transcribed from the smith, elder and co. edition by les bowler. [picture: william shakespeare] a life of william shakespeare by sidney lee. _with portraits and facsimiles_ fourth edition london smith, elder, & co., waterloo place [all rights reserved] _printed november_ (_first edition_). _reprinted december_ (_second edition_); _december_ (_third edition_); _february_ (_fourth edition_). preface this work is based on the article on shakespeare which i contributed last year to the fifty-first volume of the 'dictionary of national biography.' but the changes and additions which the article has undergone during my revision of it for separate publication are so numerous as to give the book a title to be regarded as an independent venture. in its general aims, however, the present life of shakespeare endeavours loyally to adhere to the principles that are inherent in the scheme of the 'dictionary of national biography.' i have endeavoured to set before my readers a plain and practical narrative of the great dramatist's personal history as concisely as the needs of clearness and completeness would permit. i have sought to provide students of shakespeare with a full record of the duly attested facts and dates of their master's career. i have avoided merely aesthetic criticism. my estimates of the value of shakespeare's plays and poems are intended solely to fulfil the obligation that lies on the biographer of indicating succinctly the character of the successive labours which were woven into the texture of his hero's life. aesthetic studies of shakespeare abound, and to increase their number is a work of supererogation. but shakespearean literature, as far as it is known to me, still lacks a book that shall supply within a brief compass an exhaustive and well-arranged statement of the facts of shakespeare's career, achievement, and reputation, that shall reduce conjecture to the smallest dimensions consistent with coherence, and shall give verifiable references to all the original sources of information. after studying elizabethan literature, history, and bibliography for more than eighteen years, i believed that i might, without exposing myself to a charge of presumption, attempt something in the way of filling this gap, and that i might be able to supply, at least tentatively, a guide-book to shakespeare's life and work that should be, within its limits, complete and trustworthy. how far my belief was justified the readers of this volume will decide. i cannot promise my readers any startling revelations. but my researches have enabled me to remove some ambiguities which puzzled my predecessors, and to throw light on one or two topics that have hitherto obscured the course of shakespeare's career. particulars that have not been before incorporated in shakespeare's biography will be found in my treatment of the following subjects: the conditions under which 'love's labour's lost' and the 'merchant of venice' were written; the references in shakespeare's plays to his native town and county; his father's applications to the heralds' college for coat-armour; his relations with ben jonson and the boy actors in ; the favour extended to his work by james i and his court; the circumstances which led to the publication of the first folio, and the history of the dramatist's portraits. i have somewhat expanded the notices of shakespeare's financial affairs which have already appeared in the article in the 'dictionary of national biography,' and a few new facts will be found in my revised estimate of the poet's pecuniary position. in my treatment of the sonnets i have pursued what i believe to be an original line of investigation. the strictly autobiographical interpretation that critics have of late placed on these poems compelled me, as shakespeare's biographer, to submit them to a very narrow scrutiny. my conclusion is adverse to the claim of the sonnets to rank as autobiographical documents, but i have felt bound, out of respect to writers from whose views i dissent, to give in detail the evidence on which i base my judgment. matthew arnold sagaciously laid down the maxim that 'the criticism which alone can much help us for the future is a criticism which regards europe as being, for intellectual and artistic {vii} purposes, one great confederation, bound to a joint action and working to a common result.' it is criticism inspired by this liberalising principle that is especially applicable to the vast sonnet-literature which was produced by shakespeare and his contemporaries. it is criticism of the type that arnold recommended that can alone lead to any accurate and profitable conclusion respecting the intention of the vast sonnet-literature of the elizabethan era. in accordance with arnold's suggestion, i have studied shakespeare's sonnets comparatively with those in vogue in england, france, and italy at the time he wrote. i have endeavoured to learn the view that was taken of such literary endeavours by contemporary critics and readers throughout europe. my researches have covered a very small portion of the wide field. but i have gone far enough, i think, to justify the conviction that shakespeare's collection of sonnets has no reasonable title to be regarded as a personal or autobiographical narrative. in the appendix (sections iii. and iv.) i have supplied a memoir of shakespeare's patron, the earl of southampton, and an account of the earl's relations with the contemporary world of letters. apart from southampton's association with the sonnets, he promoted shakespeare's welfare at an early stage of the dramatist's career, and i can quote the authority of malone, who appended a sketch of southampton's history to his biography of shakespeare (in the 'variorum' edition of ), for treating a knowledge of southampton's life as essential to a full knowledge of shakespeare's. i have also printed in the appendix a detailed statement of the precise circumstances under which shakespeare's sonnets were published by thomas thorpe in (section v.), and a review of the facts that seem to me to confute the popular theory that shakespeare was a friend and _protege_ of william herbert, third earl of pembroke, who has been put forward quite unwarrantably as the hero of the sonnets (sections vi., vii., viii.) {ix} i have also included in the appendix (sections ix. and x.) a survey of the voluminous sonnet-literature of the elizabethan poets between and , with which shakespeare's sonnetteering efforts were very closely allied, as well as a bibliographical note on a corresponding feature of french and italian literature between and . since the publication of the article on shakespeare in the 'dictionary of national biography,' i have received from correspondents many criticisms and suggestions which have enabled me to correct some errors. but a few of my correspondents have exhibited so ingenuous a faith in those forged documents relating to shakespeare and forged references to his works, which were promulgated chiefly by john payne collier more than half a century ago, that i have attached a list of the misleading records to my chapter on 'the sources of biographical information' in the appendix (section i.) i believe the list to be fuller than any to be met with elsewhere. the six illustrations which appear in this volume have been chosen on grounds of practical utility rather than of artistic merit. my reasons for selecting as the frontispiece the newly discovered 'droeshout' painting of shakespeare (now in the shakespeare memorial gallery at stratford-on-avon) can be gathered from the history of the painting and of its discovery which i give on pages - . i have to thank mr. edgar flower and the other members of the council of the shakespeare memorial at stratford for permission to reproduce the picture. the portrait of southampton in early life is now at welbeck abbey, and the duke of portland not only permitted the portrait to be engraved for this volume, but lent me the negative from which the plate has been prepared. the committee of the garrick club gave permission to photograph the interesting bust of shakespeare in their possession, {x} but, owing to the fact that it is moulded in black terra-cotta no satisfactory negative could be obtained; the engraving i have used is from a photograph of a white plaster cast of the original bust, now in the memorial gallery at stratford. the five autographs of shakespeare's signature--all that exist of unquestioned authenticity--appear in the three remaining plates. the three signatures on the will have been photographed from the original document at somerset house, by permission of sir francis jenne, president of the probate court; the autograph on the deed of purchase by shakespeare in of the house in blackfriars has been photographed from the original document in the guildhall library, by permission of the library committee of the city of london; and the autograph on the deed of mortgage relating to the same property, also dated in , has been photographed from the original document in the british museum, by permission of the trustees. shakespeare's coat-of-arms and motto, which are stamped on the cover of this volume, are copied from the trickings in the margin of the draft-grants of arms now in the heralds' college. the baroness burdett-coutts has kindly given me ample opportunities of examining the two peculiarly interesting and valuable copies of the first folio {xi} in her possession. mr. richard savage, of stratford-on-avon, the secretary of the birthplace trustees, and mr. w. salt brassington, the librarian of the shakespeare memorial at stratford, have courteously replied to the many inquiries that i have addressed to them verbally or by letter. mr. lionel cust, the director of the national portrait gallery, has helped me to estimate the authenticity of shakespeare's portraits. i have also benefited, while the work has been passing through the press, by the valuable suggestions of my friends the rev. h. c. beeching and mr. w. j. craig, and i have to thank mr. thomas seccombe for the zealous aid he has rendered me while correcting the final proofs. _october_ , . contents i--parentage and birth distribution of the name of shakespeare the poet's ancestry the poet's father his settlement at stratford the poet's mother , april the poet's birth and baptism alleged birthplace ii--childhood, education, and marriage the father in municipal office brothers and sisters the father's financial difficulties - shakespeare's education his classical equipment shakespeare's knowledge of the bible queen elizabeth at kenilworth withdrawal from school , dec. the poet's marriage richard hathaway of shottery anne hathaway anne hathaway's cottage the bond against impediments , may birth of the poet's daughter susanna formal betrothal probably dispensed with iii--the farewell to stratford early married life poaching at charlecote unwarranted doubts of the tradition justice shallow the flight from stratford iv--on the london stage the journey to london richard field, shakespeare townsman theatrical employment a playhouse servitor the acting companies the lord chamberlain's company shakespeare, a member of the lord chamberlain's company the london theatres place of residence in london actors' provincial tours shakespeare's alleged travels in scotland in italy shakespeare's roles his alleged scorn of an actor's calling v--early dramatic work the period of his dramatic work, - his borrowed plots the revision of plays chronology of the plays metrical tests _love's labour's lost_ _two gentlemen of verona_ _comedy of errors_ _romeo and juliet_ , _march_ _henry vi_ , _sept._ greene's attack on shakespeare chettle's apology divided authorship of _henry vi_ shakespeare's coadjutors shakespeare's assimilative power lyly's influence in comedy marlowe's influence in tragedy _richard iii_ _richard ii_ shakespeare's acknowledgments to marlowe _titus andronicus_ , august the merchant of venice shylock and roderigo lopez king john , dec. _comedy of errors_ in gray's inn hall early plays doubtfully assigned to shakespeare _arden of feversham_ ( ) _edward iii_ _mucedorus_ _faire em_ ( ) vi--the first appeal to the reading public , _april_ publication of _venus and adonis_ , _may_ publication of _lucrece_ enthusiastic reception of the poems shakespeare and spenser patrons at court vii--the sonnets and their literary history the vogue of the elizabethan sonnet shakespeare's first experiments majority of his shakespeare's composed their literary value circulation in manuscript their piratical publication in _a lover's complaint_ thomas thorpe and 'mr. w. h.' the form of shakespeare's sonnets their want of continuity the two 'groups' main topics of the first 'group' main topics of the second 'group' the order of the sonnets in the edition of lack of genuine sentiment in elizabethan sonnets their dependence on french and italian models sonnetteers' admissions of insincerity contemporary censure of sonnetteers' false sentiment shakespeare's scornful allusions to sonnets in his plays viii--the borrowed conceits of the sonnets slender autobiographical element in shakespeare's sonnets the imitative element shakespeare's claims of immortality for his sonnets a borrowed conceit conceits in sonnets addressed to a woman the praise of 'blackness' the sonnets of vituperation gabriel harvey's _amorous odious sonnet_ jodelle's _contr' amours_ ix--the patronage of the earl of southampton biographic fact in the 'dedicatory' sonnets the earl of southampton the poet's sole patron rivals in southampton's favour shakespeare's fear of another poet barnabe barnes probably the chief rival other theories as to the chief rival's identity sonnets of friendship extravagances of literary compliment patrons habitually addressed in affectionate terms direct references to southampton in the sonnets of friendship his youthfulness the evidence of portraits sonnet cvii. the last of the series allusions to queen elizabeth's death allusions to southampton's release from prison x--the supposed story of intrigue in the sonnets sonnets of melancholy and self-reproach the youth's relations with the poet's mistress _willobie his avisa_ ( ) summary of conclusions respecting the sonnets xi--the development of dramatic power - _midsummer night's dream_ _all's well that ends well_ _the taming of the shrew_ stratford allusions in the induction wincot _henry iv_ falstaff _the merry wives of windsor_ _henry v_ essex and the rebellion of shakespeare's popularity and influence shakespeare's friendship with ben jonson the mermaid meetings meres's eulogy value of his name to publishers _the passionate pilgrim_ _the phoenix and the turtle_ xii--the practical affairs of life shakespeare's practical temperament his father's difficulties his wife's debt - the coat of arms , may . the purchase of new place fellow-townsmen appear to shakespeare for aid shakespeare's financial position before shakespeare's financial position after his later income incomes of fellow actors - shakespeare's formation of his estate at stratford the stratford tithes - recovery of small debts xiii--maturity of genius literary work in _much ado about nothing_ _as you like it_ _twelfth night_ _julius caesar_ the strife between adult actors and boy actors shakespeare's references to the struggle ben jonson's _poetaster_ shakespeare's alleged partisanship in the theatrical warfare _hamlet_ the problem of its publication the first quarto, the second quarto, the folio version, popularity of _hamlet_ _troilus and cressida_ treatment of the theme , _march_ queen elizabeth's death james i's patronage xiv--the highest themes of tragedy , nov. _othello_ , dec. _measure for measure_ _macbeth_ _king lear_ _timon of athens_ _pericles_ _antony and cleopatra_ _coriolanus_ xv--the latest plays the placid temper of the latest plays _cymbeline_ _a winter's tale_ _the tempest_ fanciful interpretations of _the tempest_ unfinished plays the lost play of _cardenio_ _the two noble kinsmen_ _henry viii_ the burning of the globe theatre xvi--the close of life plays at court in actor-friends final settlement at stratford domestic affairs , _march_ purchase of a house in blackfriars , oct. attempt to enclose the stratford common fields , april rd. shakespeare's death , april th. shakespeare's burial the will shakespeare's bequest to his wife shakespeare's heiress legacies to friends the tomb in stratford church shakespeare's personal character xvii--survivors and descendants mrs. judith quiney, ( - ) mrs. susanna hall ( - ) the last descendant shakespeare's brothers, edmund, richard, and gilbert xviii--autographs, portraits, and memorials spelling of the poet's name autograph signatures shakespeare's portraits the stratford bust the 'stratford portrait' droeshout's engraving the 'droeshout' painting later portraits the chandos portrait the 'jansen' portrait the 'felton' portrait the 'soest' portrait miniatures the garrick club bust alleged death-mask memorials in sculpture memorials at stratford xix--bibliography quartos of the poems in the poet's lifetime posthumous quartos of the poems the 'poems' of quartos of the plays in the poet's lifetime posthumous quartos of the plays the first folio the publishing syndicate the prefatory matter the value of the text the order of the plays the typography unique copies the sheldon copy estimated number of extant copies reprints of the first folio the second folio - the third folio the fourth folio eighteenth-century editions nicholas rowe ( - ) alexander pope ( - ) lewis theobald ( - ) sir thomas hanmer ( - ) bishop warburton ( - ) dr. johnson ( - ) edward capell ( - ) george steevens ( - ) edmund malone ( - ) variorum editions nineteenth-century editors alexander dyce ( - ) howard staunton ( - ) nikolaus delius ( - ) the cambridge edition ( - ) other nineteenth-century editions xx--posthumous reputation views of shakespeare's contemporaries ben jonson tribute english opinion between and dryden's view restoration adaptations english opinion from onwards stratford festivals shakespeare on the english stage the first appearance of actresses in shakespearean parts david garrick ( - ) john philip kemble ( - ) mrs. sarah siddons ( - ) edmund kean ( - ) william charles macready ( - ) recent revivals shakespeare in english music and art boydell's shakespeare gallery shakespeare in america translations shakespeare in germany german translations modern german critics shakespeare on the german stage shakespeare in france voltaire's strictures french critics' gradual emancipation from voltairean influence shakespeare on the french stage shakespeare in italy in holland in russia in poland in hungary in other countries xxi--general estimates general estimate shakespeare's defects character of shakespeare's achievement its universal recognition appendix i--the sources of biographical knowledge contemporary records abundant first efforts in biography biographers of the nineteenth century stratford topography specialised studies in biography epitomes aids to study of plots and text concordances bibliographies critical studies shakespearean forgeries john jordan ( - ) the ireland forgeries ( ) list of forgeries promulgated by collier and others ( - ) ii--the bacon-shakespeare controversy its source toby matthew's letter of chief exponents of the theory its vogue in america extent of the literature absurdity of the theory iii--the youthful career of the earl of southampton shakespeare and southampton southampton's parentage , _oct._ southampton's birth his education recognition of southampton's beauty in youth his reluctance to marry intrigue with elizabeth vernon southampton's marriage - southampton's imprisonment later career , _nov._ his death iv--the earl of southampton as a literary patron southampton's collection of books references in his letters to poems and plays his love of the theatre poetic adulation barnabe barnes's sonnet tom nash's addresses gervase markham's sonnet florio's address the congratulations of the poets in elegies on southampton v--the true history of thomas thorpe and 'mr. w. h.' the publication of the 'sonnets' in the text of the dedication publishers' dedications thorpe's early life his ownership of the manuscript of marlowe's _lucan_ his dedicatory address to edward blount in character of his business shakespeare's sufferings at publishers hands the use of initials in dedications of elizabethan and jacobean books frequency of wishes for 'happiness' and 'eternity' in dedicatory greetings five dedications by thorpe 'w. h.' signs dedication of southwell's 'poems' 'w. h.' and mr. william hall the 'onlie begetter' means 'only procurer' vi--'mr. william herbert' origin of the notion that 'mr. w. h.' stands for william herbert the earl of pembroke known only as lord herbert in youth thorpe's mode of addressing the earl of pembroke vii--shakespeare and the earl of pembroke shakespeare with the acting company at wilton in the dedication of the first folio in no suggestion in the sonnets of the youth's identity with pembroke aubrey's ignorance of any relation between shakespeare and pembroke viii--the 'will' sonnets elizabethan meanings of 'will' shakespeare's uses of the word shakespeare's puns on the word arbitrary and irregular use of italics by elizabethan and jacobean printers the conceits of sonnets cxxxv.-vi. interpreted sonnet cxxxv sonnet cxxxvi sonnet cxxxiv sonnet cxliii ix--the vogue of the elizabethan sonnet, - wyatt's and surrey's sonnets published watson's _centurie of love_ sidney's _astrophel and stella_ i. collected sonnets of feigned love daniel's _delia_ fame of daniel's sonnets constable's _diana_ barnabe barne's sonnets watson's _tears of fancie_ giles fletcher's _licia_ lodge's _phillis_ drayton's _idea_ percy's _coelia_ _zepheria_ barnfield's sonnets to ganymede spenser's _amoretti_ _emaricdulfe_ sir john davies's _gullinge sonnets_ linche's diella griffin _fidessa_ thomas campion's sonnets william smith's _chloris_ robert tofte's _laura_ sir william alexander's _aurora_ sir fulke greville's _coelica_ estimate of number of love-sonnets issued between and ii. sonnets to patrons, - iii. sonnets on philosophy and religion x--bibliographical note on the sonnet in france, - ronsard ( - ) and 'la pleiade' the italian _n_. sonnetteers of the sixteenth century philippe desportes ( - ) chief collections of french sonnets published between and minor collections of french sonnets published between and index i--parentage and birth distribution of the name. shakespeare came of a family whose surname was borne through the middle ages by residents in very many parts of england--at penrith in cumberland, at kirkland and doncaster in yorkshire, as well as in nearly all the midland counties. the surname had originally a martial significance, implying capacity in the wielding of the spear. { a} its first recorded holder is john shakespeare, who in was living at 'freyndon,' perhaps frittenden, kent. { b} the great mediaeval guild of st. anne at knowle, whose members included the leading inhabitants of warwickshire, was joined by many shakespeares in the fifteenth century. { c} in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the surname is found far more frequently in warwickshire than elsewhere. the archives of no less than twenty-four towns and villages there contain notices of shakespeare families in the sixteenth century, and as many as thirty-four warwickshire towns or villages were inhabited by shakespeare families in the seventeenth century. among them all william was a common christian name. at rowington, twelve miles to the north of stratford, and in the same hundred of barlichway, one of the most prolific shakespeare families of warwickshire resided in the sixteenth century, and no less than three richard shakespeares of rowington, whose extant wills were proved respectively in , , and , were fathers of sons called william. at least one other william shakespeare was during the period a resident in rowington. as a consequence, the poet has been more than once credited with achievements which rightly belong to one or other of his numerous contemporaries who were identically named. the poet's ancestry. the poet's ancestry cannot be defined with absolute certainty. the poet's father, when applying for a grant of arms in , claimed that his grandfather (the poet's great-grandfather) received for services rendered in war a grant of land in warwickshire from henry vii. { } no precise confirmation of this pretension has been discovered, and it may be, after the manner of heraldic genealogy, fictitious. but there is a probability that the poet came of good yeoman stock, and that his ancestors to the fourth or fifth generation were fairly substantial landowners. { a} adam shakespeare, a tenant by military service of land at baddesley clinton in , seems to have been great-grandfather of one richard shakespeare who held land at wroxhall in warwickshire during the first thirty-four years (at least) of the sixteenth century. another richard shakespeare who is conjectured to have been nearly akin to the wroxhall family was settled as a farmer at snitterfield, a village four miles to the north of stratford-on-avon, in . { b} it is probable that he was the poet's grandfather. in he was renting a messuage and land at snitterfield of robert arden; he died at the close of , and on february of the next year letters of administration of his goods, chattels, and debts were issued to his son john by the probate court at worcester. his goods were valued at pounds s. { c} besides the son john, richard of snitterfield certainly had a son henry; while a thomas shakespeare, a considerable landholder at snitterfield between and , whose parentage is undetermined, may have been a third son. the son henry remained all his life at snitterfield, where he engaged in farming with gradually diminishing success; he died in embarrassed circumstances in december . john, the son who administered richard's estate, was in all likelihood the poet's father. the poet's father. about john shakespeare left snitterfield, which was his birthplace, to seek a career in the neighbouring borough of stratford-on-avon. there he soon set up as a trader in all manner of agricultural produce. corn, wool, malt, meat, skins, and leather were among the commodities in which he dealt. documents of a somewhat later date often describe him as a glover. aubrey, shakespeare's first biographer, reported the tradition that he was a butcher. but though both designations doubtless indicated important branches of his business, neither can be regarded as disclosing its full extent. the land which his family farmed at snitterfield supplied him with his varied stock-in-trade. as long as his father lived he seems to have been a frequent visitor to snitterfield, and, like his father and brothers, he was until the date of his father's death occasionally designated a farmer or 'husbandman' of that place. but it was with stratford-on-avon that his life was mainly identified. his settlement at stratford. in april he was living there in henley street, a thoroughfare leading to the market town of henley-in-arden, and he is first mentioned in the borough records as paying in that month a fine of twelve-pence for having a dirt-heap in front of his house. his frequent appearances in the years that follow as either plaintiff or defendant in suits heard in the local court of record for the recovery of small debts suggest that he was a keen man of business. in early life he prospered in trade, and in october purchased two freehold tenements at stratford--one, with a garden, in henley street (it adjoins that now known as the poet's birthplace), and the other in greenhill street with a garden and croft. thenceforth he played a prominent part in municipal affairs. in he was elected an ale-taster, whose duty it was to test the quality of malt liquors and bread. about the same time he was elected a burgess or town councillor, and in september , and again on october , , he was appointed one of the four petty constables by a vote of the jury of the court-leet. twice--in and --he was chosen one of the affeerors--officers appointed to determine the fines for those offences which were punishable arbitrarily, and for which no express penalties were prescribed by statute. in he was elected one of the two chamberlains of the borough, an office of responsibility which he held for two years. he delivered his second statement of accounts to the corporation in january . when attesting documents he occasionally made his mark, but there is evidence in the stratford archives that he could write with facility; and he was credited with financial aptitude. the municipal accounts, which were checked by tallies and counters, were audited by him after he ceased to be chamberlain, and he more than once advanced small sums of money to the corporation. the poet's mother. with characteristic shrewdness he chose a wife of assured fortune--mary, youngest daughter of robert arden, a wealthy farmer of wilmcote in the parish of aston cantlowe, near stratford. the arden family in its chief branch, which was settled at parkhall, warwickshire, ranked with the most influential of the county. robert arden, a progenitor of that branch, was sheriff of warwickshire and leicestershire in ( hen. vi), and this sheriff's direct descendant, edward arden, who was himself high sheriff of warwickshire in , was executed in for alleged complicity in a roman catholic plot against the life of queen elizabeth. { } john shakespeare's wife belonged to a humbler branch of the family, and there is no trustworthy evidence to determine the exact degree of kinship between the two branches. her grandfather, thomas arden, purchased in an estate at snitterfield, which passed, with other property, to her father robert; john shakespeare's father, richard, was one of this robert arden's snitterfield tenants. by his first wife, whose name is not known, robert arden had seven daughters, of whom all but two married; john shakespeare's wife seems to have been the youngest. robert arden's second wife, agnes or anne, widow of john hill (_d._ ), a substantial farmer of bearley, survived him; but by her he had no issue. when he died at the end of , he owned a farmhouse at wilmcote and many acres, besides some hundred acres at snitterfield, with two farmhouses which he let out to tenants. the post-mortem inventory of his goods, which was made on december , , shows that he had lived in comfort; his house was adorned by as many as eleven 'painted cloths,' which then did duty for tapestries among the middle class. the exordium of his will, which was drawn up on november , , and proved on december following, indicates that he was an observant catholic. for his two youngest daughters, alice and mary, he showed especial affection by nominating them his executors. mary received not only pounds s. d. in money, but the fee-simple of asbies, his chief property at wilmcote, consisting of a house with some fifty acres of land. she also acquired, under an earlier settlement, an interest in two messuages at snitterfield. { } but, although she was well provided with worldly goods, she was apparently without education; several extant documents bear her mark, and there is no proof that she could sign her name. the poet's birth and baptism. john shakespeare's marriage with mary arden doubtless took place at aston cantlowe, the parish church of wilmcote, in the autumn of (the church registers begin at a later date). on september , , his first child, a daughter, joan, was baptised in the church of stratford. a second child, another daughter, margaret, was baptised on december , ; but both these children died in infancy. the poet william, the first son and third child, was born on april or , . the latter date is generally accepted as his birthday, mainly (it would appear) on the ground that it was the day of his death. there is no positive evidence on the subject, but the stratford parish registers attest that he was baptised on april . alleged birthplace. some doubt is justifiable as to the ordinarily accepted scene of his birth. of two adjoining houses forming a detached building on the north side of henley street, that to the east was purchased by john shakespeare in , but there is no evidence that he owned or occupied the house to the west before . yet this western house has been known since as the poet's birthplace, and a room on the first floor is claimed as that in which he was born. { } the two houses subsequently came by bequest of the poet's granddaughter to the family of the poet's sister, joan hart, and while the eastern tenement was let out to strangers for more than two centuries, and by them converted into an inn, the 'birthplace' was until occupied by the harts, who latterly carried on there the trade of butcher. the fact of its long occupancy by the poet's collateral descendants accounts for the identification of the western rather than the eastern tenement with his birthplace. both houses were purchased in behalf of subscribers to a public fund on september , , and, after extensive restoration, were converted into a single domicile for the purposes of a public museum. they were presented under a deed of trust to the corporation of stratford in . much of the elizabethan timber and stonework survives, but a cellar under the 'birthplace' is the only portion which remains as it was at the date of the poet's birth. { } ii--childhood, education, and marriage the father in municipal office. in july , when william was three months old, the plague raged with unwonted vehemence at stratford, and his father liberally contributed to the relief of its poverty-stricken victims. fortune still favoured him. on july , , he reached the dignity of an alderman. from onwards he was accorded in the corporation archives the honourable prefix of 'mr.' at michaelmas he attained the highest office in the corporation gift, that of bailiff, and during his year of office the corporation for the first time entertained actors at stratford. the queen's company and the earl of worcester's company each received from john shakespeare an official welcome. { } on september , , he was chief alderman, a post which he retained till september the following year. in alexander webbe, the husband of his wife's sister agnes, made him overseer of his will; in he bought two houses in stratford, one of them doubtless the alleged birthplace in henley street; in he contributed twelvepence to the beadle's salary. but after michaelmas he took a less active part in municipal affairs; he grew irregular in his attendance at the council meetings, and signs were soon apparent that his luck had turned. in he was unable to pay, with his colleagues, either the sum of fourpence for the relief of the poor or his contribution 'towards the furniture of three pikemen, two bellmen, and one archer' who were sent by the corporation to attend a muster of the trained bands of the county. brothers and sisters. meanwhile his family was increasing. four children besides the poet--three sons, gilbert (baptised october , ), richard (baptised march , ), and edmund (baptised may , ), with a daughter joan (baptised april , )--reached maturity. a daughter ann was baptised september , , and was buried on april , . to meet his growing liabilities, the father borrowed money from his wife's kinsfolk, and he and his wife mortgaged, on november , , asbies, her valuable property at wilmcote, for pounds to edmund lambert of barton-on-the-heath, who had married her sister, joan arden. lambert was to receive no interest on his loan, but was to take the 'rents and profits' of the estate. asbies was thereby alienated for ever. next year, on october , , john and his wife made over to robert webbe, doubtless a relative of alexander webbe, for the sum apparently of pounds, his wife's property at snitterfield. { a} the father's financial difficulties. john shakespeare obviously chafed under the humiliation of having parted, although as he hoped only temporarily, with his wife's property of asbies, and in the autumn of he offered to pay off the mortgage; but his brother-in-law, lambert, retorted that other sums were owing, and he would accept all or none. the negotiation, which was the beginning of much litigation, thus proved abortive. through and a creditor, john brown, was embarrassingly importunate, and, after obtaining a writ of distraint, brown informed the local court that the debtor had no goods on which distraint could be levied. { b} on september , , john was deprived of his alderman's gown, on the ground of his long absence from the council meetings. { c} education. happily john shakespeare was at no expense for the education of his four sons. they were entitled to free tuition at the grammar school of stratford, which was reconstituted on a mediaeval foundation by edward vi. the eldest son, william, probably entered the school in , when walter roche was master, and perhaps he knew something of thomas hunt, who succeeded roche in . the instruction that he received was mainly confined to the latin language and literature. from the latin accidence, boys of the period, at schools of the type of that at stratford, were led, through conversation books like the 'sententiae pueriles' and lily's grammar, to the perusal of such authors as seneca terence, cicero, virgil, plautus, ovid, and horace. the eclogues of the popular renaissance poet, mantuanus, were often preferred to virgil's for beginners. the rudiments of greek were occasionally taught in elizabethan grammar schools to very promising pupils; but such coincidences as have been detected between expressions in greek plays and in shakespeare seem due to accident, and not to any study, either at school or elsewhere, of the athenian drama. { } dr. farmer enunciated in his 'essay on shakespeare's learning' ( ) the theory that shakespeare knew no language but his own, and owed whatever knowledge he displayed of the classics and of italian and french literature to english translations. but several of the books in french and italian whence shakespeare derived the plots of his dramas--belleforest's 'histoires tragiques,' ser giovanni's 'il pecorone,' and cinthio's 'hecatommithi,' for example--were not accessible to him in english translations; and on more general grounds the theory of his ignorance is adequately confuted. a boy with shakespeare's exceptional alertness of intellect, during whose schooldays a training in latin classics lay within reach, could hardly lack in future years all means of access to the literature of france and italy. the poet's classical equipment. with the latin and french languages, indeed, and with many latin poets of the school curriculum, shakespeare in his writings openly acknowledged his acquaintance. in 'henry v' the dialogue in many scenes is carried on in french, which is grammatically accurate if not idiomatic. in the mouth of his schoolmasters, holofernes in 'love's labour's lost' and sir hugh evans in 'merry wives of windsor,' shakespeare placed latin phrases drawn directly from lily's grammar, from the 'sententiae pueriles,' and from 'the good old mantuan.' the influence of ovid, especially the 'metamorphoses,' was apparent throughout his earliest literary work, both poetic and dramatic, and is discernible in the 'tempest,' his latest play (v. i. seq.) in the bodleian library there is a copy of the aldine edition of ovid's 'metamorphoses' ( ), and on the title is the signature wm. she., which experts have declared--not quite conclusively--to be a genuine autograph of the poet. { } ovid's latin text was certainly not unfamiliar to him, but his closest adaptations of ovid's 'metamorphoses' often reflect the phraseology of the popular english version by arthur golding, of which some seven editions were issued between and . from plautus shakespeare drew the plot of the 'comedy of errors,' but it is just possible that plautus's comedies, too, were accessible in english. shakespeare had no title to rank as a classical scholar, and he did not disdain a liberal use of translations. his lack of exact scholarship fully accounts for the 'small latin and less greek' with which he was credited by his scholarly friend, ben jonson. but aubrey's report that 'he understood latin pretty well' need not be contested, and his knowledge of french may be estimated to have equalled his knowledge of latin, while he doubtless possessed just sufficient acquaintance with italian to enable him to discern the drift of an italian poem or novel. { } shakespeare and the bible. of the few english books accessible to him in his schooldays, the chief was the english bible, either in the popular genevan version, first issued in a complete form in , or in the bishops' revision of , which the authorised version of closely followed. references to scriptural characters and incidents are not conspicuous in shakespeare's plays, but, such as they are, they are drawn from all parts of the bible, and indicate that general acquaintance with the narrative of both old and new testaments which a clever boy would be certain to acquire either in the schoolroom or at church on sundays. shakespeare quotes or adapts biblical phrases with far greater frequency than he makes allusion to episodes in biblical history. but many such phrases enjoyed proverbial currency, and others, which were more recondite, were borrowed from holinshed's 'chronicles' and secular works whence he drew his plots. as a rule his use of scriptural phraseology, as of scriptural history, suggests youthful reminiscence and the assimilative tendency of the mind in a stage of early development rather than close and continuous study of the bible in adult life. { a} withdrawal from school. shakespeare was a schoolboy in july , when queen elizabeth made a progress through warwickshire on a visit to her favourite, the earl of leicester, at his castle of kenilworth. references have been detected in oberon's vision in shakespeare's 'midsummer night's dream' (ii. ii. - ) to the fantastic pageants and masques with which the queen during her stay was entertained in kenilworth park. leicester's residence was only fifteen miles from stratford, and it is possible that shakespeare went thither with his father to witness some of the open-air festivities; but two full descriptions which were published in , in pamphlet form, gave shakespeare knowledge of all that took place. { b} shakespeare's opportunities of recreation outside stratford were in any case restricted during his schooldays. his father's financial difficulties grew steadily, and they caused his removal from school at an unusually early age. probably in , when he was thirteen, he was enlisted by his father in an effort to restore his decaying fortunes. 'i have been told heretofore,' wrote aubrey, 'by some of the neighbours that when he was a boy he exercised his father's trade,' which, according to the writer, was that of a butcher. it is possible that john's ill-luck at the period compelled him to confine himself to this occupation, which in happier days formed only one branch of his business. his son may have been formally apprenticed to him. an early stratford tradition describes him as 'a butcher's apprentice.' { } 'when he kill'd a calf,' aubrey proceeds less convincingly, 'he would doe it in a high style and make a speech. there was at that time another butcher's son in this towne, that was held not at all inferior to him for a naturall witt, his acquaintance, and coetanean, but dyed young.' the poet's marriage. at the end of shakespeare, when little more than eighteen and a half years old, took a step which was little calculated to lighten his father's anxieties. he married. his wife, according to the inscription on her tombstone, was his senior by eight years. rowe states that she 'was the daughter of one hathaway, said to have been a substantial yeoman in the neighbourhood of stratford.' richard hathaway of shottery. anne hathaway. on september , , richard hathaway, 'husbandman' of shottery, a hamlet in the parish of old stratford, made his will, which was proved on july , , and is now preserved at somerset house. his house and land, 'two and a half virgates,' had been long held in copyhold by his family, and he died in fairly prosperous circumstances. his wife joan, the chief legatee, was directed to carry on the farm with the aid of her eldest son, bartholomew, to whom a share in its proceeds was assigned. six other children--three sons and three daughters--received sums of money; agnes, the eldest daughter, and catherine, the second daughter, were each allotted pounds s. d, 'to be paid at the day of her marriage,' a phrase common in wills of the period. anne and agnes were in the sixteenth century alternative spellings of the same christian name; and there is little doubt that the daughter 'agnes' of richard hathaway's will became, within a few months of richard hathaway's death, shakespeare's wife. anne hathaway's cottage. the house at shottery, now known as anne hathaway's cottage, and reached from stratford by field-paths, undoubtedly once formed part of richard hathaway's farmhouse, and, despite numerous alterations and renovations, still preserves many features of a thatched farmhouse of the elizabethan period. the house remained in the hathaway family till , although the male line became extinct in . it was purchased in behalf of the public by the birthplace trustees in . the bond against impediments. no record of the solemnisation of shakespeare's marriage survives. although the parish of stratford included shottery, and thus both bride and bridegroom were parishioners, the stratford parish register is silent on the subject. a local tradition, which seems to have come into being during the present century, assigns the ceremony to the neighbouring hamlet or chapelry of luddington, of which neither the chapel nor parish registers now exist. but one important piece of documentary evidence directly bearing on the poet's matrimonial venture is accessible. in the registry of the bishop of the diocese (worcester) a deed is extant wherein fulk sandells and john richardson, 'husbandmen of stratford,' bound themselves in the bishop's consistory court, on november , , in a surety of pounds, to free the bishop of all liability should a lawful impediment--'by reason of any precontract' [_i.e._ with a third party] or consanguinity--be subsequently disclosed to imperil the validity of the marriage, then in contemplation, of william shakespeare with anne hathaway. on the assumption that no such impediment was known to exist, and provided that anne obtained the consent of her 'friends,' the marriage might proceed 'with once asking of the bannes of matrimony betwene them.' bonds of similar purport, although differing in significant details, are extant in all diocesan registries of the sixteenth century. they were obtainable on the payment of a fee to the bishop's commissary, and had the effect of expediting the marriage ceremony while protecting the clergy from the consequences of any possible breach of canonical law. but they were not common, and it was rare for persons in the comparatively humble position in life of anne hathaway and young shakespeare to adopt such cumbrous formalities when there was always available the simpler, less expensive, and more leisurely method of marriage by 'thrice asking of the banns.' moreover, the wording of the bond which was drawn before shakespeare's marriage differs in important respects from that adopted in all other known examples. { } in the latter it is invariably provided that the marriage shall not take place without the consent of the parents or governors of both bride and bridegroom. in the case of the marriage of an 'infant' bridegroom the formal consent of his parents was absolutely essential to strictly regular procedure, although clergymen might be found who were ready to shut their eyes to the facts of the situation and to run the risk of solemnising the marriage of an 'infant' without inquiry as to the parents' consent. the clergyman who united shakespeare in wedlock to anne hathaway was obviously of this easy temper. despite the circumstance that shakespeare's bride was of full age and he himself was by nearly three years a minor, the shakespeare bond stipulated merely for the consent of the bride's 'friends,' and ignored the bridegroom's parents altogether. nor was this the only irregularity in the document. in other pre-matrimonial covenants of the kind the name either of the bridegroom himself or of the bridegroom's father figures as one of the two sureties, and is mentioned first of the two. had the usual form been followed, shakespeare's father would have been the chief party to the transaction in behalf of his 'infant' son. but in the shakespeare bond the sole sureties, sandells and richardson, were farmers of shottery, the bride's native place. sandells was a 'supervisor' of the will of the bride's father, who there describes him as 'my trustie friende and neighbour.' birth of a daughter. the prominence of the shottery husbandmen in the negotiations preceding shakespeare's marriage suggests the true position of affairs. sandells and richardson, representing the lady's family, doubtless secured the deed on their own initiative, so that shakespeare might have small opportunity of evading a step which his intimacy with their friend's daughter had rendered essential to her reputation. the wedding probably took place, without the consent of the bridegroom's parents--it may be without their knowledge--soon after the signing of the deed. within six months--in may --a daughter was born to the poet, and was baptised in the name of susanna at stratford parish church on the th. formal betrothal probably dispensed with. shakespeare's apologists have endeavoured to show that the public betrothal or formal 'troth-plight' which was at the time a common prelude to a wedding carried with it all the privileges of marriage. but neither shakespeare's detailed description of a betrothal { } nor of the solemn verbal contract that ordinarily preceded marriage lends the contention much support. moreover, the whole circumstances of the case render it highly improbable that shakespeare and his bride submitted to the formal preliminaries of a betrothal. in that ceremony the parents of both contracting parties invariably played foremost parts, but the wording of the bond precludes the assumption that the bridegroom's parents were actors in any scene of the hurriedly planned drama of his marriage. a difficulty has been imported into the narration of the poet's matrimonial affairs by the assumption of his identity with one 'william shakespeare,' to whom, according to an entry in the bishop of worcester's register, a license was issued on november , (the day _before_ the signing of the hathaway bond), authorising his marriage with anne whateley of temple grafton. the theory that the maiden name of shakespeare's wife was whateley is quite untenable, and it is unsafe to assume that the bishop's clerk, when making a note of the grant of the license in his register, erred so extensively as to write anne whateley of temple grafton' for 'anne hathaway of shottery.' the husband of anne whateley cannot reasonably be identified with the poet. he was doubtless another of the numerous william shakespeares who abounded in the diocese of worcester. had a license for the poet's marriage been secured on november , { } it is unlikely that the shottery husbandmen would have entered next day into a bond 'against impediments,' the execution of which might well have been demanded as a preliminary to the grant of a license but was wholly supererogatory after the grant was made. iii--the farewell to stratford anne hathaway's greater burden of years and the likelihood that the poet was forced into marrying her by her friends were not circumstances of happy augury. although it is dangerous to read into shakespeare's dramatic utterances allusions to his personal experience, the emphasis with which he insists that a woman should take in marriage 'an elder than herself,' { a} and that prenuptial intimacy is productive of 'barren hate, sour-eyed disdain, and discord,' suggest a personal interpretation. { b} to both these unpromising features was added, in the poet's case, the absence of a means of livelihood, and his course of life in the years that immediately followed implies that he bore his domestic ties with impatience. early in twins were born to him, a son (hamnet) and a daughter (judith); both were baptised on february . all the evidence points to the conclusion, which the fact that he had no more children confirms, that in the later months of the year ( ) he left stratford, and that, although he was never wholly estranged from his family, he saw little of wife or children for eleven years. between the winter of and the autumn of --an interval which synchronises with his first literary triumphs--there is only one shadowy mention of his name in stratford records. in april there died edmund lambert, who held asbies under the mortgage of , and a few months later shakespeare's name, as owner of a contingent interest, was joined to that of his father and mother in a formal assent given to an abortive proposal to confer on edmund's son and heir, john lambert, an absolute title to the estate on condition of his cancelling the mortgage and paying pounds. but the deed does not indicate that shakespeare personally assisted at the transaction. { } poaching at charlecote. shakespeare's early literary work proves that while in the country he eagerly studied birds, flowers, and trees, and gained a detailed knowledge of horses and dogs. all his kinsfolk were farmers, and with them he doubtless as a youth practised many field sports. sympathetic references to hawking, hunting, coursing, and angling abound in his early plays and poems. { } and his sporting experiences passed at times beyond orthodox limits. a poaching adventure, according to a credible tradition, was the immediate cause of his long severance from his native place. 'he had,' wrote rowe in , 'by a misfortune common enough to young fellows, fallen into ill company, and, among them, some, that made a frequent practice of deer-stealing, engaged him with them more than once in robbing a park that belonged to sir thomas lucy of charlecote near stratford. for this he was prosecuted by that gentleman, as he thought, somewhat too severely; and, in order to revenge that ill-usage, he made a ballad upon him, and though 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 degree that he was obliged to leave his business and family in warwickshire and shelter himself in london.' the independent testimony of archdeacon davies, who was vicar of saperton, gloucestershire, late in the seventeenth century, is to the effect that shakespeare 'was much given to all unluckiness in stealing venison and rabbits, particularly from sir thomas lucy, who had him oft whipt, and sometimes imprisoned, and at last made him fly his native county to his great advancement.' the law of shakespeare's day ( eliz. cap. ) punished deer-stealers with three months' imprisonment and the payment of thrice the amount of the damage done. unwarranted doubts of the tradition. the tradition has been challenged on the ground that the charlecote deer-park was of later date than the sixteenth century. but sir thomas lucy was an extensive game-preserver, and owned at charlecote a warren in which a few harts or does doubtless found an occasional home. samuel ireland was informed in that shakespeare stole the deer, not from charlecote, but from fulbroke park, a few miles off, and ireland supplied in his 'views on the warwickshire avon,' , an engraving of an old farmhouse in the hamlet of fulbroke, where he asserted that shakespeare was temporarily imprisoned after his arrest. an adjoining hovel was locally known for some years as shakespeare's 'deer-barn,' but no portion of fulbroke park, which included the site of these buildings (now removed), was lucy's property in elizabeth's reign, and the amended legend, which was solemnly confided to sir walter scott in by the owner of charlecote, seems pure invention. { } justice shallow the ballad which shakespeare is reported to have fastened on the park gates of charlecote does not, as rowe acknowledged, survive. no authenticity can be allowed the worthless lines beginning 'a parliament member, a justice of peace,' which were represented to be shakespeare's on the authority of an old man who lived near stratford and died in . but such an incident as the tradition reveals has left a distinct impress on shakespearean drama. justice shallow is beyond doubt a reminiscence of the owner of charlecote. according to archdeacon davies of saperton, shakespeare's 'revenge was so great that' he caricatured lucy as 'justice clodpate,' who was (davies adds) represented on the stage as 'a great man,' and as bearing, in allusion to lucy's name, 'three louses rampant for his arms.' justice shallow, davies's 'justice clodpate,' came to birth in the 'second part of henry iv' ( ), and he is represented in the opening scene of the 'merry wives of windsor' as having come from gloucestershire to windsor to make a star-chamber matter of a poaching raid on his estate. the 'three luces hauriant argent' were the arms borne by the charlecote lucys, and the dramatist's prolonged reference in this scene to the 'dozen white luces' on justice shallow's 'old coat' fully establishes shallow's identity with lucy. the flight from stratford. the poaching episode is best assigned to , but it may be questioned whether shakespeare, on fleeing from lucy's persecution, at once sought an asylum in london. william beeston, a seventeenth-century actor, remembered hearing that he had been for a time a country schoolmaster 'in his younger years,' and it seems possible that on first leaving stratford he found some such employment in a neighbouring village. the suggestion that he joined, at the end of , a band of youths of the district in serving in the low countries under the earl of leicester, whose castle of kenilworth was within easy reach of stratford, is based on an obvious confusion between him and others of his name. { } the knowledge of a soldier's life which shakespeare exhibited in his plays is no greater and no less than that which he displayed of almost all other spheres of human activity, and to assume that he wrote of all or of any from practical experience, unless the evidence be conclusive, is to underrate his intuitive power of realising life under almost every aspect by force of his imagination. iv--on the london stage the journey to london. to london shakespeare naturally drifted, doubtless trudging thither on foot during , by way of oxford and high wycombe. { a} tradition points to that as shakespeare's favoured route, rather than to the road by banbury and aylesbury. aubrey asserts that at grendon near oxford, 'he happened to take the humour of the constable in "midsummer night's dream"'--by which he meant, we may suppose, 'much ado about nothing'--but there were watchmen of the dogberry type all over england, and probably at stratford itself. the crown inn, (formerly cornmarket street) near carfax, at oxford, was long pointed out as one of his resting-places. richard field, his townsman. to only one resident in london is shakespeare likely to have been known previously. { b} richard field, a native of stratford, and son of a friend of shakespeare's father, had left stratford in to serve an apprenticeship with thomas vautrollier, the london printer. shakespeare and field, who was made free of the stationers' company in , were soon associated as author and publisher; but the theory that field found work for shakespeare in vautrollier's printing-office is fanciful. { a} no more can be said for the attempt to prove that he obtained employment as a lawyer's clerk. in view of his general quickness of apprehension, shakespeare's accurate use of legal terms, which deserves all the attention that has been paid it, may be attributable in part to his observation of the many legal processes in which his father was involved, and in part to early intercourse with members of the inns of court. { b} theatrical employment. tradition and common-sense alike point to one of the only two theatres (the theatre or the curtain) that existed in london at the date of his arrival as an early scene of his regular occupation. the compiler of 'lives of the poets' ( ) { c} was the first to relate the story that his original connection with the playhouse was as holder of the horses of visitors outside the doors. according to the same compiler, the story was related by d'avenant to betterton; but rowe, to whom betterton communicated it, made no use of it. the two regular theatres of the time were both reached on horseback by men of fashion, and the owner of the theatre, james burbage, kept a livery stable at smithfield. there is no inherent improbability in the tale. dr. johnson's amplified version, in which shakespeare was represented as organising a service of boys for the purpose of tending visitors' horses, sounds apocryphal. a playhouse servitor. there is every indication that shakespeare was speedily offered employment inside the playhouse. in the two chief companies of actors, claiming respectively the nominal patronage of the queen and lord leicester, returned to london from a provincial tour, during which they visited stratford. two subordinate companies, one of which claimed the patronage of the earl of essex and the other that of lord stafford, also performed in the town during the same year. shakespeare's friends may have called the attention of the strolling players to the homeless youth, rumours of whose search for employment about the london theatres had doubtless reached stratford. from such incidents seems to have sprung the opportunity which offered shakespeare fame and fortune. according to rowe's vague statement, 'he was received into the company then in being at first in a very mean rank.' william castle, the parish clerk of stratford at the end of the seventeenth century, was in the habit of telling visitors that he entered the playhouse as a servitor. malone recorded in a stage tradition 'that his first office in the theatre was that of prompter's attendant' or call-boy. his intellectual capacity and the amiability with which he turned to account his versatile powers were probably soon recognised, and thenceforth his promotion was assured. the acting companies. shakespeare's earliest reputation was made as an actor, and, although his work as a dramatist soon eclipsed his histrionic fame, he remained a prominent member of the actor's profession till near the end of his life. by an act of parliament of ( eliz. cap. ), which was re-enacted in ( eliz. cap. ), players were under the necessity of procuring a license to pursue their calling from a peer of the realm or 'personage of higher degree;' otherwise they were adjudged to be of the status of rogues and vagabonds. the queen herself and many elizabethan peers were liberal in the exercise of their licensing powers, and few actors failed to secure a statutory license, which gave them a rank of respectability, and relieved them of all risk of identification with vagrants or 'sturdy beggars.' from an early period in elizabeth's reign licensed actors were organised into permanent companies. in and following years, besides three companies of duly licensed boy-actors that were formed from the choristers of st. paul's cathedral and the chapel royal and from westminster scholars, there were in london at least six companies of fully licensed adult actors; five of these were called after the noblemen to whom their members respectively owed their licenses (viz. the earls of leicester, oxford, sussex, and worcester, and the lord admiral, charles, lord howard of effingham), and one of them whose actors derived their license from the queen was called the queen's company. the lord chamberlain's company. the patron's functions in relation to the companies seem to have been mainly confined to the grant or renewal of the actors' licenses. constant alterations of name, owing to the death or change from other causes of the patrons, render it difficult to trace with certainty each company's history. but there seems no doubt that the most influential of the companies named--that under the nominal patronage of the earl of leicester--passed on his death in september to the patronage of ferdinando stanley, lord strange, who became earl of derby on september , . when the earl of derby died on april , , his place as patron and licenser was successively filled by henry carey, first lord hunsdon, lord chamberlain (_d._ july , ), and by his son and heir, george carey, second lord hunsdon, who himself became lord chamberlain in march . after king james's succession in may the company was promoted to be the king's players, and, thus advanced in dignity, it fully maintained the supremacy which, under its successive titles, it had already long enjoyed. a member of the lord chamberlain's. it is fair to infer that this was the company that shakespeare originally joined and adhered to through life. documentary evidence proves that he was a member of it in december ; in may, he was one of its leaders. four of its chief members--richard burbage, the greatest tragic actor of the day, john heming, henry condell, and augustine phillips were among shakespeare's lifelong friends. under this company's auspices, moreover, shakespeare's plays first saw the light. only two of the plays claimed for him--'titus andronicus' and ' henry vi'--seem to have been performed by other companies (the earl of sussex's men in the one case, and the earl of pembroke's in the other). the london theatres. when shakespeare became a member of the company it was doubtless performing at the theatre, the playhouse in shoreditch which james burbage, the father of the great actor, richard burbage, had constructed in ; it abutted on the finsbury fields, and stood outside the city's boundaries. the only other london playhouse then in existence--the curtain in moorfields--was near at hand; its name survives in curtain road, shoreditch. but at an early date in his acting career shakespeare's company sought and found new quarters. while known as lord strange's men, they opened on february , , a third london theatre, called the rose, which philip henslowe, the speculative theatrical manager, had erected on the bankside, southwark. at the date of the inauguration of the rose theatre shakespeare's company was temporarily allied with another company, the admiral's men, who numbered the great actor edward alleyn among them. alleyn for a few months undertook the direction of the amalgamated companies, but they quickly parted, and no further opportunity was offered shakespeare of enjoying professional relations with alleyn. the rose theatre was doubtless the earliest scene of shakespeare's pronounced successes alike as actor and dramatist. subsequently for a short time in he frequented the stage of another new theatre at newington butts, and between and the older stages of the curtain and of the theatre in shoreditch. the curtain remained open till the civil wars, although its vogue after was eclipsed by that of younger rivals. in richard burbage and his brother cuthbert demolished the old building of the theatre and built, mainly out of the materials of the dismantled fabric, the famous theatre called the globe on the bankside. it was octagonal in shape, and built of wood, and doubtless shakespeare described it (rather than the curtain) as 'this wooden o' in the opening chorus of 'henry v' ( . ). after the globe was mainly occupied by shakespeare's company, and in its profits he acquired an important share. from the date of its inauguration until the poet's retirement, the globe--which quickly won the first place among london theatres--seems to have been the sole playhouse with which shakespeare was professionally associated. the equally familiar blackfriars theatre, which was created out of a dwelling-house by james burbage, the actor's father, at the end of , was for many years afterwards leased out to the company of boy-actors known as 'the queen's children of the chapel;' it was not occupied by shakespeare's company until december or january , when his acting days were nearing their end. { a} place of residence in london. in london shakespeare resided near the theatres. according to a memorandum by alleyn (which malone quoted), he lodged in near 'the bear garden in southwark.' in one william shakespeare, who was assessed by the collectors of a subsidy in the sum of s. d. upon goods valued at pounds, was a resident in st. helen's parish, bishopsgate, but it is not certain that this taxpayer was the dramatist. { b} shakespeare's alleged travels. in scotland. the chief differences between the methods of theatrical representation in shakespeare's day and our own lay in the fact that neither scenery nor scenic costume nor women-actors were known to the elizabethan stage. all female _roles_ were, until the restoration in , assumed in the public theatres by men or boys. { c} consequently the skill needed to rouse in the audience the requisite illusions was far greater then than at later periods. but the professional customs of elizabethan actors approximated in other respects more closely to those of their modern successors than is usually recognised. the practice of touring in the provinces was followed with even greater regularity then than now. few companies remained in london during the summer or early autumn, and every country town with two thousand or more inhabitants could reckon on at least one visit from travelling actors between may and october. a rapid examination of the extant archives of some seventy municipalities selected at random shows that shakespeare's company between and frequently performed in such towns as barnstaple, bath, bristol, coventry, dover, faversham, folkestone, hythe, leicester, maidstone, marlborough, new romney, oxford, rye in sussex, saffron walden, and shrewsbury. { a} shakespeare may be credited with faithfully fulfilling all his professional functions, and some of the references to travel in his sonnets were doubtless reminiscences of early acting tours. it has been repeatedly urged, moreover, that shakespeare's company visited scotland, and that he went with it. { b} in november english actors arrived in scotland under the leadership of lawrence fletcher and one martin, and were welcomed with enthusiasm by the king. { a} fletcher was a colleague of shakespeare in , but is not known to have been one earlier. shakespeare's company never included an actor named martin. fletcher repeated the visit in october . { b} there is nothing to indicate that any of his companions belonged to shakespeare's company. in like manner, shakespeare's accurate reference in 'macbeth' to the 'nimble' but 'sweet' climate of inverness, { c} and the vivid impression he conveys of the aspects of wild highland heaths, have been judged to be the certain fruits of a personal experience; but the passages in question, into which a more definite significance has possibly been read than shakespeare intended, can be satisfactorily accounted for by his inevitable intercourse with scotsmen in london and the theatres after james i's accession. in italy. a few english actors in shakespeare's day occasionally combined to make professional tours through foreign lands, where court society invariably gave them a hospitable reception. in denmark, germany, austria, holland, and france, many dramatic performances were given before royal audiences by english actors between and . { a} that shakespeare joined any of these expeditions is highly improbable. actors of small account at home mainly took part in them, and shakespeare's name appears in no extant list of those who paid professional visits abroad. it is, in fact, unlikely that shakespeare ever set foot on the continent of europe in either a private or professional capacity. he repeatedly ridicules the craze for foreign travel. { b} to italy, it is true, and especially to cities of northern italy, like venice, padua, verona, mantua, and milan, he makes frequent and familiar reference, and he supplied many a realistic portrayal of italian life and sentiment. but the fact that he represents valentine in the 'two gentlemen of verona' (i. i. ) as travelling from verona to milan by sea, and prospero in 'the tempest' as embarking on a ship at the gates of milan (i. ii. - ), renders it almost impossible that he could have gathered his knowledge of northern italy from personal observation. { a} he doubtless owed all to the verbal reports of travelled friends or to books, the contents of which he had a rare power of assimilating and vitalising. shakespeare's roles. the publisher chettle wrote in that shakespeare was 'exelent in the qualitie { b} he professes,' and the old actor william beeston asserted in the next century that shakespeare 'did act exceedingly well.' { c} but the _roles_ in which he distinguished himself are imperfectly recorded. few surviving documents refer directly to performances by him. at christmas he joined the popular actors william kemp, the chief comedian of the day, and richard burbage, the greatest tragic actor, in 'two several comedies or interludes' which were acted on st. stephen's day and on innocents' day (december and ) at greenwich palace before the queen. the players received 'xiii_li_. vj_s_. viii_d_. and by waye of her majesties rewarde vi_li_. xiii_s_. iiij_d_., in all xx_li_. { a} neither plays nor parts are named. shakespeare's name stands first on the list of those who took part in the original performances of ben jonson's 'every man in his humour' ( ). in the original edition of jonson's 'sejanus' ( ) the actors' names are arranged in two columns, and shakespeare's name heads the second column, standing parallel with burbage's, which heads the first. but here again the character allotted to each actor is not stated. rowe identified only one of shakespeare's parts, 'the ghost in his own "hamlet,"' and rowe asserted his assumption of that character to be 'the top of his performance.' john davies of hereford noted that he 'played some kingly parts in sport.' { b} one of shakespeare's younger brothers, presumably gilbert, often came, wrote oldys, to london in his younger days to see his brother act in his own plays; and in his old age, when his memory was failing, he recalled his brother's performance of adam in 'as you like it.' in the folio edition of shakespeare's 'works' his name heads the prefatory list 'of the principall actors in all these playes.' alleged scorn of an actor's calling. that shakespeare chafed under some of the conditions of the actor's calling is commonly inferred from the 'sonnets.' there he reproaches himself with becoming 'a motley to the view' (cx. ), and chides fortune for having provided for his livelihood nothing better than 'public means that public manners breed,' whence his name received a brand (cxi. - ). if such self-pity is to be literally interpreted, it only reflected an evanescent mood. his interest in all that touched the efficiency of his profession was permanently active. he was a keen critic of actors' elocution, and in 'hamlet' shrewdly denounced their common failings, but clearly and hopefully pointed out the road to improvement. his highest ambitions lay, it is true, elsewhere than in acting, and at an early period of his theatrical career he undertook, with triumphant success, the labours of a playwright. but he pursued the profession of an actor loyally and uninterruptedly until he resigned all connection with the theatre within a few years of his death. v.--early dramatic efforts dramatic work. the whole of shakespeare's dramatic work was probably begun and ended within two decades ( - ), between his twenty-seventh and forty-seventh year. if the works traditionally assigned to him include some contributions from other pens, he was perhaps responsible, on the other hand, for portions of a few plays that are traditionally claimed for others. when the account is balanced, shakespeare must be credited with the production, during these twenty years, of a yearly average of two plays, nearly all of which belong to the supreme rank of literature. three volumes of poems must be added to the total. ben jonson was often told by the players that 'whatsoever he penned he never blotted out (_i.e._ erased) a line.' the editors of the first folio attested that 'what he thought he uttered with that easinesse that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers.' signs of hasty workmanship are not lacking, but they are few when it is considered how rapidly his numerous compositions came from his pen, and they are in the aggregate unimportant. his borrowed plots. by borrowing his plots he to some extent economised his energy, but he transformed most of them, and it was not probably with the object of conserving his strength that he systematically levied loans on popular current literature like holinshed's 'chronicles,' north's translation of 'plutarch,' widely read romances, and successful plays. in this regard he betrayed something of the practical temperament which is traceable in the conduct of the affairs of his later life. it was doubtless with the calculated aim of ministering to the public taste that he unceasingly adapted, as his genius dictated, themes which had already, in the hands of inferior writers or dramatists, proved capable of arresting public attention. the revision of plays. the professional playwrights sold their plays outright to one or other of the acting companies, and they retained no legal interest in them after the manuscript had passed into the hands of the theatrical manager. { } it was not unusual for the manager to invite extensive revision of a play at the hands of others than its author before it was produced on the stage, and again whenever it was revived. shakespeare gained his earliest experience as a dramatist by revising or rewriting behind the scenes plays that had become the property of his manager. it is possible that some of his labours in this direction remain unidentified. in a few cases his alterations were slight, but as a rule his fund of originality was too abundant to restrict him, when working as an adapter, to mere recension, and the results of most of his labours in that capacity are entitled to rank among original compositions. chronology of the plays. metrical tests. the determination of the exact order in which shakespeare's plays were written depends largely on conjecture. external evidence is accessible in only a few cases, and, although always worthy of the utmost consideration, is not invariably conclusive. the date of publication rarely indicates the date of composition. only sixteen of the thirty-seven plays commonly assigned to shakespeare were published in his lifetime, and it is questionable whether any were published under his supervision. { } but subject-matter and metre both afford rough clues to the period in his career to which each play may be referred. in his early plays the spirit of comedy or tragedy appears in its simplicity; as his powers gradually matured he depicted life in its most complex involutions, and portrayed with masterly insight the subtle gradations of human sentiment and the mysterious workings of human passion. comedy and tragedy are gradually blended; and his work finally developed a pathos such as could only come of ripe experience. similarly the metre undergoes emancipation from the hampering restraints of fixed rule and becomes flexible enough to respond to every phase of human feeling. in the blank verse of the early plays a pause is strictly observed at the close of each line, and rhyming couplets are frequent. gradually the poet overrides such artificial restrictions; rhyme largely disappears; recourse is more frequently made to prose; the pause is varied indefinitely; extra syllables are, contrary to strict metrical law, introduced at the end of lines, and at times in the middle; the last word of the line is often a weak and unemphatic conjunction or preposition. { } to the latest plays fantastic and punning conceits which abound in early work are rarely accorded admission. but, while shakespeare's achievement from the beginning to the end of his career offers clearer evidence than that of any other writer of genius of the steady and orderly growth of his poetic faculty, some allowance must be made for ebb and flow in the current of his artistic progress. early work occasionally anticipates features that become habitual to late work, and late work at times embodies traits that are mainly identified with early work. no exclusive reliance in determining the precise chronology can be placed on the merely mechanical tests afforded by tables of metrical statistics. the chronological order can only be deduced with any confidence from a consideration of all the internal characteristics as well as the known external history of each play. the premisses are often vague and conflicting, and no chronology hitherto suggested receives at all points universal assent. 'love's labour's lost.' there is no external evidence to prove that any piece in which shakespeare had a hand was produced before the spring of . no play by him was published before , and none bore his name on the title-page till . but his first essays have been with confidence allotted to . to 'love's labour's lost' may reasonably be assigned priority in point of time of all shakespeare's dramatic productions. internal evidence alone indicates the date of composition, and proves that it was an early effort; but the subject-matter suggests that its author had already enjoyed extended opportunities of surveying london life and manners, such as were hardly open to him in the very first years of his settlement in the metropolis. 'love's labour's lost' embodies keen observation of contemporary life in many ranks of society, both in town and country, while the speeches of the hero biron clothe much sound philosophy in masterly rhetoric. its slender plot stands almost alone among shakespeare's plots in that it is not known to have been borrowed, and stands quite alone in openly travestying known traits and incidents of current social and political life. the names of the chief characters are drawn from the leaders in the civil war in france, which was in progress between and , and was anxiously watched by the english public. { } contemporary projects of academies for disciplining young men; fashions of speech and dress current in fashionable circles; recent attempts on the part of elizabeth's government to negotiate with the tsar of russia; the inefficiency of rural constables and the pedantry of village schoolmasters and curates are all satirised with good humour. the play was revised in , probably for a performance at court. it was first published next year, and on the title-page, which described the piece as 'newly corrected and augmented,' shakespeare's name first appeared in print as that of author of a play. 'two gentlemen of verona.' less gaiety characterised another comedy of the same date, 'the two gentlemen of verona,' which dramatises a romantic story of love and friendship. there is every likelihood that it was an adaptation--amounting to a reformation--of a lost 'history of felix and philomena,' which had been acted at court in . the story is the same as that of 'the shepardess felismena' in the spanish pastoral romance of 'diana' by george de montemayor, which long enjoyed popularity in england. no complete english translation of 'diana' was published before that of bartholomew yonge in , but a manuscript version by thomas wilson, which was dedicated to the earl of southampton in , was possibly circulated far earlier. some verses from 'diana' were translated by sir philip sidney and were printed with his poems as early as . barnabe rich's story of 'apollonius and silla' (from cinthio's 'hecatommithi'), which shakespeare employed again in 'twelfth night,' also gave him some hints. trifling and irritating conceits abound in the 'two gentlemen,' but passages of high poetic spirit are not wanting, and the speeches of the clowns, launce and speed--the precursors of a long line of whimsical serving-men--overflow with farcical drollery. the 'two gentlemen' was not published in shakespeare's lifetime; it first appeared in the folio of , after having, in all probability, undergone some revision. { } 'comedy of errors.' shakespeare next tried his hand, in the 'comedy of errors' (commonly known at the time as 'errors'), at boisterous farce. it also was first published in . again, as in 'love's labour's lost,' allusion was made to the civil war in france. france was described as 'making war against her heir' (iii. ii. ). shakespeare's farcical comedy, which is by far the shortest of all his dramas, may have been founded on a play, no longer extant, called 'the historie of error,' which was acted in at hampton court. in subject-matter it resembles the 'menaechmi' of plautus, and treats of mistakes of identity arising from the likeness of twin-born children. the scene (act iii. sc. i.) in which antipholus of ephesus is shut out from his own house, while his brother and wife are at dinner within, recalls one in the 'amphitruo' of plautus. shakespeare doubtless had direct recourse to plautus as well as to the old play, and he may have read plautus in english. the earliest translation of the 'menaechmi' was not licensed for publication before june , , and was not published until the following year. no translation of any other play of plautus appeared before. but it was stated in the preface to this first published translation of the 'menaechmi' that the translator, w. w., doubtless william warner, a veteran of the elizabethan world of letters, had some time previously 'englished' that and 'divers' others of plautus's comedies, and had circulated them in manuscript 'for the use of and delight of his private friends, who, in plautus's own words, are not able to understand them.' 'romeo and juliet.' such plays as these, although each gave promise of a dramatic capacity out of the common way, cannot be with certainty pronounced to be beyond the ability of other men. it was in 'romeo and juliet,' shakespeare's first tragedy, that he proved himself the possessor of a poetic and dramatic instinct of unprecedented quality. in 'romeo and juliet' he turned to account a tragic romance of italian origin, { a} which was already popular in english versions. arthur broke rendered it into english verse from the italian of bandello in , and william painter had published it in prose in his 'palace of pleasure' in . shakespeare made little change in the plot as drawn from bandello by broke, but he impregnated it with poetic fervour, and relieved the tragic intensity by developing the humour of mercutio, and by grafting on the story the new comic character of the nurse. { b} the ecstasy of youthful passion is portrayed by shakespeare in language of the highest lyric beauty, and although a predilection for quibbles and conceits occasionally passes beyond the author's control, 'romeo and juliet,' as a tragic poem on the theme of love, has no rival in any literature. if the nurse's remark, ''tis since the earthquake now eleven years' (i. iii. ), be taken literally, the composition of the play must be referred to , for no earthquake in the sixteenth century was experienced in england after . there are a few parallelisms with daniel's 'complainte of rosamond,' published in , and it is probable that shakespeare completed the piece in that year. it was first printed anonymously and surreptitiously by john danter in from an imperfect acting copy. a second quarto of (by t. creede for cuthbert burbie) was printed from an authentic version, but the piece had probably undergone revision since its first production. { } of the original representation on the stage of three other pieces of the period we have more explicit information. these reveal shakespeare undisguisedly as an adapter of plays by other hands. though they lack the interest attaching to his unaided work, they throw invaluable light on some of his early methods of composition and his early relations with other dramatists. 'henry vi.' on march , , a new piece, called 'henry vi,' was acted at the rose theatre by lord strange's men. it was no doubt the play which was subsequently known as shakespeare's 'the first part of henry vi.' on its first performance it won a popular triumph. 'how would it have joyed brave talbot (the terror of the french),' wrote nash in his 'pierce pennilesse' ( , licensed august ), in reference to the striking scenes of talbot's death (act iv. sc. vi. and vii.), 'to thinke that after he had lyne two hundred yeares in his tombe, hee should triumphe againe on the stage, and have his bones newe embalmed with the teares of ten thousand spectators at least (at severall times) who, in the tragedian that represents his person, imagine they behold him fresh bleeding!' there is no categorical record of the production of a second piece in continuation of the theme, but such a play quickly followed; for a third piece, treating of the concluding incidents of henry vi's reign, attracted much attention on the stage early in the following autumn. greene's attack. chettle's apology. the applause attending the completion of this historical trilogy caused bewilderment in the theatrical profession. the older dramatists awoke to the fact that their popularity was endangered by the young stranger who had set up his tent in their midst, and one veteran uttered without delay a rancorous protest. robert greene, who died on september , , wrote on his deathbed an ill-natured farewell to life, entitled 'a groats-worth of wit bought with a million of repentance.' addressing three brother dramatists--marlowe, nash, and peele or lodge--he bade them beware of puppets 'that speak from our mouths,' and of 'antics garnished in our colours.' 'there is,' he continued, 'an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his _tygers heart wrapt in a players hide_ supposes he is as well able to bumbast out a blanke verse as the best of you; and being an absolute _johannes factotum_ is, in his owne conceit, the only shake-scene in a countrie. . . . never more acquaint [those apes] with your admired inventions, for it is pity men of such rare wits should be subject to the pleasures of such rude groomes.' the 'only shake-scene' is a punning denunciation of shakespeare. the tirade was probably inspired by an established author's resentment at the energy of a young actor--the theatre's factotum--in revising the dramatic work of his seniors with such masterly effect as to imperil their hold on the esteem of manager and playgoer. the italicised quotation travesties a line from the third piece in the trilogy of shakespeare's 'henry vi:' oh tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide. but shakespeare's amiability of character and versatile ability had already won him admirers, and his successes excited the sympathetic regard of colleagues more kindly than greene. in december greene's publisher, henry chettle, prefixed an apology for greene's attack on the young actor to his 'kind hartes dreame,' a tract reflecting on phases of contemporary social life. 'i am as sory,' chettle wrote, 'as if the originall fault had beene my fault, because myselfe have seene his [_i.e._ shakespeare's] demeanour no lesse civill than he [is] exelent in the qualitie he professes, besides divers of worship have reported his uprightnes of dealing, which argues his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing that aprooves his art.' divided authorship of 'henry vi.' the first of the three plays dealing with the reign of henry vi was originally published in the collected edition of shakespeare's works; the second and third plays were previously printed in a form very different from that which they subsequently assumed when they followed the first part in the folio. criticism has proved beyond doubt that in these plays shakespeare did no more than add, revise, and correct other men's work. in 'the first part of henry vi' the scene in the temple gardens, where white and red roses are plucked as emblems by the rival political parties (act ii. sc. iv.), the dying speech of mortimer, and perhaps the wooing of margaret by suffolk, alone bear the impress of his style. a play dealing with the second part of henry vi's reign was published anonymously from a rough stage copy in , with the title 'the first part of the contention betwixt the two famous houses of yorke and lancaster.' a play dealing with the third part was published with greater care next year under the title 'the true tragedie of richard, duke of yorke, and the death of good king henry the sixt, as it was sundrie times acted by the earl of pembroke his servants.' in both these plays shakespeare's revising hand can be traced. the humours of jack cade in 'the contention' can owe their savour to him alone. after he had hastily revised the original drafts of the three pieces, perhaps with another's aid, they were put on the stage in , the first two parts by his own company (lord strange's men), and the third, under some exceptional arrangement, by lord pembroke's men. but shakespeare was not content to leave them thus. within a brief interval, possibly for a revival, he undertook a more thorough revision, still in conjunction with another writer. 'the first part of the contention' was thoroughly overhauled, and was converted into what was entitled in the folio 'the second part of henry vi;' there more than half the lines are new. 'the true tragedie,' which became 'the third part of henry vi,' was less drastically handled; two-thirds of it was left practically untouched; only a third was thoroughly remodelled. { } shakespeare's coadjutors. who shakespeare's coadjutors were in the two successive revisions of 'henry vi' is matter for conjecture. the theory that greene and peele produced the original draft of the three parts of 'henry vi,' which shakespeare recast, may help to account for greene's indignant denunciation of shakespeare as 'an upstart crow, beautified with the feathers' of himself and his fellow dramatists. much can be said, too, in behalf of the suggestion that shakespeare joined marlowe, the greatest of his predecessors, in the first revision of which 'the contention' and the 'true tragedie' were the outcome. most of the new passages in the second recension seem assignable to shakespeare alone, but a few suggest a partnership resembling that of the first revision. it is probable that marlowe began the final revision, but his task was interrupted by his death, and the lion's share of the work fell to his younger coadjutor. shakespeare's assimilative power. shakespeare shared with other men of genius that receptivity of mind which impels them to assimilate much of the intellectual effort of their contemporaries and to transmute it in the process from unvalued ore into pure gold. had shakespeare not been professionally employed in recasting old plays by contemporaries, he would doubtless have shown in his writings traces of a study of their work. the verses of thomas watson, samuel daniel, michael drayton, sir philip sidney, and thomas lodge were certainly among the rills which fed the mighty river of his poetic and lyric invention. kyd and greene, among rival writers of tragedy, left more or less definite impression on all shakespeare's early efforts in tragedy. it was, however, only to two of his fellow dramatists that his indebtedness as a writer of either comedy or tragedy was material or emphatically defined. superior as shakespeare's powers were to those of marlowe, his coadjutor in 'henry vi,' his early tragedies often reveal him in the character of a faithful disciple of that vehement delineator of tragic passion. shakespeare's early comedies disclose a like relationship between him and lyly. lyly's influence in comedy. lyly is best known as the author of the affected romance of 'euphues,' but between and he produced eight trivial and insubstantial comedies, of which six were written in prose, one was in blank verse, and one was in rhyme. much of the dialogue in shakespeare's comedies, from 'love's labour's lost' to 'much ado about nothing,' consists in thrusting and parrying fantastic conceits, puns, or antitheses. this is the style of intercourse in which most of lyly's characters exclusively indulge. three-fourths of lyly's comedies lightly revolve about topics of classical or fairy mythology--in the very manner which shakespeare first brought to a triumphant issue in his 'midsummer night's dream.' shakespeare's treatment of eccentric character like don armado in 'love's labour's lost' and his boy moth reads like a reminiscence of lyly's portrayal of sir thopas, a fat vainglorious knight, and his boy epiton in the comedy of 'endymion,' while the watchmen in the same play clearly adumbrate shakespeare's dogberry and verges. the device of masculine disguise for love-sick maidens was characteristic of lyly's method before shakespeare ventured on it for the first of many times in 'two gentlemen of verona,' and the dispersal through lyly's comedies of songs possessing every lyrical charm is not the least interesting of the many striking features which shakespeare's achievements in comedy seem to borrow from lyly's comparatively insignificant experiments. { } marlowe's influence in tragedy. 'richard iii.' marlowe, who alone of shakespeare's contemporaries can be credited with exerting on his efforts in tragedy a really substantial influence, was in and at the zenith of his fame. two of shakespeare's earliest historical tragedies, 'richard iii' and 'richard ii,' with the story of shylock in his somewhat later comedy of the 'merchant of venice,' plainly disclose a conscious resolve to follow in marlowe's footsteps. in 'richard iii' shakespeare, working single-handed, takes up the history of england near the point at which marlowe and he, apparently working in partnership, left it in the third part of 'henry vi.' the subject was already familiar to dramatists, but shakespeare sought his materials in the 'chronicle' of holinshed. a latin piece, by dr. thomas legge, had been in favour with academic audiences since , and in the 'true tragedie of richard iii' from some other pen was published anonymously; but shakespeare's piece bears little resemblance to either. throughout shakespeare's 'richard iii' the effort to emulate marlowe is undeniable. the tragedy is, says mr. swinburne, 'as fiery in passion, as single in purpose, as rhetorical often, though never so inflated in expression, as marlowe's "tamburlaine" itself.' the turbulent piece was naturally popular. burbage's impersonation of the hero was one of his most effective performances, and his vigorous enunciation of 'a horse, a horse! my kingdom for a horse!' gave the line proverbial currency. 'richard ii.' 'richard ii' seems to have followed 'richard iii' without delay. subsequently both were published anonymously in the same year ( ) as they had 'been publikely acted by the right honorable the lorde chamberlaine his servants;' but the deposition scene in 'richard ii,' which dealt with a topic distasteful to the queen, was omitted from the early impressions. prose is avoided throughout the play, a certain sign of early work. the piece was probably composed very early in . marlowe's tempestuous vein is less apparent in 'richard ii' than in 'richard iii.' but if 'richard ii' be in style and treatment less deeply indebted to marlowe than its predecessor, it was clearly suggested by marlowe's 'edward ii.' throughout its exposition of the leading theme--the development and collapse of the weak king's character--shakespeare's historical tragedy closely imitates marlowe's. shakespeare drew the facts from holinshed, but his embellishments are numerous, and include the magnificently eloquent eulogy of england which is set in the mouth of john of gaunt. acknowledgments to marlowe. in 'as you like it' (iii. v. ) shakespeare parenthetically commemorated his acquaintance with, and his general indebtedness to, the elder dramatist by apostrophising him in the lines: dead shepherd! now i find thy saw of might: 'who ever loved that loved not at first sight?' the second line is a quotation from marlowe's poem 'hero and leander' (line ). in the 'merry wives of windsor' (iii. i. - ) shakespeare places in the mouth of sir hugh evans snatches of verse from marlowe's charming lyric, 'come live with me and be my love.' between february and the end of the year the london theatres were closed, owing to the prevalence of the plague, and shakespeare doubtless travelled with his company in the country. but his pen was busily employed, and before the close of he gave marvellous proofs of his rapid powers of production. 'titus andronicus.' 'titus andronicus' was in his own lifetime claimed for shakespeare, but edward ravenscroft, who prepared a new version in , wrote of it: 'i have been told by some anciently conversant with the stage that it was not originally his, but brought by a private author to be acted, and he only gave some master-touches to one or two of the principal parts or characters.' ravenscroft's assertion deserves acceptance. the tragedy, a sanguinary picture of the decadence of imperial rome, contains powerful lines and situations, but is far too repulsive in plot and treatment, and too ostentatious in classical allusions, to take rank with shakespeare's acknowledged work. ben jonson credits 'titus andronicus' with a popularity equalling kyd's 'spanish tragedy,' and internal evidence shows that kyd was capable of writing much of 'titus.' it was suggested by a piece called 'titus and vespasian,' which lord strange's men played on april , ; { } this is only extant in a german version acted by english players in germany, and published in . { a} 'titus andronicus' was obviously taken in hand soon after the production of 'titus and vespasian' in order to exploit popular interest in the topic. it was acted by the earl of sussex's men on january , - , when it was described as a new piece; but that it was also acted subsequently by shakespeare's company is shown by the title-page of the first extant edition of , which describes it as having been performed by the earl of derby's and the lord chamberlain's servants (successive titles of shakespeare's company), as well as by those of the earls of pembroke and sussex. it was entered on the 'stationers' register' to john danter on february , . { b} langbaine claims to have seen an edition of this date, but none earlier than that of is now known. 'merchant of venice.' for part of the plot of 'the merchant of venice,' in which two romantic love stories are skilfully blended with a theme of tragic import, shakespeare had recourse to 'il pecorone,' a fourteenth-century collection of italian novels by ser giovanni fiorentino. { c} there a jewish creditor demands a pound of flesh of a defaulting christian debtor, and the latter is rescued through the advocacy of 'the lady of belmont,' who is wife of the debtor's friend. the management of the plot in the italian novel is closely followed by shakespeare. a similar story is slenderly outlined in the popular medieval collection of anecdotes called 'gesta romanorum,' while the tale of the caskets, which shakespeare combined with it in the 'merchant,' is told independently in another portion of the same work. but shakespeare's 'merchant' owes much to other sources, including more than one old play. stephen gosson describes in his 'schoole of abuse' ( ) a lost play called 'the jew . . . showne at the bull [inn]. . . representing the greedinesse of worldly chusers and bloody mindes of usurers.' this description suggests that the two stories of the pound of flesh and the caskets had been combined before for purposes of dramatic representation. the scenes in shakespeare's play in which antonio negotiates with shylock are roughly anticipated, too, by dialogues between a jewish creditor gerontus and a christian debtor in the extant play of 'the three ladies of london,' by r[obert] w[ilson], . there the jew opens the attack on his christian debtor with the lines: signor mercatore, why do you not pay me? think you i will be mocked in this sort? this three times you have flouted me--it seems you make thereat a sport. truly pay me my money, and that even now presently, or by mighty mahomet, i swear i will forthwith arrest thee. subsequently, when the judge is passing judgment in favour of the debtor, the jew interrupts: stay, there, most puissant judge. signor mercatore consider what you do. pay me the principal, as for the interest i forgive it you. shylock and roderigo lopez. above all is it of interest to note that shakespeare in 'the merchant of venice' betrays the last definable traces of his discipleship to marlowe. although the delicate comedy which lightens the serious interest of shakespeare's play sets it in a wholly different category from that of marlowe's 'jew of malta', the humanised portrait of the jew shylock embodies distinct reminiscences of marlowe's caricature of the jew barabbas. but shakespeare soon outpaced his master, and the inspiration that he drew from marlowe in the 'merchant' touches only the general conception of the central figure. doubtless the popular interest aroused by the trial in february and the execution in june of the queen's jewish physician, roderigo lopez, incited shakespeare to a new and subtler study of jewish character. { } for shylock (not the merchant antonio) is the hero of the play, and the main interest culminates in the jew's trial and discomfiture. the bold transition from that solemn scene which trembles on the brink of tragedy to the gently poetic and humorous incidents of the concluding act attests a mastery of stagecraft; but the interest, although it is sustained to the end, is, after shylock's final exit, pitched in a lower key. the 'venesyon comedy,' which henslowe, the manager, produced at the rose on august , , was probably the earliest version of 'the merchant of venice,' and it was revised later. it was not published till , when two editions appeared, each printed from a different stage copy. 'king john.' to must also be assigned 'king john,' which, like the 'comedy of errors' and 'richard ii,' altogether eschews prose. the piece, which was not printed till , was directly adapted from a worthless play called 'the troublesome raigne of king john' ( ), which was fraudulently reissued in as 'written by w. sh.,' and in as by 'w. shakespeare.' there is very small ground for associating marlowe's name with the old play. into the adaptation shakespeare flung all his energy, and the theme grew under his hand into genuine tragedy. the three chief characters--the mean and cruel king, the noblehearted and desperately wronged constance, and the soldierly humourist, faulconbridge--are in all essentials of his own invention, and are portrayed with the same sureness of touch that marked in shylock his rapidly maturing strength. the scene, in which the gentle boy arthur learns from hubert that the king has ordered his eyes to be put out, is as affecting as any passage in tragic literature. 'comedy of errors' in gray's inn hall. at the close of a performance of shakespeare's early farce, 'the comedy of errors,' gave him a passing notoriety that he could well have spared. the piece was played on the evening of innocents' day (december ), , in the hall of gray's inn, before a crowded audience of benchers, students, and their friends. there was some disturbance during the evening on the part of guests from the inner temple, who, dissatisfied with the accommodation afforded them, retired in dudgeon. 'so that night,' the contemporary chronicler states, 'was begun and continued to the end in nothing but confusion and errors, whereupon it was ever afterwards called the "night of errors."' { } shakespeare was acting on the same day before the queen at greenwich, and it is doubtful if he were present. on the morrow a commission of oyer and terminer inquired into the causes of the tumult, which was attributed to a sorcerer having 'foisted a company of base and common fellows to make up our disorders with a play of errors and confusions.' early plays doubtfully assigned to shakespeare. two plays of uncertain authorship attracted public attention during the period under review ( - )--'arden of feversham' (licensed for publication april , , and published in ) and 'edward iii' (licensed for publication december , , and published in ). shakespeare's hand has been traced in both, mainly on the ground that their dramatic energy is of a quality not to be discerned in the work of any contemporary whose writings are extant. there is no external evidence in favour of shakespeare's authorship in either case. 'arden of feversham' dramatises with intensity and insight a sordid murder of a husband by a wife which took place at faversham in , and was fully reported by holinshed. the subject is of a different type from any which shakespeare is known to have treated, and although the play may be, as mr. swinburne insists, 'a young man's work,' it bears no relation either in topic or style to the work on which young shakespeare was engaged at a period so early as or . 'edward iii' is a play in marlowe's vein, and has been assigned to shakespeare on even more shadowy grounds. capell reprinted it in his 'prolusions' in , and described it as 'thought to be writ by shakespeare.' many speeches scattered through the drama, and one whole scene--that in which the countess of salisbury repulses the advances of edward iii--show the hand of a master (act ii. sc. ii.) but there is even in the style of these contributions much to dissociate them from shakespeare's acknowledged productions, and to justify their ascription to some less gifted disciple of marlowe. { a} a line in act ii. sc. i. ('lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds') reappears in shakespeare's sonnets' (xciv. l. ). { b} it was contrary to his practice to literally plagiarise himself. the line in the play was doubtless borrowed from a manuscript copy of the 'sonnets.' 'mucedorus.' two other popular plays of the period, 'mucedorus' and 'faire em,' have also been assigned to shakespeare on slighter provocation. in charles ii.'s library they were bound together in a volume labelled 'shakespeare, vol. i.,' and bold speculators have occasionally sought to justify the misnomer. 'mucedorus,' an elementary effort in romantic comedy, dates from the early years of elizabeth's reign; it was first published, doubtless after undergoing revision, in , and was reissued, 'amplified with new additions,' in . mr. payne collier, who included it in his privately printed edition of shakespeare in , was confident that a scene interpolated in the version (in which the king of valentia laments the supposed loss of his son) displayed genius which shakespeare alone could compass. however readily critics may admit the superiority in literary value of the interpolated scene to anything else in the piece, few will accept mr. collier's extravagant estimate. the scene was probably from the pen of an admiring but faltering imitator of shakespeare. { } 'faire em.' 'faire em,' although not published till , was acted by shakespeare's company while lord strange was its patron, and some lines from it are quoted for purposes of ridicule by robert greene in his 'farewell to folly' in . it is another rudimentary endeavour in romantic comedy, and has not even the pretension of 'mucedorus' to one short scene of conspicuous literary merit. vi--the first appeal to the reading public publication of 'venus and adonis.' during the busy years ( - ) that witnessed his first pronounced successes as a dramatist, shakespeare came before the public in yet another literary capacity. on april , , richard field, the printer, who was his fellow-townsman, obtained a license for the publication of 'venus and adonis,' a metrical version of a classical tale of love. it was published a month or two later, without an author's name on the title-page, but shakespeare appended his full name to the dedication, which he addressed in conventional style to henry wriothesley, third earl of southampton. the earl, who was in his twentieth year, was reckoned the handsomest man at court, with a pronounced disposition to gallantry. he had vast possessions, was well educated, loved literature, and through life extended to men of letters a generous patronage. { } 'i know not how i shall offend,' shakespeare now wrote to him, 'in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden. . . . but if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, i shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather.' 'the first heir of my invention' implies that the poem was written, or at least designed, before shakespeare's dramatic work. it is affluent in beautiful imagery and metrical sweetness, but imbued with a tone of license which may be held either to justify the theory that it was a precocious product of the author's youth, or to show that shakespeare was not unready in mature years to write with a view to gratifying a patron's somewhat lascivious tastes. the title-page bears a beautiful latin motto from ovid's 'amores:' { a} vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus apollo pocula castalia plena ministret aqua. the influence of ovid, who told the story in his 'metamorphoses,' is apparent in many of the details. but the theme was doubtless first suggested to shakespeare by a contemporary effort. lodge's 'scillaes metamorphosis,' which appeared in , is not only written in the same metre (six-line stanzas rhyming _a b a b c c_), but narrates in the exordium the same incidents in the same spirit. there is little doubt that shakespeare drew from lodge some of his inspiration. { b} 'lucrece.' a year after the issue of 'venus and adonis,' in , shakespeare published another poem in like vein, but far more mature in temper and execution. the digression (ll. - ) on the destroying power of time, especially, is in an exalted key of meditation which is not sounded in the earlier poem. the metre, too, is changed; seven-line stanzas (chaucer's rhyme royal, _a b a b b c c_) take the place of six-line stanzas. the second poem was entered in the 'stationers' registers' on may , , under the title of 'a booke intitled the ravyshement of lucrece,' and was published in the same year under the title 'lucrece.' richard field printed it, and john harrison published and sold it at the sign of the white greyhound in st. paul's churchyard. the classical story of lucretia's ravishment and suicide is briefly recorded in ovid's 'fasti,' but chaucer had retold it in his 'legend of good women,' and shakespeare must have read it there. again, in topic and metre, the poem reflected a contemporary poet's work. samuel daniel's 'complaint of rosamond,' with its seven-line stanza ( ), stood to 'lucrece' in even closer relation than lodge's 'scilla,' with its six-line stanza, to 'venus and adonis.' the pathetic accents of shakespeare's heroine are those of daniel's heroine purified and glorified. { a} the passage on time is elaborated from one in watson's 'passionate centurie of love' (no. lxxvii.) { b} shakespeare dedicated his second volume of poetry to the earl of southampton, the patron of his first. he addressed him in terms of devoted friendship, which were not uncommon at the time in communications between patrons and poets, but suggest that shakespeare's relations with the brilliant young nobleman had grown closer since he dedicated 'venus and adonis' to him in colder language a year before. 'the love i dedicate to your lordship,' shakespeare wrote in the opening pages of 'lucrece,' 'is without end, whereof this pamphlet without beginning is but a superfluous moiety. . . what i have done is yours; what i have to do is yours; being part in all i have, devoted yours.' enthusiastic reception of the poems. in these poems shakespeare made his earliest appeal to the world of readers, and the reading public welcomed his addresses with unqualified enthusiasm. the london playgoer already knew shakespeare's name as that of a promising actor and playwright, but his dramatic efforts had hitherto been consigned in manuscript, as soon as the theatrical representation ceased, to the coffers of their owner, the playhouse manager. his early plays brought him at the outset little reputation as a man of letters. it was not as the myriad-minded dramatist, but in the restricted role of adapter for english readers of familiar ovidian fables, that he first impressed a wide circle of his contemporaries with the fact of his mighty genius. the perfect sweetness of the verse, and the poetical imagery in 'venus and adonis' and 'lucrece' practically silenced censure of the licentious treatment of the themes on the part of the seriously minded. critics vied with each other in the exuberance of the eulogies in which they proclaimed that the fortunate author had gained a place in permanence on the summit of parnassus. 'lucrece,' wrote michael drayton in his 'legend of matilda' ( ), was 'revived to live another age.' in william clerke in his 'polimanteia' gave 'all praise' to 'sweet shakespeare' for his 'lucrecia.' john weever, in a sonnet addressed to 'honey-tongued shakespeare' in his 'epigramms' ( ), eulogised the two poems as an unmatchable achievement, although he mentioned the plays 'romeo' and 'richard' and 'more whose names i know not.' richard carew at the same time classed him with marlowe as deserving the praises of an english catullus. { } printers and publishers of the poems strained their resources to satisfy the demands of eager purchasers. no fewer than seven editions of 'venus' appeared between and ; an eighth followed in . 'lucrece' achieved a fifth edition in the year of shakespeare's death. shakespeare and spenser. there is a likelihood, too, that spenser, the greatest of shakespeare's poetic contemporaries, was first drawn by the poems into the ranks of shakespeare's admirers. it is hardly doubtful that spenser described shakespeare in 'colin clouts come home againe' (completed in ), under the name of 'aetion'--a familiar greek proper name derived from [greek text], an eagle: and there, though last not least is aetion; a gentler shepheard may no where be found, whose muse, full of high thought's invention, doth, like himselfe, heroically sound. the last line seems to allude to shakespeare's surname. we may assume that the admiration was mutual. at any rate shakespeare acknowledged acquaintance with spenser's work in a plain reference to his 'teares of the muses' ( ) in 'midsummer night's dream' (v. i. - ). the thrice three muses, mourning for the death of learning, late deceased in beggary, is stated to be the theme of one of the dramatic entertainments wherewith it is proposed to celebrate theseus's marriage. in spenser's 'teares of the muses' each of the nine laments in turn her declining influence on the literary and dramatic effort of the age. theseus dismisses the suggestion with the not inappropriate comment: that is some satire keen and critical, not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. but there is no ground for assuming that spenser in the same poem referred figuratively to shakespeare when he made thalia deplore the recent death of 'our pleasant willy.' { } the name willy was frequently used in contemporary literature as a term of familiarity without relation to the baptismal name of the person referred to. sir philip sidney was addressed as 'willy' by some of his elegists. a comic actor, 'dead of late' in a literal sense, was clearly intended by spenser, and there is no reason to dispute the view of an early seventeenth-century commentator that spenser was paying a tribute to the loss english comedy had lately sustained by the death of the comedian, richard tarleton. { a} similarly the 'gentle spirit' who is described by spenser in a later stanza as sitting 'in idle cell' rather than turn his pen to base uses cannot be reasonably identified with shakespeare. { b} patrons at court. meanwhile shakespeare was gaining personal esteem outside the circles of actors and men of letters. his genius and 'civil demeanour' of which chettle wrote arrested the notice not only of southampton but of other noble patrons of literature and the drama. his summons to act at court with the most famous actors of the day at the christmas of was possibly due in part to personal interest in himself. elizabeth quickly showed him special favour. until the end of her reign his plays were repeatedly acted in her presence. the revised version of 'love's labour's lost' was given at whitehall at christmas , and tradition credits the queen with unconcealed enthusiasm for falstaff, who came into being a little later. under elizabeth's successor he greatly strengthened his hold on royal favour, but ben jonson claimed that the queen's appreciation equalled that of james i. when jonson wrote in his elegy on shakespeare of those flights upon the banks of thames that so did take eliza and our james, he was mindful of many representations of shakespeare's plays by the poet and his fellow-actors at the palaces of whitehall, richmond, or greenwich during the last decade of elizabeth's reign. vii--the sonnets and their literary history the vogue of the elizabethan sonnet. it was doubtless to shakespeare's personal relations with men and women of the court that his sonnets owed their existence. in italy and france, the practice of writing and circulating series of sonnets inscribed to great men and women flourished continuously throughout the sixteenth century. in england, until the last decade of that century, the vogue was intermittent. wyatt and surrey inaugurated sonnetteering in the english language under henry viii, and thomas watson devoted much energy to the pursuit when shakespeare was a boy. but it was not until , when sir philip sidney's collection of sonnets entitled 'astrophel and stella' was first published, that the sonnet enjoyed in england any conspicuous or continuous favour. for the half-dozen years following the appearance of sir philip sidney's volume the writing of sonnets, both singly and in connected sequences, engaged more literary activity in this country than it engaged at any period here or elsewhere. { } men and women of the cultivated elizabethan nobility encouraged poets to celebrate in single sonnets their virtues and graces, and under the same patronage there were produced multitudes of sonnet-sequences which more or less fancifully narrated, after the manner of petrarch and his successors, the pleasures and pains of love. between and no aspirant to poetic fame in the country failed to seek a patron's ears by a trial of skill on the popular poetic instrument, and shakespeare, who habitually kept abreast of the currents of contemporary literary taste, applied himself to sonnetteering with all the force of his poetic genius when the fashion was at its height. shakespeare's first experiments. shakespeare had lightly experimented with the sonnet from the outset of his literary career. three well-turned examples figure in 'love's labour's lost,' probably his earliest play; two of the choruses in 'romeo and juliet' are couched in the sonnet form; and a letter of the heroine helen, in 'all's well that ends well,' which bears traces of very early composition, takes the same shape. it has, too, been argued ingeniously, if not convincingly, that he was author of the somewhat clumsy sonnet, 'phaeton to his friend florio,' which prefaced in florio's 'second frutes,' a series of italian-english dialogues for students. { } majority of shakespeare's sonnets composed in . but these were sporadic efforts. it was not till the spring of , after shakespeare had secured a nobleman's patronage for his earliest publication, 'venus and adonis,' that he became a sonnetteer on an extended scale. of the hundred and fifty-four sonnets that survive outside his plays, the greater number were in all likelihood composed between that date and the autumn of , during his thirtieth and thirty-first years. his occasional reference in the sonnets to his growing age was a conventional device--traceable to petrarch--of all sonnetteers of the day, and admits of no literal interpretation. { } in matter and in manner the bulk of the poems suggest that they came from the pen of a man not much more than thirty. doubtless he renewed his sonnetteering efforts occasionally and at irregular intervals during the nine years which elapsed between and the accession of james i in . but to very few of the extant examples can a date later than be allotted with confidence. sonnet cvii., in which plain reference is made to queen elizabeth's death, may be fairly regarded as a belated and a final act of homage on shakespeare's part to the importunate vogue of the elizabethan sonnet. all the evidence, whether internal or external, points to the conclusion that the sonnet exhausted such fascination as it exerted on shakespeare before his dramatic genius attained its full height. their literary value. in literary value shakespeare's sonnets are notably unequal. many reach levels of lyric melody and meditative energy that are hardly to be matched elsewhere in poetry. the best examples are charged with the mellowed sweetness of rhythm and metre, the depth of thought and feeling, the vividness of imagery and the stimulating fervour of expression which are the finest fruits of poetic power. on the other hand, many sink almost into inanity beneath the burden of quibbles and conceits. in both their excellences and their defects shakespeare's sonnets betray near kinship to his early dramatic work, in which passages of the highest poetic temper at times alternate with unimpressive displays of verbal jugglery. in phraseology the sonnets often closely resemble such early dramatic efforts as 'love's labour's lost' and 'romeo and juliet.' there is far more concentration in the sonnets than in 'venus and adonis' or in 'lucrece,' although occasional utterances of shakespeare's roman heroine show traces of the intensity that characterises the best of them. the superior and more evenly sustained energy of the sonnets is to be attributed, not to the accession of power that comes with increase of years, but to the innate principles of the poetic form, and to metrical exigencies, which impelled the sonnetteer to aim at a uniform condensation of thought and language. circulation in manuscript. in accordance with a custom that was not uncommon, shakespeare did not publish his sonnets; he circulated them in manuscript. { } but their reputation grew, and public interest was aroused in them in spite of his unreadiness to give them publicity. a line from one of them: lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds (xciv. ), { a} was quoted in the play of 'edward iii,' which was probably written before . meres, writing in , enthusiastically commends shakespeare's 'sugred { b} sonnets among his private friends,' and mentions them in close conjunction with his two narrative poems. william jaggard piratically inserted in two of the most mature of the series (nos. cxxxviii. and cxliv.) in his 'passionate pilgrim.' their piratical publication in . 'a lover's complaint.' at length, in , the sonnets were surreptitiously sent to press. thomas thorpe, the moving spirit in the design of their publication, was a camp-follower of the regular publishing army. he was professionally engaged in procuring for publication literary works which had been widely disseminated in written copies, and had thus passed beyond their authors' control; for the law then recognised no natural right in an author to the creations of his brain, and the full owner of a manuscript copy of any literary composition was entitled to reproduce it, or to treat it as he pleased, without reference to the author's wishes. thorpe's career as a procurer of neglected 'copy' had begun well. he made, in , his earliest hit by bringing to light marlowe's translation of the 'first book of lucan.' on may , , he obtained a license for the publication of 'shakespeares sonnets,' and this tradesman-like form of title figured not only on the 'stationers' company's registers,' but on the title-page. thorpe employed george eld to print the manuscript, and two booksellers, william aspley and john wright, to distribute it to the public. on half the edition aspley's name figured as that of the seller, and on the other half that of wright. the book was issued in june, { } and the owner of the 'copy' left the public under no misapprehension as to his share in the production by printing above his initials a dedicatory preface from his own pen. the appearance in a book of a dedication from the publisher's (instead of from the author's) pen was, unless the substitution was specifically accounted for on other grounds, an accepted sign that the author had no hand in the publication. except in the case of his two narrative poems, which were published in and respectively, shakespeare made no effort to publish any of his works, and uncomplainingly submitted to the wholesale piracies of his plays and the ascription to him of books by other hands. such practices were encouraged by his passive indifference and the contemporary condition of the law of copyright. he cannot be credited with any responsibility for the publication of thorpe's collection of his sonnets in . with characteristic insolence thorpe took the added liberty of appending a previously unprinted poem of forty-nine seven-line stanzas (the metre of 'lucrece') entitled 'a lover's complaint,' in which a girl laments her betrayal by a deceitful youth. the poem, in a gentle spenserian vein, has no connection with the 'sonnets.' if, as is possible, it be by shakespeare, it must have been written in very early days. thomas thorpe and 'mr. w. h.' a misunderstanding respecting thorpe's preface and his part in the publication has led many critics into a serious misinterpretation of shakespeare's poems. { } thorpe's dedication was couched in the bombastic language which was habitual to him. he advertised shakespeare as 'our ever-living poet.' as the chief promoter of the undertaking, he called himself 'the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth,' and in resonant phrase designated as the patron of the venture a partner in the speculation, 'mr. w. h.' in the conventional dedicatory formula of the day he wished 'mr. w. h.' 'all happiness' and 'eternity,' such eternity as shakespeare in the text of the sonnets conventionally foretold for his own verse. when thorpe was organising the issue of marlowe's 'first book of lucan' in , he sought the patronage of edward blount, a friend in the trade. 'w. h.' was doubtless in a like position. he is best identified with a stationer's assistant, william hall, who was professionally engaged, like thorpe, in procuring 'copy.' in 'w. h.' won a conspicuous success in that direction, and conducted his operations under cover of the familiar initials. in that year 'w. h.' announced that he had procured a neglected manuscript poem--'a foure-fould meditation'--by the jesuit robert southwell who had been executed in , and he published it with a dedication (signed 'w. h.') vaunting his good fortune in meeting with such treasure-trove. when thorpe dubbed 'mr. w. h.,' with characteristic magniloquence, 'the onlie begetter [_i.e._ obtainer or procurer] of these ensuing sonnets,' he merely indicated that that personage was the first of the pirate-publisher fraternity to procure a manuscript of shakespeare's sonnets and recommend its surreptitious issue. in accordance with custom, thorpe gave hall's initials only, because he was an intimate associate who was known by those initials to their common circle of friends. hall was not a man of sufficiently wide public reputation to render it probable that the printing of his full name would excite additional interest in the book or attract buyers. the common assumption that thorpe in this boastful preface was covertly addressing, under the initials 'mr. w. h.,' a young nobleman, to whom the sonnets were originally addressed by shakespeare, ignores the elementary principles of publishing transactions of the day, and especially of those of the type to which thorpe's efforts were confined. { } there was nothing mysterious or fantastic, although from a modern point of view there was much that lacked principle, in thorpe's methods of business. his choice of patron for this, like all his volumes, was dictated solely by his mercantile interests. he was under no inducement and in no position to take into consideration the affairs of shakespeare's private life. shakespeare, through all but the earliest stages of his career, belonged socially to a world that was cut off by impassable barriers from that in which thorpe pursued his calling. it was wholly outside thorpe's aims in life to seek to mystify his customers by investing a dedication with any cryptic significance. no peer of the day, moreover, bore a name which could be represented by the initials 'mr. w. h.' shakespeare was never on terms of intimacy (although the contrary has often been recklessly assumed) with william, third earl of pembroke, when a youth. { } but were complete proofs of the acquaintanceship forthcoming, they would throw no light on thorpe's 'mr. w. h.' the earl of pembroke was, from his birth to the date of his succession to the earldom in , known by the courtesy title of lord herbert and by no other name, and he could not have been designated at any period of his life by the symbols 'mr. w. h.' in pembroke was a high officer of state, and numerous books were dedicated to him in all the splendour of his many titles. star-chamber penalties would have been exacted of any publisher or author who denied him in print his titular distinctions. thorpe had occasion to dedicate two books to the earl in later years, and he there showed not merely that he was fully acquainted with the compulsory etiquette, but that his sycophantic temperament rendered him only eager to improve on the conventional formulas of servility. any further consideration of thorpe's address to 'mr. w. h.' belongs to the biographies of thorpe and his friend; it lies outside the scope of shakespeare's biography. { a} the form of shakespeare's sonnets. shakespeare's 'sonnets' ignore the somewhat complex scheme of rhyme adopted by petrarch, whom the elizabethan sonnetteers, like the french sonnetteers of the sixteenth century, recognised to be in most respects their master. following the example originally set by surrey and wyatt, and generally pursued by shakespeare's contemporaries, his sonnets aim at far greater metrical simplicity than the italian or the french. they consist of three decasyllabic quatrains with a concluding couplet, and the quatrains rhyme alternately. { b} a single sonnet does not always form an independent poem. as in the french and italian sonnets of the period, and in those of spenser, sidney, daniel, and drayton, the same train of thought is at times pursued continuously through two or more. the collection of shakespeare's sonnets thus presents the appearance of an extended series of independent poems, many in a varying number of fourteen-line stanzas. the longest sequence (i.-xvii.) numbers seventeen sonnets, and in thorpe's edition opens the volume. want of continuity. the two 'groups.' it is unlikely that the order in which the poems were printed follows the order in which they were written. fantastic endeavours have been made to detect in the original arrangement of the poems a closely connected narrative, but the thread is on any showing constantly interrupted. { } it is usual to divide the sonnets into two groups, and to represent that all those numbered i.-cxxvi. by thorpe were addressed to a young man, and all those numbered cxxvii.-cliv. were addressed to a woman. this division cannot be literally justified. in the first group some eighty of the sonnets can be proved to be addressed to a man by the use of the masculine pronoun or some other unequivocal sign; but among the remaining forty there is no clear indication of the kind. many of these forty are meditative soliloquies which address no person at all (cf. cv. cxvi. cxix. cxxi.) a few invoke abstractions like death (lxvi.) or time (cxxiii.), or 'benefit of ill' (cxix.) the twelve-lined poem (cxxvi.), the last of the first 'group,' does little more than sound a variation on the conventional poetic invocations of cupid or love personified as a boy. { } and there is no valid objection to the assumption that the poet inscribed the rest of these forty sonnets to a woman (cf. xxi. xlvi. xlvii.) similarly, the sonnets in the second 'group' (cxxvii.-cliv.) have no uniform superscription. six invoke no person at all. no. cxxviii. is an overstrained compliment on a lady playing on the virginals. no. cxxix. is a metaphysical disquisition on lust. no. cxlv. is a playful lyric in octosyllabics, like lyly's song of 'cupid and campaspe,' and its tone has close affinity to that and other of lyly's songs. no. cxlvi. invokes the soul of man. nos. cliii. and cliv. soliloquise on an ancient greek apologue on the force of cupid's fire. { } main topics of the first 'group.' the choice and succession of topics in each 'group' give to neither genuine cohesion. in the first 'group' the long opening sequence (i.-xvii.) forms the poet's appeal to a young man to marry so that his youth and beauty may survive in children. there is almost a contradiction in terms between the poet's handling of that topic and his emphatic boast in the two following sonnets (xviii.-xix.) that his verse alone is fully equal to the task of immortalising his friend's youth and accomplishments. the same asseveration is repeated in many later sonnets (cf. lv. lx. lxiii. lxxiv. lxxxi. ci. cvii.) these alternate with conventional adulation of the beauty of the object of the poet's affections (cf. xxi. liii. lxviii.) and descriptions of the effects of absence in intensifying devotion (cf. xlviii. l. cxiii.) there are many reflections on the nocturnal torments of a lover (cf. xxvii. xxviii. xliii. lxi.) and on his blindness to the beauty of spring or summer when he is separated from his love (cf. xcvii. xcviii.) at times a youth is rebuked for sensual indulgences; he has sought and won the favour of the poet's mistress in the poet's absence, but the poet is forgiving (xxxii.-xxxv. xl.-xlii. lxix. xcv.-xcvi.) in sonnet lxx. the young man whom the poet addresses is credited with a different disposition and experience: and thou present'st a pure unstained prime. thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, either not assail'd, or victor being charg'd! at times melancholy overwhelms the writer: he despairs of the corruptions of the age (lxvi.), reproaches himself with carnal sin (cxix.), declares himself weary of his profession of acting (cxi. cxii.), and foretells his approaching death (lxxi.-lxxiv.) throughout are dispersed obsequious addresses to the youth in his capacity of sole patron of the poet's verse (cf. xxiii. xxxvii. c. ci. ciii. civ.) but in one sequence the friend is sorrowfully reproved for bestowing his patronage on rival poets (lxxviii.-lxxxvi.) in three sonnets near the close of the first group in the original edition, the writer gives varied assurances of his constancy in love or friendship which apply indifferently to man or woman (cf. cxxii. cxxiv. cxxv.) main topics of the second 'group.' in two sonnets of the second 'group' (cxxvi.-clii.) the poet compliments his mistress on her black complexion and raven-black hair and eyes. in twelve sonnets he hotly denounces his 'dark' mistress for her proud disdain of his affection, and for her manifold infidelities with other men. apparently continuing a theme of the first 'group,' the poet rebukes the woman, whom he addresses, for having beguiled his friend to yield himself to her seductions (cxxxiii.-cxxxvi.) elsewhere he makes satiric reflections on the extravagant compliments paid to the fair sex by other sonnetteers (no. cxxx.) or lightly quibbles on his name of 'will' (cxxx.-vi.) in tone and subject-matter numerous sonnets in the second as in the first 'group' lack visible sign of coherence with those they immediately precede or follow. it is not merely a close study of the text that confutes the theory, for which recent writers have fought hard, of a logical continuity in thorpe's arrangement of the poems in . there remains the historic fact that readers and publishers of the seventeenth century acknowledged no sort of significance in the order in which the poems first saw the light. when the sonnets were printed for a second time in --thirty-one years after their first appearance--they were presented in a completely different order. the short descriptive titles which were then supplied to single sonnets or to short sequences proved that the collection was regarded as a disconnected series of occasional poems in more or less amorous vein. lack of genuine sentiment in elizabethan sonnets. their dependence on french and italian models. in whatever order shakespeare's sonnets be studied, the claim that has been advanced in their behalf to rank as autobiographical documents can only be accepted with many qualifications. elizabethan sonnets were commonly the artificial products of the poet's fancy. a strain of personal emotion is occasionally discernible in a detached effort, and is vaguely traceable in a few sequences; but autobiographical confessions were very rarely the stuff of which the elizabethan sonnet was made. the typical collection of elizabethan sonnets was a mosaic of plagiarisms, a medley of imitative studies. echoes of the french or of the italian sonnetteers, with their platonic idealism, are usually the dominant notes. the echoes often have a musical quality peculiar to themselves. daniel's fine sonnet (xlix.) on 'care-charmer, sleep,' although directly inspired by the french, breathes a finer melody than the sonnet of pierre de brach { a} apostrophising 'le sommeil chasse-soin' (in the collection entitled 'les amours d'aymee'), or the sonnet of philippe desportes invoking 'sommeil, paisible fils de la nuit solitaire' (in the collection entitled 'amours d'hippolyte'). { b} but, throughout elizabethan sonnet literature, the heavy debt to italian and french effort is unmistakable. { c} spenser, in , at the outset of his literary career, avowedly translated numerous sonnets from du bellay and from petrarch, and his friend gabriel harvey bestowed on him the title of 'an english petrarch'--the highest praise that the critic conceived it possible to bestow on an english sonnetteer. { d} thomas watson in , in his collection of metrically irregular sonnets which he entitled '[greek text], or a passionate century of love,' prefaced each poem, which he termed a 'passion,' with a prose note of its origin and intention. watson frankly informed his readers that one 'passion' was 'wholly translated out of petrarch;' that in another passion 'he did very busily imitate and augment a certain ode of ronsard;' while 'the sense or matter of "a third" was taken out of serafino in his "strambotti."' in every case watson gave the exact reference to his foreign original, and frequently appended a quotation. { a} drayton in , in the dedicatory sonnet of his collection of sonnets entitled 'idea,' declared that it was 'a fault too common in this latter time' 'to filch from desportes or from petrarch's pen.' { b} lodge did not acknowledge his borrowings more specifically than his colleagues, but he made a plain profession of indebtedness to desportes when he wrote: 'few men are able to second the sweet conceits of philippe desportes, whose poetical writings are ordinarily in everybody's hand.' { c} giles fletcher, who in his collection of sonnets called 'licia' ( ) simulated the varying moods of a lover under the sway of a great passion as successfully as most of his rivals, stated on his title-page that his poems were all written in 'imitation of the best latin poets and others.' very many of the love-sonnets in the series of sixty-eight penned ten years later by william drummond of hawthornden have been traced to their sources in the italian sonnets not merely of petrarch, but of the sixteenth-century poets guarini, bembo, giovanni battista marino, tasso, and sannazzaro. { a} the elizabethans usually gave the fictitious mistresses after whom their volumes of sonnets were called the names that had recently served the like purpose in france. daniel followed maurice seve { b} in christening his collection 'delia;' constable followed desportes in christening his collection 'diana;' while drayton not only applied to his sonnets on his title-page in the french term 'amours,' but bestowed on his imaginary heroine the title of idea, which seems to have been the invention of claude de pontoux, { c} although it was employed by other french contemporaries. sonnetteers' admission of insincerity. with good reason sir philip sidney warned the public that 'no inward touch' was to be expected from sonnetteers of his day, whom he describes as '[men] that do dictionary's method bring into their rhymes running in rattling rows; [men] that poor petrarch's long deceased woes with newborn sighs and denizened wit do sing.' sidney unconvincingly claimed greater sincerity for his own experiments. but 'even amorous sonnets in the gallantest and sweetest civil vein,' wrote gabriel harvey in 'pierces supererogation' in , 'are but dainties of a pleasurable wit.' drayton's sonnets more nearly approached shakespeare's in quality than those of any contemporary. yet drayton told the readers of his collection entitled 'idea' { } (after the french) that if any sought genuine passion in them, they had better go elsewhere. 'in all humours _sportively_ he ranged,' he declared. giles fletcher, in , introduced his collection of imitative sonnets entitled 'licia, or poems of love,' with the warning, 'now in that i have written love sonnets, if any man measure my affection by my style, let him say i am in love. . . . here, take this by the way . . . a man may write of love and not be in love, as well as of husbandry and not go to the plough, or of witches and be none, or of holiness and be profane.' { a} contemporary censure of sonnetteers' false sentiment. 'gulling sonnets.' the dissemination of false sentiment by the sonnetteers, and their monotonous and mechanical treatment of 'the pangs of despised love' or the joys of requited affection, did not escape the censure of contemporary criticism. the air soon rang with sarcastic protests from the most respected writers of the day. in early life gabriel harvey wittily parodied the mingling of adulation and vituperation in the conventional sonnet-sequence in his 'amorous odious sonnet intituled the student's loove or hatrid.' { b} chapman in , in a series of sonnets entitled 'a coronet for his mistress philosophy,' appealed to his literary comrades to abandon 'the painted cabinet' of the love-sonnet for a coffer of genuine worth. but the most resolute of the censors of the sonnetteering vogue was the poet and lawyer, sir john davies. in a sonnet addressed about to his friend, sir anthony cooke (the patron of drayton's 'idea'), he inveighed against the 'bastard sonnets' which 'base rhymers' 'daily' begot 'to their own shames and poetry's disgrace.' in his anxiety to stamp out the folly he wrote and circulated in manuscript a specimen series of nine 'gulling sonnets' or parodies of the conventional efforts. { a} even shakespeare does not seem to have escaped davies's condemnation. sir john is especially severe on the sonnetteers who handled conceits based on legal technicalities, and his eighth 'gulling sonnet,' in which he ridicules the application of law terms to affairs of the heart, may well have been suggested by shakespeare's legal phraseology in his sonnets lxxxvii. and cxxiv.; { b} while davies's sonnet ix., beginning: 'to love, my lord, i do knight's service owe' must have parodied shakespeare's sonnet xxvi., beginning: 'lord of my love, to whom in vassalage,' etc. { c} shakespeare's scornful allusion to sonnets in his plays. echoes of the critical hostility are heard, it is curious to note, in nearly all the references that shakespeare himself makes to sonnetteering in his plays. 'tush, none but minstrels like of sonnetting,' exclaims biron in 'love's labour's lost' (iv. iii. ). in the 'two gentlemen of verona' (iii. ii. seq.) there is a satiric touch in the recipe for the conventional love-sonnet which proteus offers the amorous duke: you must lay lime to tangle her desires by wailful sonnets whose composed rime should be full fraught with serviceable vows . . . say that upon the altar of her beauty you sacrifice your sighs, your tears, your heart. mercutio treats elizabethan sonnetteers even less respectfully when alluding to them in his flouts at romeo: 'now is he for the numbers that petrarch flowed in: laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench. marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her.' { } in later plays shakespeare's disdain of the sonnet is still more pronounced. in 'henry v' (iii. vii. et seq.) the dauphin, after bestowing ridiculously magniloquent commendation on his charger, remarks, 'i once writ a sonnet in his praise, and begun thus: "wonder of nature!"' the duke of orleans retorts: 'i have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.' the dauphin replies: 'then did they imitate that which i composed to my courser; for my horse is my mistress.' in 'much ado about nothing' (v. ii. - ) margaret, hero's waiting-woman, mockingly asks benedick to 'write her a sonnet in praise of her beauty.' benedick jestingly promises one so 'in high a style that no man living shall come over it.' subsequently (v. iv. ) benedick is convicted, to the amusement of his friends, of penning 'a halting sonnet of his own pure brain' in praise of beatrice. viii--the borrowed conceits of the sonnets slender autobiographical element in shakespeare's sonnets. the imitative element. at a first glance a far larger proportion of shakespeare's sonnets give the reader the illusion of personal confessions than those of any contemporary, but when allowance has been made for the current conventions of elizabethan sonnetteering, as well as for shakespeare's unapproached affluence in dramatic instinct and invention--an affluence which enabled him to identify himself with every phase of emotion--the autobiographic element in his sonnets, although it may not be dismissed altogether, is seen to shrink to slender proportions. as soon as the collection is studied comparatively with the many thousand sonnets that the printing presses of england, france, and italy poured forth during the last years of the sixteenth century, a vast number of shakespeare's performances prove to be little more than professional trials of skill, often of superlative merit, to which he deemed himself challenged by the efforts of contemporary practitioners. the thoughts and words of the sonnets of daniel, drayton, watson, barnabe barnes, constable, and sidney were assimilated by shakespeare in his poems as consciously and with as little compunction as the plays and novels of contemporaries in his dramatic work. to drayton he was especially indebted. { } such resemblances as are visible between shakespeare's sonnets and those of petrarch or desportes seem due to his study of the english imitators of those sonnetteers. most of ronsard's nine hundred sonnets and many of his numerous odes were accessible to shakespeare in english adaptations, but there are a few signs that shakespeare had recourse to ronsard direct. adapted or imitated conceits are scattered over the whole of shakespeare's collection. they are usually manipulated with consummate skill, but shakespeare's indebtedness is not thereby obscured. shakespeare in many beautiful sonnets describes spring and summer, night and sleep and their influence on amorous emotion. such topics are common themes of the poetry of the renaissance, and they figure in shakespeare's pages clad in the identical livery that clothed them in the sonnets of petrarch, ronsard, de baif, and desportes, or of english disciples of the italian and french masters. { } in sonnet xxiv. shakespeare develops ronsard's conceit that his love's portrait is painted on his heart; and in sonnet cxxii. he repeats something of ronsard's phraseology in describing how his friend, who has just made him a gift of 'tables,' is 'character'd' in his brain. { a} sonnet xcix., which reproaches the flowers with stealing their charms from the features of his love, is adapted from constable's sonnet to diana (no. ix.), and may be matched in other collections. elsewhere shakespeare meditates on the theory that man is an amalgam of the four elements, earth, water, air, and fire (xl.-xlv.) { b} in all these he reproduces, with such embellishments as his genius dictated, phrases and sentiments of daniel, drayton, barnes, and watson, who imported them direct from france and italy. in two or three instances shakespeare showed his reader that he was engaged in a mere literary exercise by offering him alternative renderings of the same conventional conceit. in sonnets xlvi. and xlvii. he paraphrases twice over--appropriating many of watson's words--the unexhilarating notion that the eye and heart are in perpetual dispute as to which has the greater influence on lovers. { a} in the concluding sonnets, cliii. and cliv., he gives alternative versions of an apologue illustrating the potency of love which first figured in the greek anthology, had been translated into latin, and subsequently won the notice of english, french, and italian sonnetteers. { b} shakespeare's claims of immortality for his sonnets a borrowed conceit. in the numerous sonnets in which shakespeare boasted that his verse was so certain of immortality that it was capable of immortalising the person to whom it was addressed, he gave voice to no conviction that was peculiar to his mental constitution, to no involuntary exaltation of spirit, or spontaneous ebullition of feeling. he was merely proving that he could at will, and with superior effect, handle a theme that ronsard and desportes, emulating pindar, horace, ovid, and other classical poets, had lately made a commonplace of the poetry of europe. { a} sir philip sidney, in his 'apologie for poetrie' ( ) wrote that it was the common habit of poets to tell you that they will make you immortal by their verses. { b} 'men of great calling,' nash wrote in his 'pierce pennilesse,' , 'take it of merit to have their names eternised by poets.' { c} in the hands of elizabethan sonnetteers the 'eternising' faculty of their verse became a staple and indeed an inevitable topic. spenser wrote in his 'amoretti' ( , sonnet lxxv.) my verse your virtues rare shall eternize, and in the heavens write your glorious name. drayton and daniel developed the conceit with unblushing iteration. drayton, who spoke of his efforts as 'my immortal song' (_idea_, vi. ) and 'my world-out-wearing rhymes' (xliv. ), embodied the vaunt in such lines as: while thus my pen strives to eternize thee (_idea_ xliv. ). ensuing ages yet my rhymes shall cherish (_ib._ xliv. ). my name shall mount unto eternity (_ib._ xliv. ). all that i seek is to eternize thee (_ib._ xlvii. ). daniel was no less explicit this [_sc._ verse] may remain thy lasting monument (_delia_, xxxvii. ). thou mayst in after ages live esteemed, unburied in these lines (_ib._ xxxix. - ). these [_sc._ my verses] are the arks, the trophies i erect that fortify thy name against old age; and these [_sc._ verses] thy sacred virtues must protect against the dark and time's consuming rage (_ib._ l. - ). conceits in sonnets addressed to a woman. shakespeare, in his references to his 'eternal lines' (xviii. ) and in the assurances that he gives the subject of his addresses that the sonnets are, in daniel's exact phrase, his 'monument' (lxxxi. , cvii. ), was merely accommodating himself to the prevailing taste. characteristically in sonnet lv. he invested the topic with a splendour that was not approached by any other poet: { } not marble, nor the gilded monuments of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; { } but you shall shine more bright in these contents than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time. when wasteful war shall statues overturn, and broils root out the work of masonry, nor mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn the living record of your memory. 'gainst death and all-oblivious enmity shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room even in the eyes of all posterity that wear this world out to the ending doom. so, till the judgement that yourself arise, you live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. the imitative element is no less conspicuous in the sonnets that shakespeare distinctively addresses to a woman. in two of the latter (cxxxv.-vi.), where he quibbles over the fact of the identity of his own name of will with a lady's 'will' (the synonym in elizabethan english of both 'lust' and 'obstinacy'), he derisively challenges comparison with wire-drawn conceits of rival sonnetteers, especially of barnabe barnes, who had enlarged on his disdainful mistress's 'wills,' and had turned the word 'grace' to the same punning account as shakespeare turned the word 'will.' { a} similarly in sonnet cxxx. beginning my mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; coral is far more red than her lips' red . . . if hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head, { b} he satirises the conventional lists of precious stones, metals, and flowers, to which the sonnetteers likened their mistresses' features. the praise of 'blackness.' in two sonnets (cxxvii. and cxxxii.) shakespeare amiably notices the black complexion, hair, and eyes of his mistress, and expresses a preference for features of that hue over those of the fair hue which was, he tells us, more often associated in poetry with beauty. he commends the 'dark lady' for refusing to practise those arts by which other women of the day gave their hair and faces colours denied them by nature. here shakespeare repeats almost verbatim his own lines in 'love's labour's lost'(iv. iii. - ), where the heroine rosaline is described as 'black as ebony,' with 'brows decked in black,' and in 'mourning' for her fashionable sisters' indulgence in the disguising arts of the toilet. 'no face is fair that is not full so black,' exclaims rosaline's lover. but neither in the sonnets nor in the play can shakespeare's praise of 'blackness' claim the merit of being his own invention. sir philip sidney, in sonnet vii. of his 'astrophel and stella,' had anticipated it. the 'beams' of the eyes of sidney's mistress were 'wrapt in colour black' and wore 'this mourning weed,' so that whereas black seems beauty's contrary, she even in black doth make all beauties flow. { a} to his praise of 'blackness' in 'love's labour's lost' shakespeare appends a playful but caustic comment on the paradox that he detects in the conceit. { b} similarly, the sonnets, in which a dark complexion is pronounced to be a mark of beauty, are followed by others in which the poet argues in self-confutation that blackness of feature is hideous in a woman, and invariably indicates moral turpitude or blackness of heart. twice, in much the same language as had already served a like purpose in the play, does he mock his 'dark lady' with this uncomplimentary interpretation of dark-coloured hair and eyes. the sonnets of vituperation. the two sonnets, in which this view of 'blackness' is developed, form part of a series of twelve, which belongs to a special category of sonnetteering effort. in them shakespeare abandons the sugared sentiment which characterises most of his hundred and forty-two remaining sonnets. he grows vituperative and pours a volley of passionate abuse upon a woman whom he represents as disdaining his advances. the genuine anguish of a rejected lover often expresses itself in curses both loud and deep, but the mood of blinding wrath which the rejection of a lovesuit may rouse in a passionate nature does not seem from the internal evidence to be reflected genuinely in shakespeare's sonnets of vituperation. it was inherent in shakespeare's genius that he should import more dramatic intensity than any other poet into sonnets of a vituperative type; but there is also in his vituperative sonnets a declamatory parade of figurative extravagance which suggests that the emotion is feigned and that the poet is striking an attitude. he cannot have been in earnest in seeking to conciliate his disdainful mistress--a result at which the vituperative sonnets purport to aim--when he tells her that she is 'black as hell, as dark as night,' and with 'so foul a face' is 'the bay where all men ride.' gabriel harvey's 'amorous odious sonnet.' but external evidence is more conclusive as to the artificial construction of the vituperative sonnets. again a comparison of this series with the efforts of the modish sonnetteers assigns to it its true character. every sonnetteer of the sixteenth century, at some point in his career, devoted his energies to vituperation of a cruel siren. ronsard in his sonnets celebrated in language quite as furious as shakespeare's a 'fierce tigress,' a 'murderess,' a 'medusa.' barnabe barnes affected to contend in his sonnets with a female 'tyrant,' a 'medusa,' a 'rock.' 'women' (barnes laments) 'are by nature proud as devils.' the monotonous and artificial regularity with which the sonnetteers sounded the vituperative stop, whenever they had exhausted their notes of adulation, excited ridicule in both england and france. in shakespeare's early life the convention was wittily parodied by gabriel harvey in 'an amorous odious sonnet intituled the student's loove or hatrid, or both or neither, or what shall please the looving or hating reader, either in sport or earnest, to make of such contrary passions as are here discoursed.' { } after extolling the beauty and virtue of his mistress above that of aretino's angelica, petrarch's laura, catullus's lesbia, and eight other far-famed objects of poetic adoration, harvey suddenly denounces her in burlesque rhyme as 'a serpent in brood,' 'a poisonous toad,' 'a heart of marble,' and 'a stony mind as passionless as a block.' finally he tells her, if ever there were she-devils incarnate, they are altogether in thee incorporate. jodelle's 'contr' amours.' in france etienne jodelle, a professional sonnetteer although he is best known as a dramatist, made late in the second half of the sixteenth century an independent endeavour of like kind to stifle by means of parody the vogue of the vituperative sonnet. jodelle designed a collection of three hundred sonnets which he inscribed to 'hate of a woman,' and he appropriately entitled them 'contr' amours' in distinction from 'amours,' the term applied to sonnets in the honeyed vein. only seven of jodelle's 'contr' amours' are extant, but there is sufficient identity of tone between them and shakespeare's vituperative efforts almost to discover in shakespeare's invectives a spark of jodelle's satiric fire. { } the dark lady of shakespeare's 'sonnets' may therefore be relegated to the ranks of the creatures of his fancy. it is quite possible that he may have met in real life a dark-complexioned siren, and it is possible that he may have fared ill at her disdainful hands. but no such incident is needed to account for the presence of 'the dark lady' in the sonnets. it was the exacting conventions of the sonnetteering contagion, and not his personal experiences or emotions, that impelled shakespeare to give 'the dark lady' of his sonnets a poetic being. { } she has been compared, not very justly, with shakespeare's splendid creation of cleopatra in his play of 'antony and cleopatra.' from one point of view the same criticism may be passed on both. there is no greater and no less ground for seeking in shakespeare's personal environment the original of 'the dark lady' of his sonnets than for seeking there the original of his queen of egypt. ix--the patronage of the earl of southampton biographic fact in the 'dedicatory' sonnets. amid the borrowed conceits and poetic figures of shakespeare's sonnets there lurk suggestive references to the circumstances in his external life that attended their composition. if few can be safely regarded as autobiographic revelations of sentiment, many of them offer evidence of the relations in which he stood to a patron, and to the position that he sought to fill in the circle of that patron's literary retainers. twenty sonnets, which may for purposes of exposition be entitled 'dedicatory' sonnets, are addressed to one who is declared without periphrasis and without disguise to be a patron of the poet's verse (nos. xxiii., xxvi., xxxii., xxxvii., xxxviii., lxix., lxxvii.-lxxxvi., c., ci., cvi.) in one of these--sonnet lxxviii.--shakespeare asserted: so oft have i invoked thee for my muse and found such fair assistance in my verse as every alien pen hath got my use and under thee their poesy disperse. subsequently he regretfully pointed out how his patron's readiness to accept the homage of other poets seemed to be thrusting him from the enviable place of pre-eminence in his patron's esteem. the earl of southampton the poet's sole patron. shakespeare's biographer is under an obligation to attempt an identification of the persons whose relations with the poet are defined so explicitly. the problem presented by the patron is simple. shakespeare states unequivocally that he has no patron but one. sing [_sc._ o muse!] to the ear that doth thy lays esteem, and gives thy pen both skill and argument (c. - ). for to no other pass my verses tend than of your graces and your gifts to tell (ciii. - ). the earl of southampton, the patron of his narrative poems, is the only patron of shakespeare that is known to biographical research. no contemporary document or tradition gives the faintest suggestion that shakespeare was the friend or dependent of any other man of rank. a trustworthy tradition corroborates the testimony respecting shakespeare's close intimacy with the earl that is given in the dedicatory epistles of his 'venus and adonis' and 'lucrece', penned respectively in and . according to nicholas rowe, shakespeare's first adequate biographer, 'there is one instance so singular in its magnificence of this patron of shakespeare's that if i had not been assured that the story was handed down by sir william d'avenant, who was probably very well acquainted with his affairs, i should not venture to have inserted; that my lord southampton at one time gave him a thousand pounds to enable him to go through with a purchase which he heard he had a mind to. a bounty very great and very rare at any time.' there is no difficulty in detecting the lineaments of the earl of southampton in those of the man who is distinctively greeted in the sonnets as the poet's patron. three of the twenty 'dedicatory' sonnets merely translate into the language of poetry the expressions of devotion which had already done duty in the dedicatory epistle in prose that prefaces 'lucrece.' that epistle to southampton runs: the love { } i dedicate to your lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. the warrant i have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. what i have done is yours; what i have to do is yours; being part in all i have, devoted yours. were my worth greater, my duty would show greater; meantime, as it is, it is bound to your lordship, to whom i wish long life, still lengthened with all happiness. your lordship's in all duty, william shakespeare. sonnet xxvi. is a gorgeous rendering of these sentences:-- lord of my love, to whom in vassalage thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, to thee i send this written ambassage, to witness duty, not to show my wit: duty so great, which wit so poor as mine may make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, but that i hope some good conceit of thine in thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it; till whatsoever star that guides my moving, points on me graciously with fair aspect, and puts apparel on my tatter'd loving to show me worthy of thy sweet respect then may i dare to boast how i do love thee; till then not show my head where thou may'st prove me. { } the 'lucrece' epistle's intimation that the patron's love alone gives value to the poet's 'untutored lines' is repeated in sonnet xxxii., which doubtless reflected a moment of depression: if thou survive my well-contented day, when that churl death my bones with dust shall cover, and shalt by fortune once more re-survey these poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, compare them with the bettering of the time, and though they be outstripp'd by every pen, reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, exceeded by the height of happier men. o, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: 'had my friend's muse grown with this growing age, a dearer birth than this his love had brought, to march in ranks of better equipage; { } but since he died and poets better prove, theirs for their style i'll read, his for his love.' a like vein is pursued in greater exaltation of spirit in sonnet xxxviii.: how can my muse want subject to invent, while thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse thine own sweet argument, too excellent for every vulgar paper to rehearse? o give thyself the thanks, if aught in me worthy perusal stand against thy sight; for who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, when thou thyself dost give invention light? be thou the tenth muse, ten times more in worth than those old nine which rhymers invocate; and he that calls on thee, let him bring forth eternal numbers to outlive long date. if my slight muse do please these curious days, the pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise. the central conceit here so finely developed--that the patron may claim as his own handiwork the _protege's_ verse because he inspires it--belongs to the most conventional schemes of dedicatory adulation. when daniel, in , inscribed his volume of sonnets entitled 'delia' to the countess of pembroke, he played in the prefatory sonnet on the same note, and used in the concluding couplet almost the same words as shakespeare. daniel wrote: great patroness of these my humble rhymes, which thou from out thy greatness dost inspire . . . o leave [_i.e._ cease] not still to grace thy work in me . . . whereof the travail i may challenge mine, but yet the glory, madam, must be thine. elsewhere in the sonnets we hear fainter echoes of the 'lucrece' epistle. repeatedly does the sonnetteer renew the assurance given there that his patron is 'part of all' he has or is. frequently do we meet in the sonnets with such expressions as these:-- [i] by a _part of all_ your glory live (xxxvii. ); thou art _all the better part of me_ (xxxix. ); my spirit is thine, _the better part of me_ (lxxiv. ); while 'the love without end' which shakespeare had vowed to southampton in the light of day reappears in sonnets addressed to the youth as 'eternal love' (cviii. ), and a devotion 'what shall have no end' (cx. ). rivals in southampton's favour. the identification of the rival poets whose 'richly compiled' 'comments' of his patron's 'praise' excited shakespeare's jealousy is a more difficult inquiry than the identification of the patron. the rival poets with their 'precious phrase by all the muses filed' (lxxxv. ) must be sought among the writers who eulogised southampton and are known to have shared his patronage. the field of choice is not small. southampton from boyhood cultivated literature and the society of literary men. in no nobleman received so abundant a measure of adulation from the contemporary world of letters. { a} thomas nash justly described the earl, when dedicating to him his 'life of jack wilton' in , as 'a dear lover and cherisher as well of the lovers of poets as of the poets themselves.' nash addressed to him many affectionately phrased sonnets. the prolific sonnetteer barnabe barnes and the miscellaneous literary practitioner gervase markham confessed, respectively in and , yearnings for southampton's countenance in sonnets which glow hardly less ardently than shakespeare's with admiration for his personal charm. similarly john florio, the earl's italian tutor, who is traditionally reckoned among shakespeare's literary acquaintances, { b} wrote to southampton in , in his dedicatory epistle before his 'worlde of wordes' (an italian-english dictionary), 'as to me and many more, the glorious and gracious sunshine of your honour hath infused light and life.' shakespeare's fear of a rival poet. shakespeare magnanimously and modestly described that _protege_ of southampton, whom he deemed a specially dangerous rival, as an 'able' and a 'better' 'spirit,' 'a worthier pen,' a vessel of 'tall building and of goodly pride,' compared with whom he was himself 'a worthless boat.' he detected a touch of magic in the man's writing. his 'spirit,' shakespeare hyperbolically declared, had been 'by spirits taught to write above a mortal pitch,' and 'an affable familiar ghost' nightly gulled him with intelligence. shakespeare's dismay at the fascination exerted on his patron by 'the proud full sail of his [rival's] great verse' sealed for a time, he declared, the springs of his own invention (lxxxvi.) barnabe barnes probably the rival. there is no need to insist too curiously on the justice of shakespeare's laudation of the other poet's' powers. he was presumably a new-comer in the literary field who surprised older men of benevolent tendency into admiration by his promise rather than by his achievement. 'eloquence and courtesy,' wrote gabriel harvey at the time, 'are ever bountiful in the amplifying vein;' and writers of amiability, harvey adds, habitually blazoned the perfections that they hoped to see their young friends achieve, in language implying that they had already achieved them. all the conditions of the problem are satisfied by the rival's identification with the young poet and scholar barnabe barnes, a poetic panegyrist of southampton and a prolific sonnetteer, who was deemed by contemporary critics certain to prove a great poet. his first collection of sonnets, 'parthenophil and parthenophe,' with many odes and madrigals interspersed, was printed in ; and his second, 'a centurie of spiritual sonnets,' in . loud applause greeted the first book, which included numerous adaptations from the classical, italian, and french poets, and disclosed, among many crudities, some fascinating lyrics and at least one almost perfect sonnet (no. lxvi. 'ah, sweet content, where is thy mild abode?') thomas churchyard called barnes 'petrarch's scholar;' the learned gabriel harvey bade him 'go forward in maturity as he had begun in pregnancy,' and 'be the gallant poet, like spenser;' campion judged his verse to be 'heady and strong.' in a sonnet that barnes addressed in this earliest volume to the 'virtuous' earl of southampton he declared that his patron's eyes were 'the heavenly lamps that give the muses light,' and that his sole ambition was 'by flight to rise' to a height worthy of his patron's 'virtues.' shakespeare sorrowfully pointed out in sonnet lxxviii. that his lord's eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing, and heavy ignorance aloft to fly, have added feathers to the learned's wing, and given grace a double majesty; while in the following sonnet he asserted that the 'worthier pen' of his dreaded rival when lending his patron 'virtue' was guilty of plagiarism, for he 'stole that word' from his patron's 'behaviour.' the emphasis laid by barnes on the inspiration that he sought from southampton's 'gracious eyes' on the one hand, and his reiterated references to his patron's 'virtue' on the other, suggest that shakespeare in these sonnets directly alluded to barnes as his chief competitor in the hotly contested race for southampton's favour. in sonnet lxxxv. shakespeare declares that 'he cries amen to every hymn that able spirit [_i.e._ his rival] affords.' very few poets of the day in england followed ronsard's practice of bestowing the title of hymn on miscellaneous poems, but barnes twice applies the word to his poems of love. { a} when, too, shakespeare in sonnet lxxx. employs nautical metaphors to indicate the relations of himself and his rival with his patron-- my saucy bark inferior far to his . . . your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, he seems to write with an eye on barnes's identical choice of metaphor: my fancy's ship tossed here and there by these [_sc._ sorrow's floods] still floats in danger ranging to and fro. how fears my thoughts' swift pinnace thine hard rock! { b} other theories as to the rival's identity. gervase markham is equally emphatic in his sonnet to southampton on the potent influence of his patron's 'eyes,' which, he says, crown 'the most victorious pen'--a possible reference to shakespeare. nash's poetic praises of the earl are no less enthusiastic, and are of a finer literary temper than markham's. but shakespeare's description of his rival's literary work fits far less closely the verse of markham and nash than the verse of their fellow aspirant barnes. many critics argue that the numbing fear of his rival's genius and of its influence on his patron to which shakespeare confessed in the sonnets was more likely to be evoked by the work of george chapman than by that of any other contemporary poet. but chapman had produced no conspicuously 'great verse' till he began his translation of homer in ; and although he appended in to a complete edition of his translation a sonnet to southampton, it was couched in the coldest terms of formality, and it was one of a series of sixteen sonnets each addressed to a distinguished nobleman with whom the writer implies that he had no previous relations. { } drayton, ben jonson, and marston have also been identified by various critics with 'the rival poet,' but none of these shared southampton's bounty, nor are the terms which shakespeare applies to his rival's verse specially applicable to the productions of any of them. sonnets of friendship. many besides the 'dedicatory' sonnets are addressed to a handsome youth of wealth and rank, for whom the poet avows 'love,' in the elizabethan sense of friendship. { } although no specific reference is made outside the twenty 'dedicatory' sonnets to the youth as a literary patron, and the clues to his identity are elsewhere vaguer, there is good ground for the conclusion that the sonnets of disinterested love or friendship also have southampton for their subject. the sincerity of the poet's sentiment is often open to doubt in these poems, but they seem to illustrate a real intimacy subsisting between shakespeare and a young maecenas. extravagances of literary compliment. extravagant compliment--'gross painting' shakespeare calls it--was more conspicuous in the intercourse of patron and client during the last years of elizabeth's reign than in any other epoch. for this result the sovereign herself was in part responsible. contemporary schemes of literary compliment seemed infected by the feigned accents of amorous passion and false rhapsodies on her physical beauty with which men of letters servilely sought to satisfy the old queen's incurable greed of flattery. { } sir philip sidney described with admirable point the adulatory excesses to which less exalted patrons were habituated by literary dependents. he gave the warning that as soon as a man showed interest in poetry or its producers, poets straightway pronounced him 'to be most fair, most rich, most wise, most all.' 'you shall dwell upon superlatives . . . your soule shall be placed with dante's beatrice.' { a} the warmth of colouring which distinguishes many of the sonnets that shakespeare, under the guise of disinterested friendship, addressed to the youth can be matched at nearly all points in the adulation that patrons were in the habit of receiving from literary dependents in the style that sidney described. { b} patrons habitually addressed in affectionate terms. shakespeare assured his friend that he could never grow old (civ.), that the finest types of beauty and chivalry in mediaeval romance lived again in him (cvi.), that absence from him was misery, and that his affection for him was unalterable. hundreds of poets openly gave the like assurances to their patrons. southampton was only one of a crowd of maecenases whose panegyrists, writing without concealment in their own names, credited them with every perfection of mind and body, and 'placed them,' in sidney's apt phrase, 'with dante's "beatrice."' illustrations of the practice abound. matthew roydon wrote of his patron, sir philip sidney: his personage seemed most divine, a thousand graces one might count upon his lovely cheerful eyne. to heare him speak and sweetly smile you were in paradise the while. edmund spenser in a fine sonnet told his patron, admiral lord charles howard, that 'his good personage and noble deeds' made him the pattern to the present age of the old heroes of whom 'the antique poets' were 'wont so much to sing.' this compliment, which shakespeare turns to splendid account in sonnet cvi., recurs constantly in contemporary sonnets of adulation. { a} ben jonson apostrophised the earl of desmond as 'my best-best lov'd.' campion told lord walden, the earl of suffolk's undistinguished heir, that although his muse sought to express his love, 'the admired virtues' of the patron's youth bred such despairing to his daunted muse that it could scarcely utter naked truth. { b} dr. john donne includes among his 'verse letters' to patrons and patronesses several sonnets of similar temper, one of which, acknowledging a letter of news from a patron abroad, concludes thus: and now thy alms is given, thy letter's read, the body risen again, the which was dead, and thy poor starveling bountifully fed. after this banquet my soul doth say grace, and praise thee for it and zealously embrace thy love, though i think thy love in this case to be as gluttons', which say 'midst their meat they love that best of which they most do eat. { } the tone of yearning for a man's affection is sounded by donne and campion almost as plaintively in their sonnets to patrons as it was sounded by shakespeare. there is nothing, therefore, in the vocabulary of affection which shakespeare employed in his sonnets of friendship to conflict with the theory that they were inscribed to a literary patron with whom his intimacy was of the kind normally subsisting at the time between literary clients and their patrons. direct references to southampton in the sonnets of friendship. we know shakespeare had only one literary patron, the earl of southampton, and the view that that nobleman is the hero of the sonnets of 'friendship' is strongly corroborated by such definite details as can be deduced from the vague eulogies in those poems of the youth's gifts and graces. every compliment, in fact, paid by shakespeare to the youth, whether it be vaguely or definitely phrased, applies to southampton without the least straining of the words. in real life beauty, birth, wealth, and wit sat 'crowned' in the earl, whom poets acclaimed the handsomest of elizabethan courtiers, as plainly as in the hero of the poet's verse. southampton has left in his correspondence ample proofs of his literary learning and taste, and, like the hero of the sonnets, was 'as fair in knowledge as in hue.' the opening sequence of seventeen sonnets, in which a youth of rank and wealth is admonished to marry and beget a son so that 'his fair house' may not fall into decay, can only have been addressed to a young peer like southampton, who was as yet unmarried, had vast possessions, and was the sole male representative of his family. the sonnetteer's exclamation, 'you had a father, let your son say so,' had pertinence to southampton at any period between his father's death in his boyhood and the close of his bachelorhood in . to no other peer of the day are the words exactly applicable. the 'lascivious comment' on his 'wanton sport' which pursues the young friend through the sonnets, and is so adroitly contrived as to add point to the picture of his fascinating youth and beauty, obviously associates itself with the reputation for sensual indulgence that southampton acquired both at court and, according to nash, among men of letters. { } his youthfulness. there is no force in the objection that the young man of the sonnets of 'friendship' must have been another than southampton because the terms in which he is often addressed imply extreme youth. in , a date to which i refer most of the sonnets southampton was barely twenty-one, and the young man had obviously reached manhood. in sonnet civ. shakespeare notes that the first meeting between him and his friend took place three years before that poem was written, so that, if the words are to be taken literally, the poet may have at times embodied reminiscences of southampton when he was only seventeen or eighteen. { a} but shakespeare, already worn in worldly experience, passed his thirtieth birthday in , and he probably tended, when on the threshold of middle life, to exaggerate the youthfulness of the nobleman almost ten years his junior, who even later impressed his acquaintances by his boyish appearance and disposition. { b} 'young' was the epithet invariably applied to southampton by all who knew anything of him even when he was twenty-eight. in sir robert cecil referred to him as the 'poor young earl.' the evidence of portraits. but the most striking evidence of the identity of the youth of the sonnets of 'friendship' with southampton is found in the likeness of feature and complexion which characterises the poet's description of the youth's outward appearance and the extant pictures of southampton as a young man. shakespeare's many references to his youth's 'painted counterfeit' (xvi., xxiv., xlvii., lxvii.) suggest that his hero often sat for his portrait. southampton's countenance survives in probably more canvases than that of any of his contemporaries. at least fourteen extant portraits have been identified on good authority--nine paintings, three miniatures (two by peter oliver and one by isaac oliver), and two contemporary prints. { } most of these, it is true, portray their subject in middle age, when the roses of youth had faded, and they contribute nothing to the present argument. but the two portraits that are now at welbeck, the property of the duke of portland, give all the information that can be desired of southampton's aspect 'in his youthful morn.' { } one of these pictures represents the earl at twenty-one, and the other at twenty-five or twenty-six. the earlier portrait, which is reproduced on the opposite page, shows a young man resplendently attired. his doublet is of white satin; a broad collar, edged with lace, half covers a pointed gorget of red leather, embroidered with silver thread; the white trunks and knee-breeches are laced with gold; the sword-belt, embroidered in red and gold, is decorated at intervals with white silk bows; the hilt of the rapier is overlaid with gold; purple garters, embroidered in silver thread, fasten the white stockings below the knee. light body armour, richly damascened, lies on the ground to the right of the figure; and a white-plumed helmet stands to the left on a table covered with a cloth of purple velvet embroidered in gold. such gorgeous raiment suggests that its wearer bestowed much attention on his personal equipment. but the head is more interesting than the body. the eyes are blue, the cheeks pink, the complexion clear, and the expression sedate; rings are in the ears; beard and moustache are at an incipient stage, and are of the same, bright auburn hue as the hair in a picture of southampton's mother that is also at welbeck. { a} but, however scanty is the down on the youth's cheek, the hair on his head is luxuriant. it is worn very long, and falls over and below the shoulder. the colour is now of walnut, but was originally of lighter tint. [picture: henry wriothesley] the portrait depicting southampton five or six years later shows him in prison, to which he was committed after his secret marriage in . a cat and a book in a jewelled binding are on a desk at his right hand. here the hair falls over both his shoulders in even greater profusion, and is distinctly blonde. the beard and thin upturned moustache are of brighter auburn and fuller than before, although still slight. the blue eyes and colouring of the cheeks show signs of ill-health, but differ little from those features in the earlier portrait. from either of the two welbeck portraits of southampton might shakespeare have drawn his picture of the youth in the sonnets. many times does he tell us that the youth is fair in complexion, and that his eyes are fair. in sonnet lxviii., when he points to the youth's face as a map of what beauty was 'without all ornament, itself and true'--before fashion sanctioned the use of artificial 'golden tresses'--there can be little doubt that he had in mind the wealth of locks that fell about southampton's neck. { b} sonnet cvii. the last of the series. a few only of the sonnets that shakespeare addressed to the youth can be allotted to a date subsequent to ; only two bear on the surface signs of a later composition. in sonnet lxx. the poet no longer credits his hero with juvenile wantonness, but with a 'pure, unstained prime,' which has 'passed by the ambush of young days.' sonnet cvii., apparently the last of the series, was penned almost a decade after the mass of its companions, for it makes references that cannot be mistaken to three events that took place in --to queen elizabeth's death, to the accession of james i, and to the release of the earl of southampton, who had been in prison since he was convicted in of complicity in the rebellion of the earl of essex. the first two events are thus described: the mortal moon hath her eclipse endured and the sad augurs mock their own presage; incertainties now crown themselves assured and peace proclaims olives of endless age. allusion to elizabeth's death. it is in almost identical phrase that every pen in the spring of was felicitating the nation on the unexpected turn of events, by which elizabeth's crown had passed, without civil war, to the scottish king, and thus the revolution that had been foretold as the inevitable consequence of elizabeth's demise was happily averted. cynthia (_i.e._ the moon) was the queen's recognised poetic appellation. it is thus that she figures in the verse of barnfield, spenser, fulke greville, and ralegh, and her elegists involuntarily followed the same fashion. 'fair cynthia's dead' sang one. luna's extinct; and now beholde the sunne whose beames soake up the moysture of all teares, wrote henry petowe in his 'a fewe aprill drops showered on the hearse of dead eliza,' . there was hardly a verse-writer who mourned her loss that did not typify it, moreover, as the eclipse of a heavenly body. one poet asserted that death 'veiled her glory in a cloud of night.' another argued: 'naught can eclipse her light, but that her star will shine in darkest night.' a third varied the formula thus: when winter had cast off her weed our sun eclipsed did set. oh! light most fair. { a} at the same time james was constantly said to have entered on his inheritance 'not with an olive branch in his hand, but with a whole forest of olives round about him, for he brought not peace to this kingdom alone' but to all europe. { b} allusions to southampton's release from prison. 'the drops of this most balmy time,' in this same sonnet, cvii., is an echo of another current strain of fancy. james came to england in a springtide of rarely rivalled clemency, which was reckoned of the happiest augury. 'all things look fresh,' one poet sang, 'to greet his excellence.' 'the air, the seasons, and the earth' were represented as in sympathy with the general joy in 'this sweetest of all sweet springs.' one source of grief alone was acknowledged: southampton was still a prisoner in the tower, 'supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.' all men, wrote manningham, the diarist, on the day following the queen's death, wished him at liberty. { a} the wish was fulfilled quickly. on april , , his prison gates were opened by 'a warrant from the king.' so bountiful a beginning of the new era, wrote john chamberlain to dudley carleton two days later, 'raised all men's spirits . . . and the very poets with their idle pamphlets promised themselves' great things. { b} samuel daniel and john davies celebrated southampton's release in buoyant verse. { c} it is improbable that shakespeare remained silent. 'my love looks fresh,' he wrote in the concluding lines of sonnet cvii., and he repeated the conventional promise that he had so often made before, that his friend should live in his 'poor rhyme,' 'when tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.' it is impossible to resist the inference that shakespeare thus saluted his patron on the close of his days of tribulation. shakespeare's genius had then won for him a public reputation that rendered him independent of any private patron's favour, and he made no further reference in his writings to the patronage that southampton had extended to him in earlier years. but the terms in which he greeted his former protector for the last time in verse justify the belief that, during his remaining thirteen years of life, the poet cultivated friendly relations with the earl of southampton, and was mindful to the last of the encouragement that the young peer offered him while he was still on the threshold of the temple of fame. x--the supposed story of intrigue in the sonnets it is hardly possible to doubt that had shakespeare, who was more prolific in invention than any other poet, poured out in his sonnets his personal passions and emotions, he would have been carried by his imagination, at every stage, far beyond the beaten tracks of the conventional sonnetteers of his day. the imitative element in his sonnets is large enough to refute the assertion that in them as a whole he sought to 'unlock his heart.' it is likely enough that beneath all the conventional adulation bestowed by shakespeare on southampton there lay a genuine affection, but his sonnets to the earl were no involuntary ebullitions of a devoted and disinterested friendship; they were celebrations of a patron's favour in the terminology--often raised by shakespeare's genius to the loftiest heights of poetry--that was invariably consecrated to such a purpose by a current literary convention. very few of shakespeare's 'sugared sonnets' have a substantial right to be regarded as untutored cries of the soul. it is true that the sonnets in which the writer reproaches himself with sin, or gives expression to a sense of melancholy, offer at times a convincing illusion of autobiographic confessions; and it is just possible that they stand apart from the rest, and reveal the writer's inner consciousness, in which case they are not to be matched in any other of shakespeare's literary compositions. but they may be, on the other hand, merely literary meditations, conceived by the greatest of dramatists, on infirmities incident to all human nature, and only attempted after the cue had been given by rival sonnetteers. at any rate, their energetic lines are often adapted from the less forcible and less coherent utterances of contemporary poets, and the themes are common to almost all elizabethan collections of sonnets. { } shakespeare's noble sonnet on the ravages of lust (cxxix.), for example, treats with marvellous force and insight a stereotyped theme of sonnetteers, and it may have owed its whole existence to sir philip sidney's sonnet on 'desire.' { a} the youth's relations with the poet's mistress. only in one group, composed of six sonnets scattered through the collection, is there traceable a strand of wholly original sentiment, not to be readily defined and boldly projecting from the web into which it is wrought. this series of six sonnets deals with a love adventure of no normal type. sonnet cxliv. opens with the lines: two loves i have of comfort and despair which like two angels do suggest (_i.e._ tempt) me still: the better angel is a man right fair, the worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. { b} the woman, the sonnetteer continues, has corrupted the man and has drawn him from his 'side.' five other sonnets treat the same theme. in three addressed to the man (xl., xli., and xlii.) the poet mildly reproaches his youthful friend for having sought and won the favours of a woman whom he himself loved 'dearly,' but the trespass is forgiven on account of the friend's youth and beauty. in the two remaining sonnets shakespeare addresses the woman (cxxxiii. and cxxxiv.), and he rebukes her for having enslaved not only himself but 'his next self'--his friend. shakespeare, in his denunciation elsewhere of a mistress's disdain of his advances, assigns her blindness, like all the professional sonnetteers, to no better defined cause than the perversity and depravity of womankind. in these six sonnets alone does he categorically assign his mistress's alienation to the fascinations of a dear friend or hint at such a cause for his mistress's infidelity. the definite element of intrigue that is developed here is not found anywhere else in the range of elizabethan sonnet-literature. the character of the innovation and its treatment seem only capable of explanation by regarding the topic as a reflection of shakespeare's personal experience. but how far he is sincere in his accounts of his sorrow in yielding his mistress to his friend in order to retain the friendship of the latter must be decided by each reader for himself. if all the words be taken literally, there is disclosed an act of self-sacrifice that it is difficult to parallel or explain. but it remains very doubtful if the affair does not rightly belong to the annals of gallantry. the sonnetteer's complacent condonation of the young man's offence chiefly suggests the deference that was essential to the maintenance by a dependent of peaceful relations with a self-willed and self-indulgent patron. southampton's sportive and lascivious temperament might easily impel him to divert to himself the attention of an attractive woman by whom he saw that his poet was fascinated, and he was unlikely to tolerate any outspoken protest on the part of his _protege_. there is no clue to the lady's identity, and speculation on the topic is useless. she may have given shakespeare hints for his pictures of the 'dark lady,' but he treats that lady's obduracy conventionally, and his vituperation of her sheds no light on the personal history of the mistress who left him for his friend. 'willobie his avisa.' the emotions roused in shakespeare by the episode, even if potent at the moment, were not likely to be deep-seated or enduring. and it is possible that a half-jesting reference, which would deprive shakespeare's amorous adventure of serious import, was made to it by a literary comrade in a poem that was licensed for publication on september , , and was published immediately under the title of 'willobie his avisa, or the true picture of a modest maid and of a chaste and constant wife.' { } in this volume, which mainly consists of seventy-two cantos in varying numbers of six-line stanzas, the chaste heroine, avisa, holds converse--in the opening section as a maid, and in the later section as a wife--with a series of passionate adorers. in every case she firmly repulses their advances. midway through the book its alleged author--henry willobie--is introduced in his own person as an ardent admirer, and the last twenty-nine of the cantos rehearse his woes and avisa's obduracy. to this section there is prefixed an argument in prose (canto xliv.) it is there stated that willobie, 'being suddenly affected with the contagion of a fantastical wit at the first sight of avisa, pineth a while in secret grief. at length, not able any longer to endure the burning heat of so fervent a humour, [he] bewrayeth the secrecy of his disease unto his familiar friend _w. s._, _who not long before had tried the courtesy of the like passion and was now newly recovered of the like infection_. yet [w. s.], finding his friend let blood in the same vein, took pleasure for a time to see him bleed, and instead of stopping the issue, he enlargeth the wound with the sharp razor of willing conceit,' encouraging willobie to believe that avisa would ultimately yield 'with pains, diligence, and some cost in time.' 'the miserable comforter' [w. s.], the passage continues, was moved to comfort his friend 'with an impossibility,' for one of two reasons. either 'he now would secretly laugh at his friend's folly' because he 'had given occasion not long before unto others to laugh at his own.' or 'he would see whether another could play his part better than himself, and, in viewing after the course of this loving comedy,' would 'see whether it would sort to a happier end for this new actor than it did for _the old player_. but at length this comedy was like to have grown to a tragedy by the weak and feeble estate that h. w. was brought unto,' owing to avisa's unflinching rectitude. happily, 'time and necessity' effected a cure. in two succeeding cantos in verse w. s. is introduced in dialogue with willobie, and he gives him, in _oratio recta_, light-hearted and mocking counsel which willobie accepts with results disastrous to his mental health. identity of initials, on which the theory of shakespeare's identity with h. w.'s unfeeling adviser mainly rests, is not a strong foundation, { } and doubt is justifiable as to whether the story of 'avisa' and her lovers is not fictitious. in a preface signed hadrian dorell, the writer, after mentioning that the alleged author (willobie) was dead, discusses somewhat enigmatically whether or no the work is 'a poetical fiction.' in a new edition of the same editor decides the question in the affirmative. but dorell, while making this admission, leaves untouched the curious episode of 'w. s.' the mention of 'w. s.' as 'the old player,' and the employment of theatrical imagery in discussing his relations with willobie, must be coupled with the fact that shakespeare, at a date when mentions of him in print were rare, was eulogised by name as the author of 'lucrece' in some prefatory verses to the volume. from such considerations the theory of 'w. s.'s' identity with willobie's acquaintance acquires substance. if we assume that it was shakespeare who took a roguish delight in watching his friend willobie suffer the disdain of 'chaste avisa' because he had 'newly recovered' from the effects of a like experience, it is clear that the theft of shakespeare's mistress by another friend did not cause him deep or lasting distress. the allusions that were presumably made to the episode by the author of 'avisa' bring it, in fact, nearer the confines of comedy than of tragedy. summary of conclusions respecting the sonnets. the processes of construction which are discernible in shakespeare's sonnets are thus seen to be identical with those that are discernible in the rest of his literary work. they present one more proof of his punctilious regard for the demands of public taste, and of his marvellous genius and skill in adapting and transmuting for his own purposes the labours of other workers in the field that for the moment engaged his attention. most of shakespeare's sonnets were produced in under the incitement of that freakish rage for sonnetteering which, taking its rise in italy and sweeping over france on its way to england, absorbed for some half-dozen years in this country a greater volume of literary energy than has been applied to sonnetteering within the same space of time here or elsewhere before or since. the thousands of sonnets that were circulated in england between and were of every literary quality, from sublimity to inanity, and they illustrated in form and topic every known phase of sonnetteering activity. shakespeare's collection, which was put together at haphazard and published surreptitiously many years after the poems were written, was a medley, at times reaching heights of literary excellence that none other scaled, but as a whole reflecting the varied features of the sonnetteering vogue. apostrophes to metaphysical abstractions, vivid picturings of the beauties of nature, adulation of a patron, idealisation of a _protege's_ regard for a nobleman in the figurative language of amorous passion, amiable compliments on a woman's hair or touch on the virginals, and vehement denunciation of the falseness and frailty of womankind--all appear as frequently in contemporary collections of sonnets as in shakespeare's. he borrows very many of his competitors' words and thoughts, but he so fused them with his fancy as often to transfigure them. genuine emotion or the writer's personal experience very rarely inspired the elizabethan sonnet, and shakespeare's sonnets proved no exception to the rule. a personal note may have escaped him involuntarily in the sonnets in which he gives voice to a sense of melancholy and self-remorse, but his dramatic instinct never slept, and there is no proof that he is doing more in those sonnets than produce dramatically the illusion of a personal confession. only in one scattered series of six sonnets, where he introduced a topic, unknown to other sonnetteers, of a lover's supersession by his friend in a mistress's graces, does he seem to show independence of his comrades and draw directly on an incident in his own life, but even there the emotion is wanting in seriousness. the sole biographical inference deducible from the sonnets is that at one time in his career shakespeare disdained no weapon of flattery in an endeavour to monopolise the bountiful patronage of a young man of rank. external evidence agrees with internal evidence in identifying the belauded patron with the earl of southampton, and the real value to a biographer of shakespeare's sonnets is the corroboration they offer of the ancient tradition that the earl of southampton, to whom his two narrative poems were openly dedicated, gave shakespeare at an early period of his literary career help and encouragement, which entitles the earl to a place in the poet's biography resembling that filled by the duke alfonso d'este in the biography of ariosto, or like that filled by margaret, duchess of savoy, in the biography of ronsard. xi--the development of dramatic power 'midsummer night's dream.' but, all the while that shakespeare was fancifully assuring his patron [how] to no other pass my verses tend than of your graces and your gifts to tell, his dramatic work was steadily advancing. to the winter season of probably belongs 'midsummer night's dream.' { } the comedy may well have been written to celebrate a marriage--perhaps the marriage of the universal patroness of poets, lucy harington, to edward russell, third earl of bedford, on december , ; or that of william stanley, earl of derby, at greenwich on january , - . the elaborate compliment to the queen, 'a fair vestal throned by the west' (ii. i. _seq._), was at once an acknowledgment of past marks of royal favour and an invitation for their extension to the future. oberon's fanciful description (ii. ii. - ) of the spot where he saw the little western flower called 'love-in-idleness' that he bids puck fetch for him, has been interpreted as a reminiscence of one of the scenic pageants with which the earl of leicester entertained queen elizabeth on her visit to kenilworth in . { } the whole play is in the airiest and most graceful vein of comedy. hints for the story can be traced to a variety of sources--to chaucer's 'knight's tale,' to plutarch's 'life of theseus,' to ovid's 'metamorphoses' (bk. iv.), and to the story of oberon, the fairy-king, in the french mediaeval romance of 'huon of bordeaux,' of which an english translation by lord berners was first printed in . the influence of john lyly is perceptible in the raillery in which both mortals and immortals indulge. in the humorous presentation of the play of 'pyramus and thisbe' by the 'rude mechanicals' of athens, shakespeare improved upon a theme which he had already employed in 'love's labour's lost.' but the final scheme of the 'midsummer night's dream' is of the author's freshest invention, and by endowing--practically for the first time in literature--the phantoms of the fairy world with a genuine and a sustained dramatic interest, shakespeare may be said to have conquered a new realm for art. 'all's well.' more sombre topics engaged him in the comedy of 'all's well that ends well,' which may be tentatively assigned to . meres, writing three years later, attributed to shakespeare a piece called 'love's labour's won.' this title, which is not otherwise known, may well be applied to 'all's well.' 'the taming of the shrew,' which has also been identified with 'love's labour's won,' has far slighter claim to the designation. the plot of 'all's well,' like that of 'romeo and juliet,' was drawn from painter's 'palace of pleasure' (no. xxxviii.) the original source is boccaccio's 'decamerone' (giorn. iii. nov. ). shakespeare, after his wont, grafted on the touching story of helena's love for the unworthy bertram the comic characters of the braggart parolles, the pompous lafeu, and a clown (lavache) less witty than his compeers. another original creation, bertram's mother, countess of roussillon, is a charming portrait of old age. in frequency of rhyme and other metrical characteristics the piece closely resembles 'the two gentlemen,' but the characterisation betrays far greater power, and there are fewer conceits or crudities of style. the pathetic element predominates. the heroine helena, whose 'pangs of despised love' are expressed with touching tenderness, ranks with the greatest of shakespeare's female creations. 'taming of the shrew.' 'the taming of the shrew'--which, like 'all's well,' was first printed in the folio--was probably composed soon after the completion of that solemn comedy. it is a revision of an old play on lines somewhat differing from those which shakespeare had followed previously. from 'the taming of a shrew,' a comedy first published in , { } shakespeare drew the induction and the scenes in which the hero petruchio conquers catherine the shrew. he first infused into them the genuine spirit of comedy. but while following the old play in its general outlines, shakespeare's revised version added an entirely new underplot--the story of bianca and her lovers, which owes something to the 'supposes' of george gascoigne, an adaptation of ariosto's comedy called 'i suppositi.' evidence of style--the liberal introduction of tags of latin and the exceptional beat of the doggerel--makes it difficult to allot the bianca scenes to shakespeare; those scenes were probably due to a coadjutor. stratford allusions in the induction. the induction to 'the taming of the shrew' has a direct bearing on shakespeare's biography, for the poet admits into it a number of literal references to stratford and his native county. such personalities are rare in shakespeare's plays, and can only be paralleled in two of slightly later date--the 'second part of henry iv' and the 'merry wives of windsor.' all these local allusions may well be attributed to such a renewal of shakespeare's personal relations with the town, as is indicated by external facts in his history of the same period. in the induction the tinker, christopher sly, describes himself as 'old sly's son of burton heath.' burton heath is barton-on-the-heath, the home of shakespeare's aunt, edmund lambert's wife, and of her sons. the tinker in like vein confesses that he has run up a score with marian hacket, the fat alewife of wincot. { } the references to wincot and the hackets are singularly precise. the name of the maid of the inn is given as cicely hacket, and the alehouse is described in the stage direction as 'on a heath.' wincot. wincot was the familiar designation of three small warwickshire villages, and a good claim has been set up on behalf of each to be the scene of sly's drunken exploits. there is a very small hamlet named wincot within four miles of stratford now consisting of a single farmhouse which was once an elizabethan mansion; it is situated on what was doubtless in shakespeare's day, before the land there was enclosed, an open heath. this wincot forms part of the parish of quinton, where, according to the parochial registers, a hacket family resided in shakespeare's day. on november , , 'sara hacket, the daughter of robert hacket,' was baptised in quinton church. { } yet by warwickshire contemporaries the wincot of 'the taming of the shrew' was unhesitatingly identified with wilnecote, near tamworth, on the staffordshire border of warwickshire, at some distance from stratford. that village, whose name was pronounced 'wincot,' was celebrated for its ale in the seventeenth century, a distinction which is not shown by contemporary evidence to have belonged to any place of like name. the warwickshire poet, sir aston cokain, within half a century of the production of shakespeare's 'taming of the shrew,' addressed to 'mr. clement fisher of wincott' (a well-known resident at wilnecote) verses which begin _shakspeare_ your _wincot_ ale hath much renowned, that fox'd a beggar so (by chance was found sleeping) that there needed not many a word to make him to believe he was a lord. in the succeeding lines the writer promises to visit 'wincot' (_i.e._ wilnecote) to drink such ale as _shakspeare_ fancies did put kit sly into such lordly trances. it is therefore probable that shakespeare consciously invested the home of kit sly and of kit's hostess with characteristics of wilnecote as well as of the hamlet near stratford. wilmcote, the native place of shakespeare's mother, is also said to have been popularly pronounced 'wincot.' a tradition which was first recorded by capell as late as in his notes to the 'taming of the shrew' (p. ) is to the effect that shakespeare often visited an inn at 'wincot' to enjoy the society of a 'fool who belonged to a neighbouring mill,' and the wincot of this story is, we are told, locally associated with the village of wilmcote. but the links that connect shakespeare's tinker with wilmcote are far slighter than those which connect him with wincot and wilnecote. the mention of kit sly's tavern comrades-- stephen sly and old john naps of greece, and peter turf and henry pimpernell-- was in all likelihood a reminiscence of contemporary warwickshire life as literal as the name of the hamlet where the drunkard dwelt. there was a genuine stephen sly who was in the dramatist's day a self-assertive citizen of stratford; and 'greece,' whence 'old john naps' derived his cognomen, is an obvious misreading of greet, a hamlet by winchcombe in gloucestershire, not far removed from shakespeare's native town. 'henry iv.' in shakespeare turned once more to english history. from holinshed's 'chronicle,' and from a valueless but very popular piece, 'the famous victories of henry v,' which was repeatedly acted between and , { } he worked up with splendid energy two plays on the reign of henry iv. they form one continuous whole, but are known respectively as parts i. and ii. of 'henry iv.' the 'second part of henry iv' is almost as rich as the induction to 'the taming of the shrew' in direct references to persons and districts familiar to shakespeare. two amusing scenes pass at the house of justice shallow in gloucestershire, a county which touched the boundaries of stratford (iii. ii. and v. i.) when, in the second of these scenes, the justice's factotum, davy, asked his master 'to countenance william visor of woncot { a} against clement perkes of the hill,' the local references are unmistakable. woodmancote, where the family of visor or vizard has flourished since the sixteenth century, is still pronounced woncot. the adjoining stinchcombe hill (still familiarly known to natives as 'the hill') was in the sixteenth century the home of the family of perkes. very precise too are the allusions to the region of the cotswold hills, which were easily accessible from stratford. 'will squele, a cotswold man,' is noticed as one of shallow's friends in youth (iii. ii. ); and when shallow's servant davy receives his master's instructions to sow 'the headland' 'with red wheat,' in the early autumn, there is an obvious reference to the custom almost peculiar to the cotswolds of sowing 'red lammas' wheat at an unusually early season of the agricultural year. { b} the kingly hero of the two plays of 'henry iv' had figured as a spirited young man in 'richard ii;' he was now represented as weighed down by care and age. with him are contrasted (in part i.) his impetuous and ambitious subject hotspur and (in both parts) his son and heir prince hal, whose boisterous disposition drives him from court to seek adventures among the haunters of taverns. hotspur is a vivid and fascinating portrait of a hot-headed soldier, courageous to the point of rashness, and sacrificing his life to his impetuous sense of honour. prince hal, despite his vagaries, is endowed by the dramatist with far more self-control and common sense. falstaff. on the first, as on every subsequent, production of 'henry iv' the main public interest was concentrated neither on the king nor on his son, nor on hotspur, but on the chief of prince hal's riotous companions. at the outset the propriety of that great creation was questioned on a political or historical ground of doubtful relevance. shakespeare in both parts of 'henry iv' originally named the chief of the prince's associates after sir john oldcastle, a character in the old play. but henry brooke, eighth lord cobham, who succeeded to the title early in , and claimed descent from the historical sir john oldcastle, the lollard leader, raised objection; and when the first part of the play was printed by the acting-company's authority in ('newly corrected' in ), shakespeare bestowed on prince hal's tun-bellied follower the new and deathless name of falstaff. a trustworthy edition of the second part of 'henry iv' also appeared with falstaff's name substituted for that of oldcastle in . there the epilogue expressly denied that falstaff had any characteristic in common with the martyr oldcastle. oldcastle died a martyr, and this is not the man. but the substitution of the name 'falstaff' did not pass without protest. it hazily recalled sir john fastolf, an historical warrior who had already figured in 'henry vi' and was owner at one time of the boar's head tavern in southwark; according to traditional stage directions, { } the prince and his companions in 'henry iv' frequent the boar's head, eastcheap. fuller in his 'worthies,' first published in , while expressing satisfaction that shakespeare had 'put out' of the play sir john oldcastle, was eloquent in his avowal of regret that 'sir john fastolf' was 'put in,' on the ground that it was making overbold with a great warrior's memory to make him a 'thrasonical puff and emblem of mock-valour.' the offending introduction and withdrawal of oldcastle's name left a curious mark on literary history. humbler dramatists (munday, wilson, drayton, and hathaway), seeking to profit by the attention drawn by shakespeare to the historical oldcastle, produced a poor dramatic version of oldcastle's genuine history; and of two editions of 'sir john oldcastle' published in , one printed for t[homas] p[avier] was impudently described on the title-page as by shakespeare. but it is not the historical traditions which are connected with falstaff that give him his perennial attraction. it is the personality that owes nothing to history with which shakespeare's imaginative power clothed him. the knight's unfettered indulgence in sensual pleasures, his exuberant mendacity, and his love of his own ease are purged of offence by his colossal wit and jollity, while the contrast between his old age and his unreverend way of life supplies that tinge of melancholy which is inseparable from the highest manifestations of humour. the elizabethan public recognised the triumphant success of the effort, and many of falstaff's telling phrases, with the names of his foils, justice shallow and silence, at once took root in popular speech. shakespeare's purely comic power culminated in falstaff; he may be claimed as the most humorous figure in literature. 'merry wives of windsor.' in all probability 'the merry wives of windsor,' a comedy inclining to farce, and unqualified by any pathetic interest, followed close upon 'henry iv.' in the epilogue to the 'second part of henry iv' shakespeare had written: 'if you be not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story with sir john in it . . . where for anything i know falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already a' be killed with your hard opinions.' rowe asserts that 'queen elizabeth was so well pleased with that admirable character of falstaff in the two parts of "henry iv" that she commanded him to continue it for one play more, and to show him in love.' dennis, in the dedication of 'the comical gallant' ( ), noted that the 'merry wives' was written at the queen's 'command and by her direction; and she was so eager to see it acted that she commanded it to be finished in fourteen days, and was afterwards, as tradition tells us, very well pleased with the representation.' in his 'letters' ( , p. ) dennis reduces the period of composition to ten days--'a prodigious thing,' added gildon, { a} 'where all is so well contrived and carried on without the least confusion.' the localisation of the scene at windsor, and the complimentary references to windsor castle, corroborate the tradition that the comedy was prepared to meet a royal command. an imperfect draft of the play was printed by thomas creede in ; { b} the folio of first supplied a complete version. the plot was probably suggested by an italian novel. a tale from straparola's 'notti' (iv. ), of which an adaptation figured in the miscellany of novels called tarleton's 'newes out of purgatorie' ( ), another italian tale from the 'pecorone' of ser giovanni fiorentino (i. ), and a third romance, the fishwife's tale of brainford in the collection of stories called 'westward for smelts,' { c} supply incidents distantly resembling episodes in the play. nowhere has shakespeare so vividly reflected the bluff temper of contemporary middle-class society. the presentment of the buoyant domestic life of an elizabethan country town bears distinct impress of shakespeare's own experience. again, there are literal references to the neighbourhood of stratford. justice shallow, whose coat-of-arms is described as consisting of 'luces,' is thereby openly identified with shakespeare's early foe, sir thomas lucy of charlecote. when shakespeare makes master slender repeat the report that master page's fallow greyhound was 'outrun on cotsall' (i. i. ), he testifies to his interest in the coursing matches for which the cotswold district was famed. 'henry v.' the spirited character of prince hal was peculiarly congenial to its creator, and in 'henry v' shakespeare, during , brought his career to its close. the play was performed early in , probably in the newly built globe theatre. again thomas creede printed, in , an imperfect draft, which was thrice reissued before a complete version was supplied in the first folio of . the dramatic interest of 'henry v' is slender. there is abundance of comic element, but death has removed falstaff, whose last moments are described with the simple pathos that comes of a matchless art, and, though falstaff's companions survive, they are thin shadows of his substantial figure. new comic characters are introduced in the persons of three soldiers respectively of welsh, scottish, and irish nationality, whose racial traits are contrasted with telling effect. the irascible irishman, captain macmorris, is the only representative of his nation who figures in the long list of shakespeare's _dramatis personae_. the scene in which the pedantic but patriotic welshman, fluellen, avenges the sneers of the braggart pistol at his nation's emblem, by forcing him to eat the leek, overflows in vivacious humour. the piece in its main current presents a series of loosely connected episodes in which the hero's manliness is displayed as soldier, ruler, and lover. the topic reached its climax in the victory of the english at agincourt, which powerfully appealed to patriotic sentiment. besides the 'famous victories,' { } there was another lost piece on the subject, which henslowe produced for the first time on november , . 'henry v' may be regarded as shakespeare's final experiment in the dramatisation of english history, and it artistically rounds off the series of his 'histories' which form collectively a kind of national epic. for 'henry viii,' which was produced very late in his career, he was only in part responsible, and that 'history' consequently belongs to a different category. essex and the rebellion of . a glimpse of autobiography may be discerned in the direct mention by shakespeare in 'henry v' of an exciting episode in current history. in the prologue to act v. shakespeare foretold for robert devereux, second earl of essex, the close friend of his patron southampton, an enthusiastic reception by the people of london when he should come home after 'broaching' rebellion in ireland. were now the general of our gracious empress, as in good time he may, from ireland coming, bringing rebellion broached on his sword, how many would the peaceful city quit to welcome him!--(act v. chorus, ll. - .) essex had set out on his disastrous mission as the would-be pacificator of ireland on march , . the fact that southampton went with him probably accounts for shakespeare's avowal of sympathy. but essex's effort failed. he was charged, soon after 'henry v' was produced, with treasonable neglect of duty, and he sought in , again with the support of southampton, to recover his position by stirring up rebellion in london. then shakespeare's reference to essex's popularity with londoners bore perilous fruit. the friends of the rebel leaders sought the dramatist's countenance. they paid s. to augustine phillips, a leading member of shakespeare's company, to induce him to revive at the globe theatre 'richard ii' (beyond doubt shakespeare's play), in the hope that its scene of the killing of a king might encourage a popular outbreak. phillips subsequently deposed that he prudently told the conspirators who bespoke the piece that 'that play of kyng richard' was 'so old and so long out of use as that they should have small or no company at it.' none the less the performance took place on saturday (february , ), the day preceding that fixed by essex for the rising. the queen, in a later conversation with william lambarde (on august , ), complained that 'this tragedie' of 'richard ii,' which she had always viewed with suspicion, was played at the period with seditious intent 'forty times in open streets and houses.' { } at the trial of essex and his friends, phillips gave evidence of the circumstances under which the tragedy was revived at the globe theatre. essex was executed and southampton was imprisoned until the queen's death. no proceedings were taken against the players, { a} but shakespeare wisely abstained, for the time, from any public reference to the fate either of essex or of his patron southampton. shakespeare's popularity and influence. such incidents served to accentuate shakespeare's growing reputation. for several years his genius as dramatist and poet had been acknowledged by critics and playgoers alike, and his social and professional position had become considerable. inside the theatre his influence was supreme. when, in , the manager of the company rejected ben jonson's first comedy--his 'every man in his humour'--shakespeare intervened, according to a credible tradition (reported by rowe but denounced by gifford), and procured a reversal of the decision in the interest of the unknown dramatist who was his junior by nine years. he took a part when the piece was performed. jonson was of a difficult and jealous temper, and subsequently he gave vent to an occasional expression of scorn at shakespeare's expense, but, despite passing manifestations of his unconquerable surliness, there can be no doubt that jonson cherished genuine esteem and affection for shakespeare till death. { b} within a very few years of shakespeare's death sir nicholas l'estrange, an industrious collector of anecdotes, put into writing an anecdote for which he made dr. donne responsible, attesting the amicable relations that habitually subsisted between shakespeare and jonson. 'shakespeare,' ran the story, 'was godfather to one of ben jonson's children, and after the christening, being in a deep study, jonson came to cheer him up and asked him why he was so melancholy. "no, faith, ben," says he, "not i, but i have been considering a great while what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my godchild, and i have resolv'd at last." "i pr'ythee, what?" sayes he. "i' faith, ben, i'll e'en give him a dozen good lattin spoons, and thou shalt translate them."' { } the mermaid meetings. the creator of falstaff could have been no stranger to tavern life, and he doubtless took part with zest in the convivialities of men of letters. tradition reports that shakespeare joined, at the mermaid tavern in bread street, those meetings of jonson and his associates which beaumont described in his poetical 'letter' to jonson: 'what things have we seen done at the mermaid? heard words that have been so nimble, and so full of subtle flame, as if that every one from whence they came had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, and had resolved to live a fool the rest of his dull life.' 'many were the wit-combats,' wrote fuller of shakespeare in his 'worthies' ( ), 'betwixt him and ben jonson, which two i behold like a spanish great galleon and an english man of war; master jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning, solid but slow in his performances. shakespear, with the englishman of war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds by the quickness of his wit and invention.' mere's eulogy, . of the many testimonies paid to shakespeare's literary reputation at this period of his career, the most striking was that of francis meres. meres was a learned graduate of cambridge university, a divine and schoolmaster, who brought out in a collection of apophthegms on morals, religion, and literature which he entitled 'palladis tamia.' in the book he interpolated 'a comparative discourse of our english poets with the greek, latin, and italian poets,' and there exhaustively surveyed contemporary literary effort in england. shakespeare figured in meres's pages as the greatest man of letters of the day. 'the muses would speak shakespeare's fine filed phrase,' meres asserted, 'if they could speak english.' 'among the english,' he declared, 'he was the most excellent in both kinds for the stage' (_i.e._ tragedy and comedy). the titles of six comedies ('two gentlemen of verona, 'errors,' 'love's labour's lost,' 'love's labour's won,' 'midsummer night's dream,' and 'merchant of venice') and of six tragedies ('richard ii,' 'richard iii,' 'henry iv,' 'king john,' 'titus,' and 'romeo and juliet') were set forth, and mention followed of his 'venus and adonis,' his 'lucrece,' and his 'sugred { } sonnets among his private friends.' these were cited as proof 'that the sweet witty soul of ovid lives in mellifluous and honey-tongued shakespeare.' in the same year a rival poet, richard barnfield, in 'poems in divers humors,' predicted immortality for shakespeare with no less confidence. and shakespeare, thou whose honey-flowing vein (pleasing the world) thy praises doth obtain, whose _venus_ and whose _lucrece_ (sweet and chaste) thy name in fame's immortal book have placed, live ever you, at least in fame live ever: well may the body die, but fame dies never. value of his name to publishers. shakespeare's name was thenceforth of value to unprincipled publishers, and they sought to palm off on their customers as his work the productions of inferior pens. as early as , thomas creede, the surreptitious printer of 'henry v' and the 'merry wives,' had issued the crude 'tragedie of locrine, as 'newly set foorth, overseene and corrected. by w. s.' it appropriated many passages from an older piece called 'selimus,' which was possibly by greene and certainly came into being long before shakespeare had written a line of blank verse. the same initials--'w.s.' { }--figured on the title-page of 'the true chronicle historie of thomas, lord cromwell,' which was licensed on august , , was printed for william jones in that year, and was reprinted verbatim by thomas snodham in . on the title-page of the comedy entitled 'the puritaine, or the widdow of watling streete,' which george eld printed in , 'w.s.' was again stated to be the author. shakespeare's full name appeared on the title-pages of 'the life of old-castle' in (printed for t[homas] p[avier]), of 'the london prodigall' in (printed by t. c. for nathaniel butter), and of 'the yorkshire tragedy' in (by r. b. for thomas pavier). none of these six plays have any internal claim to shakespeare's authorship; nevertheless all were uncritically included in the third folio of his collected works,( ). schlegel and a few other critics of repute have, on no grounds that merit acceptance, detected signs of shakespeare's genuine work in one of the six, 'the yorkshire tragedy;' it is 'a coarse, crude, and vigorous impromptu,' which is clearly by a far less experienced hand. the fraudulent practice of crediting shakespeare with valueless plays from the pens of comparatively dull-witted contemporaries was in vogue among enterprising traders in literature both early and late in the seventeenth century. the worthless old play on the subject of king john was attributed to shakespeare in the reissues of and . humphrey moseley, a reckless publisher of a later period, fraudulently entered on the 'stationers' register' on september , , two pieces which he represented to be in whole or in part by shakespeare, viz. 'the merry devill of edmonton' and the 'history of cardenio,' a share in which was assigned to fletcher. 'the merry devill of edmonton,' which was produced on the stage before the close of the sixteenth century, was entered on the 'stationers' register,' october , , and was first published anonymously in ; it is a delightful comedy, abounding in both humour and romantic sentiment; at times it recalls scenes of the 'merry wives of windsor,' but no sign of shakespeare's workmanship is apparent. the 'history of cardenio' is not extant. { } francis kirkman, another active london publisher, who first printed william rowley's 'birth of merlin' in , described it on the title-page as 'written by william shakespeare and william rowley;' it was reprinted at halle in a so-called 'collection of pseudo-shakespearean plays' in . 'the passionate pilgrim.' but poems no less than plays, in which shakespeare had no hand, were deceptively placed to his credit as soon as his fame was established. in william jaggard, a well-known pirate publisher, issued a poetic anthology which he entitled 'the passionate pilgrim, by w. shakespeare.' the volume opened with two sonnets by shakespeare which were not previously in print, and there followed three poems drawn from the already published 'love's labour's lost;' but the bulk of the volume was by richard barnfield and others. { } a third edition of the 'passionate pilgrim' was printed in with unaltered title-page, although the incorrigible jaggard had added two new poems which he silently filched from thomas heywood's 'troia britannica.' heywood called attention to his own grievance in the dedicatory epistle before his 'apology for actors' ( ), and he added that shakespeare resented the more substantial injury which the publisher had done him. 'i know,' wrote heywood of shakespeare, '[he was] much offended with m. jaggard that (altogether unknown to him) presumed to make so bold with his name.' in the result the publisher seems to have removed shakespeare's name from the title-page of a few copies. this is the only instance on record of a protest on shakespeare's part against the many injuries which he suffered at the hands of contemporary publishers. 'the phoenix and the turtle.' in shakespeare's full name was appended to 'a poetical essaie on the phoenix and the turtle,' which was published by edward blount in an appendix to robert chester's 'love's martyr, or rosalins complaint, allegorically shadowing the truth of love in the constant fate of the phoenix and turtle.' the drift of chester's crabbed verse is not clear, nor can the praise of perspicuity be allowed to the appendix to which shakespeare contributed, together with marston, chapman, ben jonson, and 'ignoto.' the appendix is introduced by a new title-page running thus: 'hereafter follow diverse poeticall essaies on the former subject, viz: the turtle and phoenix. done by the best and chiefest of our modern writers, with their names subscribed to their particular workes: never before extant.' shakespeare's alleged contribution consists of thirteen four-lined stanzas in trochaics, each line being of seven syllables, with the rhymes disposed as in tennyson's 'in memoriam.' the concluding 'threnos' is in five three-lined stanzas, also in trochaics, each stanza having a single rhyme. the poet describes in enigmatic language the obsequies of the phoenix and the turtle-dove, who had been united in life by the ties of a purely spiritual love. the poem may be a mere play of fancy without recondite intention, or it may be of allegorical import; but whether it bear relation to pending ecclesiastical, political, or metaphysical controversy, or whether it interpret popular grief for the death of some leaders of contemporary society, is not easily determined. { } happily shakespeare wrote nothing else of like character. xii--the practical affairs of life shakespeare's practical temperament. shakespeare, in middle life, brought to practical affairs a singularly sane and sober temperament. in 'ratseis ghost' ( ), an anecdotal biography of gamaliel ratsey, a notorious highwayman, who was hanged at bedford on march , , the highwayman is represented as compelling a troop of actors whom he met by chance on the road to perform in his presence. at the close of the performance ratsey, according to the memoir, addressed himself to a leader of the company, and cynically urged him to practise the utmost frugality in london. 'when thou feelest thy purse well lined (the counsellor proceeded), buy thee some place or lordship in the country that, growing weary of playing, thy money may there bring thee to dignity and reputation.' whether or no ratsey's biographer consciously identified the highwayman's auditor with shakespeare, it was the prosaic course of conduct marked out by ratsey that shakespeare literally followed. as soon as his position in his profession was assured, he devoted his energies to re-establishing the fallen fortunes of his family in his native place, and to acquiring for himself and his successors the status of gentlefolk. his father's difficulties. his father's pecuniary embarrassments had steadily increased since his son's departure. creditors harassed him unceasingly. in one nicholas lane pursued him for a debt for which he had become liable as surety for his brother henry, who was still farming their father's lands at snitterfield. through and john shakespeare retaliated with pertinacity on a debtor named john tompson. but in a creditor, adrian quiney, obtained a writ of distraint against him, and although in he attested inventories taken on the death of two neighbours, ralph shaw and henry field, father of the london printer, he was on december of the same year 'presented' as a recusant for absenting himself from church. the commissioners reported that his absence was probably due to 'fear of process for debt.' he figures for the last time in the proceedings of the local court, in his customary _role_ of defendant, on march , . he was then joined with two fellow traders--philip green, a chandler, and henry rogers, a butcher--as defendant in a suit brought by adrian quiney and thomas barker for the recovery of the sum of five pounds. unlike his partners in the litigation, his name is not followed in the record by a mention of his calling, and when the suit reached a later stage his name was omitted altogether. these may be viewed as indications that in the course of the proceedings he finally retired from trade, which had been of late prolific in disasters for him. in january - he conveyed a slip of land attached to his dwelling in henley street to one george badger. his wife's debt. there is a likelihood that the poet's wife fared, in the poet's absence, no better than his father. the only contemporary mention made of her between her marriage in and her husband's death in is as the borrower at an unascertained date (evidently before ) of forty shillings from thomas whittington, who had formerly been her father's shepherd. the money was unpaid when whittington died in , and he directed his executor to recover the sum from the poet and distribute it among the poor of stratford. { } it was probably in that shakespeare returned, after nearly eleven years' absence, to his native town, and worked a revolution in the affairs of his family. the prosecutions of his father in the local court ceased. thenceforth the poet's relations with stratford were uninterrupted. he still resided in london for most of the year; but until the close of his professional career he paid the town at least one annual visit, and he was always formally described as 'of stratford-on-avon, gentleman.' he was no doubt there on august , , when his only son, hamnet, was buried in the parish church; the boy was eleven and a half years old. the coat-of-arms. at the same date the poet's father, despite his pecuniary embarrassments, took a step, by way of regaining his prestige, which must be assigned to the poet's intervention. { a} he made application to the college of heralds for a coat-of-arms. { b} then, as now, the heralds when bestowing new coats-of-arms commonly credited the applicant's family with an imaginary antiquity, and little reliance need be placed on the biographical or genealogical statements alleged in grants of arms. the poet's father or the poet himself when first applying to the college stated that john shakespeare, in , while he was bailiff of stratford, and while he was by virtue of that office a justice of the peace, had obtained from robert cook, then clarenceux herald, a 'pattern' or sketch of an armorial coat. this allegation is not noticed in the records of the college, and may be a formal fiction designed by john shakespeare and his son to recommend their claim to the notice of the heralds. the negotiations of , if they were not apocryphal, were certainly abortive; otherwise there would have been no necessity for the further action of . in any case, on october , , a draft, which remains in the college of arms, was prepared under the direction of william dethick, garter king-of-arms, granting john's request for a coat-of-arms. garter stated, with characteristic vagueness, that he had been 'by credible report' informed that the applicant's 'parentes and late antecessors were for theire valeant and faithfull service advanced and rewarded by the most prudent prince king henry the seventh of famous memories sythence whiche tyme they have continewed at those partes [_i.e._ warwickshire] in good reputacion and credit;' and that 'the said john [had] maryed mary, daughter and heiress of robert arden, of wilmcote, gent.' in consideration of these titles to honour, garter declared that he assigned to shakespeare this shield, viz.: 'gold, on a bend sable, a spear of the first, and for his crest or cognizance a falcon, his wings displayed argent, standing on a wreath of his colours, supporting a spear gold steeled as aforesaid.' in the margin of this draft-grant there is a pen sketch of the arms and crest, and above them is written the motto, 'non sans droict.' { } a second copy of the draft, also dated in , is extant at the college. the only alterations are the substitution of the word 'grandfather' for 'antecessors' in the account of john shakespeare's ancestry, and the substitution of the word 'esquire' for 'gent' in the description of his wife's father, robert arden. at the foot of this draft, however, appeared some disconnected and unverifiable memoranda which john shakespeare or his son had supplied to the heralds, to the effect that john had been bailiff of stratford, had received a 'pattern' of a shield from clarenceux cook, was a man of substance, and had married into a worshipful family. { } [picture: coat-of-arms] neither of these drafts was fully executed. it may have been that the unduly favourable representations made to the college respecting john shakespeare's social and pecuniary position excited suspicion even in the habitually credulous minds of the heralds, or those officers may have deemed the profession of the son, who was conducting the negotiation, a bar to completing the transaction. at any rate, shakespeare and his father allowed three years to elapse before (as far as extant documents show) they made a further endeavour to secure the coveted distinction. in their efforts were crowned with success. changes in the interval among the officials at the college may have facilitated the proceedings. in the earl of essex had become earl marshal and chief of the heralds' college (the office had been in commission in ); while the great scholar and antiquary, william camden, had joined the college, also in , as clarenceux king-of-arms. the poet was favourably known to both camden and the earl of essex, the close friend of the earl of southampton. his father's application now took a new form. no grant of arms was asked for. it was asserted without qualification that the coat, as set out in the draft-grants of , had been _assigned_ to john shakespeare while he was bailiff, and the heralds were merely invited to give him a 'recognition' or 'exemplification' of it. { } at the same time he asked permission for himself to impale, and his eldest son and other children to quarter, on 'his ancient coat-of-arms' that of the ardens of wilmcote, his wife's family. the college officers were characteristically complacent. a draft was prepared under the hands of dethick, the garter king, and of camden, the clarenceux king, granting the required 'exemplification' and authorising the required impalement and quartering. on one point only did dethick and camden betray conscientious scruples. shakespeare and his father obviously desired the heralds to recognise the title of mary shakespeare (the poet's mother) to bear the arms of the great warwickshire family of arden, then seated at park hall. but the relationship, if it existed, was undetermined; the warwickshire ardens were gentry of influence in the county, and were certain to protest against any hasty assumption of identity between their line and that of the humble farmer of wilmcote. after tricking the warwickshire arden coat in the margin of the draft-grant for the purpose of indicating the manner of its impalement, the heralds on second thoughts erased it. they substituted in their sketch the arms of an arden family living at alvanley in the distant county of cheshire. with that stock there was no pretence that robert arden of wilmcote was lineally connected; but the bearers of the alvanley coat were unlikely to learn of its suggested impalement with the shakespeare shield, and the heralds were less liable to the risk of litigation. but the shakespeares wisely relieved the college of all anxiety by omitting to assume the arden coat. the shakespeare arms alone are displayed with full heraldic elaboration on the monument above the poet's grave in stratford church; they alone appear on the seal and on the tombstone of his elder daughter, mrs. susanna hall, impaled with the arms of her husband; { a} and they alone were quartered by thomas nash, the first husband of the poet's granddaughter, elizabeth hall. { b} some objection was taken a few years later to the grant even of the shakespeare shield, but it was based on vexatious grounds that could not be upheld. early in the seventeenth century ralph brooke, who was york herald from till his death in , and was long engaged in a bitter quarrel with his fellow officers at the college, complained that the arms 'exemplified' to shakespeare usurped the coat of lord mauley, on whose shield 'a bend sable' also figured. dethick and camden, who were responsible for any breach of heraldic etiquette in the matter, answered that the shakespeare shield bore no more resemblance to the mauley coat than it did to that of the harley and the ferrers families, which also bore 'a bend sable,' but that in point of fact it differed conspicuously from all three by the presence of a spear on the 'bend.' dethick and camden added, with customary want of precision, that the person to whom the grant was made had 'borne magistracy and was justice of peace at stratford-on-avon; he maried the daughter and heire of arderne, and was able to maintain that estate.' { } purchase of new place. meanwhile, in , the poet had taken openly in his own person a more effective step in the way of rehabilitating himself and his family in the eyes of his fellow townsmen. on may he purchased the largest house in the town, known as new place. it had been built by sir hugh clopton more than a century before, and seems to have fallen into a ruinous condition. but shakespeare paid for it, with two barns and two gardens, the then substantial sum of pounds. owing to the sudden death of the vendor, william underhill, on july , , the original transfer of the property was left at the time incomplete. underhill's son fulk died a felon, and he was succeeded in the family estates by his brother hercules, who on coming of age, may , completed in a new deed the transfer of new place to shakespeare. { a} on february , - , shakespeare was described as a householder in chapel street ward, in which new place was situated, and as the owner of ten quarters of corn. the inventory was made owing to the presence of famine in the town, and only two inhabitants were credited with a larger holding. in the same year ( ) he procured stone for the repair of the house, and before had planted a fruit orchard. he is traditionally said to have interested himself in the garden, and to have planted with his own hands a mulberry-tree, which was long a prominent feature of it. when this was cut down, in , numerous relics were made from it, and were treated with an almost superstitious veneration. { b} shakespeare does not appear to have permanently settled at new place till . in the house, or part of it, was occupied by the town clerk, thomas greene, 'alias shakespeare,' who claimed to be the poet's cousin. his grandmother seems to have been a shakespeare. he often acted as the poet's legal adviser. it was doubtless under their son's guidance that shakespeare's father and mother set on foot in november --six months after his acquisition of new place--a lawsuit against john lambert for the recovery of the mortgaged estate of asbies in wilmcote. the litigation dragged on for some years without result. appeals for aid from his fellow-townsmen. three letters written during by leading men at stratford are still extant among the corporation's archives, and leave no doubt of the reputation for wealth and influence with which the purchase of new place invested the poet in his fellow-townsmen's eyes. abraham sturley, who was once bailiff, writing early in , apparently to a brother in london, says: 'this is one special remembrance from our father's motion. it seemeth by him that our countryman, mr. shakspere, is willing to disburse some money upon some odd yardland or other at shottery, or near about us: he thinketh it a very fit pattern to move him to deal in the matter of our tithes. by the instructions you can give him thereof, and by the friends he can make therefor, we think it a fair mark for him to shoot at, and would do us much good.' richard quiney, another townsman, father of thomas (afterwards one of shakespeare's two sons-in-law), was, in the autumn of the same year, harassed by debt, and on october appealed to shakespeare for a loan of money. 'loving countryman,' the application ran, 'i am bold of you as of a friend craving your help with xxx_li_.' quiney was staying at the bell inn in carter lane, london, and his main business in the metropolis was to procure exemption for the town of stratford from the payment of a subsidy. abraham sturley, writing to quiney from stratford ten days later (on november , ), pointed out to him that since the town was wholly unable, in consequence of the dearth of corn, to pay the tax, he hoped 'that our countryman, mr. wm. shak., would procure us money, which i will like of, as i shall hear when and where, and how.' financial position before . the financial prosperity to which this correspondence and the transactions immediately preceding it point has been treated as one of the chief mysteries of shakespeare's career, but the difficulties are gratuitous. there is practically nothing in shakespeare's financial position that a study of the contemporary conditions of theatrical life does not fully explain. it was not until , when the globe theatre was built, that he acquired any share in the profits of a playhouse. but his revenues as a successful dramatist and actor were by no means contemptible at an earlier date. his gains in the capacity of dramatist formed the smaller source of income. the highest price known to have been paid before to an author for a play by the manager of an acting company was pounds; pounds was the lowest rate. { a} a small additional gratuity--rarely apparently exceeding ten shillings--was bestowed on a dramatist whose piece on its first production was especially well received; and the author was by custom allotted, by way of 'benefit,' a certain proportion of the receipts of the theatre on the production of a play for the second time. { b} other sums, amounting at times to as much as pounds, were bestowed on the author for revising and altering an old play for a revival. the nineteen plays which may be set to shakespeare's credit between and , combined with such revising work as fell to his lot during those eight years, cannot consequently have brought him less than pounds, or some pounds a year. eight or nine of these plays were published during the period, but the publishers operated independently of the author, taking all the risks and, at the same time, all the receipts. the publication of shakespeare's plays in no way affected his monetary resources, although his friendly relations with the printer field doubtless secured him, despite the absence of any copyright law, some part of the profits in the large and continuous sale of his poems. but it was as an actor that at an early date he acquired a genuinely substantial and secure income. there is abundance of contemporary evidence to show that the stage was for an efficient actor an assured avenue to comparative wealth. in robert greene describes in his tract entitled 'never too late' a meeting with a player whom he took by his 'outward habit' to be 'a gentleman of great living' and a 'substantial man.' the player informed greene that he had at the beginning of his career travelled on foot, bearing his theatrical properties on his back, but he prospered so rapidly that at the time of speaking 'his very share in playing apparel would not be sold for pounds.' among his neighbours 'where he dwelt' he was reputed able 'at his proper cost to build a windmill.' in the university play, 'the return from parnassus' ( ?), a poor student enviously complains of the wealth and position which a successful actor derived from his calling. england affords those glorious vagabonds, that carried erst their fardles on their backs, coursers to ride on through the gazing streets, sweeping it in their glaring satin suits, and pages to attend their masterships; with mouthing words that better wits had framed, they purchase lands and now esquires are made. { a} the travelling actors, from whom the highwayman gamaliel ratsey extorted a free performance in , were represented as men with the certainty of a rich competency in prospect. { b} an efficient actor received in as large a regular salary as pounds. the lowest known valuation set an actor's wages at s. a day, or about pounds a year. shakespeare's emoluments as an actor before are not likely to have fallen below pounds; while the remuneration due to performances at court or in noblemen's houses, if the accounts of be accepted as the basis of reckoning, added some pounds. thus over pounds (equal to , pounds of to-day) would be shakespeare's average annual revenue before . such a sum would be regarded as a very large income in a country town. according to the author of 'ratseis ghost,' the actor, who may well have been meant for shakespeare, practised in london a strict frugality, and there seems no reason why shakespeare should not have been able in to draw from his savings pounds wherewith to buy new place. his resources might well justify his fellow-townsmen's opinion of his wealth in , and suffice between and to meet his expenses, in rebuilding the house, stocking the barns with grain, and conducting various legal proceedings. but, according to tradition, he had in the earl of southampton a wealthy and generous friend who on one occasion gave him a large gift of money to enable 'him to go through with' a purchase to which he had a mind. a munificent gift, added to professional gains, leaves nothing unaccounted for in shakespeare's financial position before . financial position after . after his sources of income from the theatre greatly increased. in the heirs of the actor richard burbage were engaged in litigation respecting their proprietary rights in the two playhouses, the globe and the blackfriars theatres. the documents relating to this litigation supply authentic, although not very detailed, information of shakespeare's interest in theatrical property. { } richard burbage, with his brother cuthbert, erected at their sole cost the globe theatre in the winter of - , and the blackfriars theatre, which their father was building at the time of his death in , was also their property. after completing the globe they leased out, for twenty-one years, shares in the receipts of the theatre to 'those deserving men shakespeare, hemings, condell, philips, and others.' all the shareholders named were, like burbage, active members of shakespeare's company of players. the shares, which numbered sixteen in all, carried with them the obligation of providing for the expenses of the playhouse, and were doubtless in the first instance freely bestowed. hamlet claims, in the play scene (iii. ii. ), that the success of his improvised tragedy deserved to get him 'a fellowship in a cry of players'--a proof that a successful dramatist might reasonably expect such a reward for a conspicuous effort. in 'hamlet,' moreover, both a share and a half-share of 'a fellowship in a cry of players' are described as assets of enviable value (iii. ii. - ). how many shares originally fell to shakespeare there is no means of determining. records of later subdivisions suggest that they did not exceed two. the globe was an exceptionally large and popular playhouse. it would accommodate some two thousand spectators, whose places cost them sums varying between twopence and half a crown. the receipts were therefore considerable, hardly less than pounds daily, or some , pounds a year. according to the documents of , an actor-sharer at the globe received above pounds a year on each share, besides his actor's salary of pounds. thus shakespeare drew from the globe theatre, at the lowest estimate, more than pounds a year in all. his interest in the blackfriars theatre was comparatively unimportant, and is less easy to estimate. the often quoted documents on which collier depended to prove him a substantial shareholder in that playhouse have long been proved to be forgeries. the pleas in the lawsuit of show that the burbages, the owners, leased the blackfriars theatre after its establishment in for a long term of years to the master of the children of the chapel, but bought out the lessee at the end of , and then 'placed' in it 'men-players which were hemings, condell, shakespeare, etc.' to these and other actors they allotted shares in the receipts, the shares numbering eight in all. the profits were far smaller than at the globe, and if shakespeare held one share (certainty on the point is impossible), it added not more than pounds a year to his income, and that not until . later income. his remuneration as dramatist between and was also by no means contemptible. prices paid to dramatists for plays rose rapidly in the early years of the seventeenth century, { } while the value of the author's 'benefits' grew with the growing vogue of the theatre. the exceptional popularity of shakespeare's plays after gave him the full advantage of higher rates of pecuniary reward in all directions, and the seventeen plays which were produced by him between that year and the close of his professional career in probably brought him an average return of pounds each or pounds in all--nearly pounds a year. at the same time the increase in the number of court performances under james i, and the additional favour bestowed on shakespeare's company, may well have given that source of income the enhanced value of pounds a year. { } thus shakespeare in the later period of his life was earning above pounds a year in money of the period. with so large a professional income he could easily, with good management, have completed those purchases of houses and land at stratford on which he laid out, between and , a total sum of pounds, or an annual average of pounds. these properties, it must be remembered, represented investments, and he drew rent from most of them. he traded, too, in agricultural produce. there is nothing inherently improbable in the statement of john ward, the seventeenth-century vicar of stratford, that in his last years 'he spent at the rate of a thousand a year, as i have heard,' although we may reasonably make allowance for exaggeration in the round figures. incomes of fellow-actors. shakespeare realised his theatrical shares several years before his death in , when he left, according to his will, pounds in money in addition to an extensive real estate and numerous personal belongings. there was nothing exceptional in this comparative affluence. his friends and fellow-actors, heming and condell, amassed equally large, if not larger, fortunes. burbage died in worth pounds in land, besides personal property; while a contemporary actor and theatrical proprietor, edward alleyn, purchased the manor of dulwich for , pounds (in money of his own day), and devoted it, with much other property, to public uses, at the same time as he made ample provision for his family out of the residue of his estate. gifts from patrons may have continued occasionally to augment shakespeare's resources, but his wealth can be satisfactorily assigned to better attested agencies. there is no ground for treating it as of mysterious origin. { a} formation of the estate at stratford - . between and , while london remained shakespeare's chief home, he built up at stratford a large landed estate which his purchase of new place had inaugurated. in his father died, being buried on september . he apparently left no will, and the poet, as the eldest son, inherited the houses in henley street, the only portion of the property of the elder shakespeare or of his wife which had not been alienated to creditors. shakespeare permitted his mother to reside in one of the henley street houses till her death (she was buried september , ), and he derived a modest rent from the other. on may , , he purchased for pounds of the rich landowners william and john combe of stratford acres of arable land near the town. the conveyance was delivered, in the poet's absence, to his brother gilbert, 'to the use of the within named william shakespere.' { b} a third purchase quickly followed. on september , , at a court baron of the manor of rowington, one walter getley transferred to the poet a cottage and garden which were situated at chapel lane, opposite the lower grounds of new place. they were held practically in fee-simple at the annual rental of s. d. it appears from the roll that shakespeare did not attend the manorial court held on the day fixed for the transfer of the property at rowington, and it was consequently stipulated then that the estate should remain in the hands of the lady of the manor until he completed the purchase in person. at a later period he was admitted to the copyhold, and he settled the remainder on his two daughters in fee. in april he purchased from the combes acres of pasture land, to add to the of arable land that he had acquired of the same owners in . the stratford tithes. as early as abraham sturley had suggested that shakespeare should purchase the tithes of stratford. seven years later, on july , , he bought for pounds of ralph huband an unexpired term of thirty-one years of a ninety-two years' lease of a moiety of the tithes of stratford, old stratford, bishopton, and welcombe. the moiety was subject to a rent of pounds to the corporation, who were the reversionary owners on the lease's expiration, and of pounds to john barker, the heir of a former proprietor. the investment brought shakespeare, under the most favourable circumstances, no more than an annuity of pounds, and the refusal of persons who claimed an interest in the other moiety to acknowledge the full extent of their liability to the corporation led that body to demand from the poet payments justly due from others. after he joined with two interested persons, richard lane of awston and thomas greene, the town clerk of stratford, in a suit in chancery to determine the exact responsibilities of all the tithe-owners, and in they presented a bill of complaint to lord-chancellor ellesmere, with what result is unknown. his acquisition of a part-ownership in the tithes was fruitful in legal embarrassments. recovery of small debts. shakespeare inherited his father's love of litigation, and stood rigorously by his rights in all his business relations. in march he recovered in london a debt of pounds from one john clayton. in july , in the local court at stratford, he sued one philip rogers, to whom he had supplied since the preceding march malt to the value of pound s. d, and had on june lent s. in cash. rogers paid back s., and shakespeare sought the balance of the account, pound s. d. during and he was at law with another fellow-townsman, john addenbroke. on february , , shakespeare, who was apparently represented by his solicitor and kinsman thomas greene, { a} obtained judgment from a jury against addenbroke for the payment of pounds, and pound s. costs, but addenbroke left the town, and the triumph proved barren. shakespeare avenged himself by proceeding against one thomas horneby, who had acted as the absconding debtor's bail. { b} xiii--maturity of genius literary work in . with an inconsistency that is more apparent than real, the astute business transactions of these years ( - ) synchronise with the production of shakespeare's noblest literary work--of his most sustained and serious efforts in comedy, tragedy, and romance. in , after abandoning english history with 'henry v,' he addressed himself to the composition of his three most perfect essays in comedy--'much ado about nothing,' 'as you like it,' and 'twelfth night.' their good-humoured tone seems to reveal their author in his happiest frame of mind; in each the gaiety and tenderness of youthful womanhood are exhibited in fascinating union; while shakespeare's lyric gift bred no sweeter melodies than the songs with which the three plays are interspersed. at the same time each comedy enshrines such penetrating reflections on mysterious problems of life as mark the stage of maturity in the growth of the author's intellect. the first two of the three plays were entered on the 'stationers' registers' before august , , on which day a prohibition was set on their publication, as well as on the publication of 'henry v' and of ben jonson's 'every man in his humour.' this was one of the many efforts of the acting company to stop the publication of plays in the belief that the practice was injurious to their rights. the effort was only partially successful. 'much ado,' like 'henry v,' was published before the close of the year. neither 'as you like it' nor 'twelfth night,' however, was printed till it appeared in the folio. 'much ado.' in 'much ado,' which appears to have been written in , the brilliant and spirited comedy of benedick and beatrice, and of the blundering watchmen dogberry and verges, is wholly original; but the sombre story of hero and claudio, about which the comic incident revolves, is drawn from an italian source, either from bandello (novel. xxii.) through belleforest's 'histoires tragiques,' or from ariosto's 'orlando furioso' through sir john harington's translation (canto v.) ariosto's version, in which the injured heroine is called ginevra, and her lover ariodante, had been dramatised before. according to the accounts of the court revels, 'a historie of ariodante and ginevra was showed before her majestie on shrovetuesdaie at night' in . { } throughout shakespeare's play the ludicrous and serious aspects of humanity are blended with a convincing naturalness. the popular comic actor william kemp filled the role of dogberry, and cowley appeared as verges. in both the quarto of and the folio of these actors' names are prefixed by a copyist's error to some of the speeches allotted to the two characters (act iv. scene ii.) 'as you like it.' 'as you like it,' which quickly followed, is a dramatic adaptation of lodge's romance, 'rosalynde, euphues golden legacie' ( ), but shakespeare added three new characters of first-rate interest--jaques, the meditative cynic; touchstone, the most carefully elaborated of all shakespeare's fools; and the hoyden audrey. hints for the scene of orlando's encounter with charles the wrestler, and for touchstone's description of the diverse shapes of a lie, were clearly drawn from a book called 'saviolo's practise,' a manual of the art of self-defence, which appeared in from the pen of vincentio saviolo, an italian fencing-master in the service of the earl of essex. none of shakespeare's comedies breathes a more placid temper or approaches more nearly to a pastoral drama. yet there is no lack of intellectual or poetic energy in the enunciation of the contemplative philosophy which is cultivated in the forest of arden. in rosalind, celia, phoebe, and audrey, four types of youthful womanhood are contrasted with the liveliest humour. 'twelfth night.' the date of 'twelfth night' is probably , and its name, which has no reference to the story, doubtless commemorates the fact that it was designed for a twelfth night celebration. 'the new map with the augmentation of the indies,' spoken of by maria (iii. ii. ), was a respectful reference to the great map of the world or 'hydrographical description' which was first issued with hakluyt's 'voyages' in or , and first disclosed the full extent of recent explorations of the 'indies' in the new world and the old. { a} like the 'comedy of errors,' 'twelfth night' achieved the distinction, early in its career, of a presentation at an inn of court. it was produced at middle temple hall on february , - , and manningham, a barrister who was present, described the performance. { b} manningham wrote that the piece was 'much like the "comedy of errors" or "menechmi" in plautus, but most like and neere to that in italian called "inganni."' two sixteenth-century italian plays entitled 'gl' inganni' ('the cheats'), and a third called 'gl' ingannati,' bear resemblance to 'twelfth night.' it is possible that shakespeare had recourse to the last, which was based on bandello's novel of nicuola, { c} was first published at siena in , and became popular throughout italy. but in all probability he drew the story solely from the 'historie of apolonius and silla,' which was related in 'riche his farewell to militarie profession' ( ). the author of that volume, barnabe riche, translated the tale either direct from bandello's italian novel or from the french rendering of bandello's work in belleforest's 'histoires tragiques.' romantic pathos, as in 'much ado,' is the dominant note of the main plot of 'twelfth night,' but shakespeare neutralises the tone of sadness by his mirthful portrayal of malvolio, sir toby belch, sir andrew aguecheek, fabian, the clown feste, and maria, all of whom are his own creations. the ludicrous gravity of malvolio proved exceptionally popular on the stage. 'julius caesar,' . in shakespeare made a new departure by drawing a plot from north's noble translation of plutarch's 'lives.' { a} plutarch is the king of biographers, and the deference which shakespeare paid his work by adhering to the phraseology wherever it was practicable illustrates his literary discrimination. on plutarch's lives of julius caesar, brutus, and antony, shakespeare based his historical tragedy of 'julius caesar.' weever, in , in his 'mirror of martyrs,' plainly refers to the masterly speech in the forum at caaesar's funeral which shakespeare put into antony's mouth. there is no suggestion of the speech in plutarch; hence the composition of 'julius caesar' may be held to have preceded the issue of weever's book in . the general topic was already familiar on the stage. polonius told hamlet how, when he was at the university, he 'did enact julius caesar; he was kill'd in the capitol: brutus kill'd him.' { b} a play of the same title was known as early as , and was acted in by shakespeare's company. shakespeare's piece is a penetrating study of political life, and, although the murder and funeral of caesar form the central episode and not the climax, the tragedy is thoroughly well planned and balanced. caesar is ironically depicted in his dotage. the characters of brutus, antony, and cassius, the real heroes of the action, are exhibited with faultless art. the fifth act, which presents the battle of philippi in progress, proves ineffective on the stage, but the reader never relaxes his interest in the fortunes of the vanquished brutus, whose death is the catastrophe. while 'julius caesar' was winning its first laurels on the stage, the fortunes of the london theatres were menaced by two manifestations of unreasoning prejudice on the part of the public. the earlier manifestation, although speciously the more serious, was in effect innocuous. the puritans of the city of london had long agitated for the suppression of all theatrical performances, and it seemed as if the agitators triumphed when they induced the privy council on june , , to issue to the officers of the corporation of london and to the justices of the peace of middlesex and surrey an order forbidding the maintenance of more than two playhouses--one in middlesex (alleyn's newly erected playhouse, the 'fortune' in cripplegate), and the other in surrey (the 'globe' on the bankside). the contemplated restriction would have deprived very many actors of employment, and driven others to seek a precarious livelihood in the provinces. happily, disaster was averted by the failure of the municipal authorities and the magistrates of surrey and middlesex to make the order operative. all the london theatres that were already in existence went on their way unchecked. { a} the strife between adult and boy actors. more calamitous was a temporary reverse of fortune which shakespeare's company, in common with the other companies of adult actors, suffered soon afterwards at the hands, not of fanatical enemies of the drama, but of playgoers who were its avowed supporters. the company of boy-actors, chiefly recruited from the choristers of the chapel royal, and known as 'the children of the chapel,' had since been installed at the new theatre in blackfriars, and after the fortunes of the veterans, who occupied rival stages, were put in jeopardy by the extravagant outburst of public favour that the boys' performances evoked. in 'hamlet,' the play which followed 'julius caesar,' shakespeare pointed out the perils of the situation. { b} the adult actors, shakespeare asserted, were prevented from performing in london through no falling off in their efficiency, but by the 'late innovation' of the children's vogue. { a} they were compelled to go on tour in the provinces, at the expense of their revenues and reputation, because 'an aery [_i.e._ nest] of children, little eyases [_i.e._ young hawks],' dominated the theatrical world, and monopolised public applause. 'these are now the fashion,' the dramatist lamented, { b} and he made the topic the text of a reflection on the fickleness of public taste: hamlet. do the boys carry it away? rosencrantz. ay, that they do, my lord, hercules and his load too. hamlet. it is not very strange; for my uncle is king of denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred ducats apiece for his picture in little. jealousies in the ranks of the dramatists accentuated the actors' difficulties. ben jonson was, at the end of the sixteenth century, engaged in a fierce personal quarrel with two of his fellow dramatists, marston and dekker. the adult actors generally avowed sympathy with jonson's foes. jonson, by way of revenge, sought an offensive alliance with 'the children of the chapel.' under careful tuition the boys proved capable of performing much the same pieces as the men. to 'the children' jonson offered in his comical satire of 'cynthia's revels,' in which he held up to ridicule dekker, marston, and their actor-friends. the play, when acted by 'the children' at the blackfriars theatre, was warmly welcomed by the audience. next year jonson repeated his manoeuvre with greater effect. he learnt that marston and dekker were conspiring with the actors of shakespeare's company to attack him in a piece called 'satiro-mastix, or the untrussing of the humourous poet.' he anticipated their design by producing, again with 'the children of the chapel,' his 'poetaster,' which was throughout a venomous invective against his enemies--dramatists and actors alike. shakespeare's company retorted by producing dekker and marston's 'satiro-mastix' at the globe theatre next year. but jonson's action had given new life to the vogue of the children. playgoers took sides in the struggle, and their attention was for a season riveted, to the exclusion of topics more germane to their province, on the actors' and dramatists' boisterous war of personalities. { } shakespeare's references to the struggle. in his detailed references to the conflict in 'hamlet' shakespeare protested against the abusive comments on the men-actors of 'the common stages' or public theatres which were put into the children's mouths. rosencrantz declared that the children 'so berattle [_i.e._ assail] the common stages--so they call them--that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills, and dare scarce come thither [_i.e._ to the public theatres].' hamlet in pursuit of the theme pointed out that the writers who encouraged the vogue of the 'child-actors' did them a poor service, because when the boys should reach men's estate they would run the risk, if they continued on the stage, of the same insults and neglect which now threatened their seniors. hamlet. what are they children? who maintains 'em? how are they escoted [_i.e._ paid]? will they pursue the quality [_i.e._ the actor's profession] no longer than they can sing? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players--as it is most like, if their means are no better--their writers do them wrong to make them exclaim against their own succession? rosencrantz. faith, there has been much to do on both sides, and the nation holds it no sin to tarre [_i.e._ incite] them to controversy: there was for a while no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. hamlet. is it possible? guildenstern. o, there has been much throwing about of brains! shakespeare clearly favoured the adult actors in their rivalry with the boys, but he wrote more like a disinterested spectator than an active partisan when he made specific reference to the strife between the poet ben jonson and the players. in the prologue to 'troilus and cressida' which he penned in , he warned his hearers, with obvious allusion to ben jonson's battles, that he hesitated to identify himself with either actor or poet. { } passages in ben jonson's 'poetaster,' moreover, pointedly suggest that shakespeare cultivated so assiduously an attitude of neutrality that jonson acknowledged him to be qualified for the role of peacemaker. the gentleness of disposition with which shakespeare was invariably credited by his friends would have well fitted him for such an office. jonson's 'poetaster.' jonson figures personally in the 'poetaster' under the name of horace. episodically horace and his friends, tibullus and gallus, eulogise the work and genius of another character, virgil, in terms so closely resembling those which jonson is known to have applied to shakespeare that they may be regarded as intended to apply to him (act v. sc. i.) jonson points out that virgil, by his penetrating intuition, achieved the great effects which others laboriously sought to reach through rules of art. his learning labours not the school-like gloss that most consists of echoing words and terms . . . nor any long or far-fetched circumstance-- wrapt in the curious generalities of arts-- but a direct and analytic sum of all the worth and first effects of arts. and for his poesy, 'tis so rammed with life that it shall gather strength of life with being, and live hereafter, more admired than now. tibullus gives virgil equal credit for having in his writings touched with telling truth upon every vicissitude of human existence. that which he hath writ is with such judgment laboured and distilled through all the needful uses of our lives that, could a man remember but his lines, he should not touch at any serious point but he might breathe his spirit out of him. finally, virgil in the play is nominated by caesar to act as judge between horace and his libellers, and he advises the administration of purging pills to the offenders. that course of treatment is adopted with satisfactory results. { } shakespeare's alleged partisanship. as against this interpretation, one contemporary witness has been held to testify that shakespeare stemmed the tide of jonson's embittered activity by no peace-making interposition, but by joining his foes, and by administering to him, with their aid, the identical course of medicine which in the 'poetaster' is meted out to his enemies. in the same year ( ) as the 'poetaster' was produced, 'the return from parnassus'--a third piece in a trilogy of plays--was 'acted by the students in st. john's college, cambridge.' in this piece, as in its two predecessors, shakespeare received, both as a playwright and a poet, high commendation, although his poems were judged to reflect somewhat too largely 'love's lazy foolish languishment.' the actor burbage was introduced in his own name instructing an aspirant to the actor's profession in the part of richard the third, and the familiar lines from shakespeare's play-- now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of york-- are recited by the pupil as part of his lesson. subsequently in a prose dialogue between shakespeare's fellow-actors burbage and kempe, kempe remarks of university dramatists, 'why, here's our fellow shakespeare puts them all down; aye, and ben jonson, too. o! that ben jonson is a pestilent fellow. he brought up horace, giving the poets a pill; but our fellow shakespeare hath given him a purge that made him bewray his credit.' burbage adds: 'he is a shrewd fellow indeed.' this perplexing passage has been held to mean that shakespeare took a decisive part against jonson in the controversy with dekker and dekker's actor friends. but such a conclusion is nowhere corroborated, and seems to be confuted by the eulogies of virgil in the 'poetaster' and by the general handling of the theme in 'hamlet.' the words quoted from 'the return from parnassus' hardly admit of a literal interpretation. probably the 'purge' that shakespeare was alleged by the author of 'the return from parnassus' to have given jonson meant no more than that shakespeare had signally outstripped jonson in popular esteem. as the author of 'julius caesar,' he had just proved his command of topics that were peculiarly suited to jonson's vein, { } and had in fact outrun his churlish comrade on his own ground. 'hamlet,' . at any rate, in the tragedy that shakespeare brought out in the year following the production of 'julius caesar,' he finally left jonson and all friends and foes lagging far behind both in achievement and reputation. this new exhibition of the force of his genius re-established, too, the ascendency of the adult actors who interpreted his work, and the boys' supremacy was quickly brought to an end. in shakespeare produced 'hamlet,' 'that piece of his which most kindled english hearts.' the story of the prince of denmark had been popular on the stage as early as in a lost dramatic version by another writer--doubtless thomas kyd, whose tragedies of blood, 'the spanish tragedy' and 'jeronimo,' long held the elizabethan stage. to that lost version of 'hamlet' shakespeare's tragedy certainly owed much. { } the story was also accessible in the 'histoires tragiques' of belleforest, who adapted it from the 'historia danica' of saxo grammaticus. { } no english translation of belleforest's 'hystorie of hamblet' appeared before ; shakespeare doubtless read it in the french. but his authorities give little hint of what was to emerge from his study of them. the problem of its publication. the first quarto, . burbage created the title-part in shakespeare's tragedy, and its success on the stage led to the play's publication immediately afterwards. the bibliography of 'hamlet' offers a puzzling problem. on july , , 'a book called the revenge of hamlet, prince of denmark, as it was lately acted by the lord chamberlain his servants,' was entered on the stationers' company's registers, and it was published in quarto next year by n[icholas] l[ing] and john trundell. the title-page stated that the piece had been 'acted divers times in the city of london, as also in the two universities of cambridge and oxford and elsewhere.' the text here appeared in a rough and imperfect state. in all probability it was a piratical and carelessly transcribed copy of shakespeare's first draft of the play, in which he drew largely on the older piece. the second quarto, . a revised version, printed from a more complete and accurate manuscript, was published in as 'the tragical history of hamlet prince of denmark, by william shakespeare, newly imprinted and enlarged to almost as much again as it was, according to the true and perfect copy.' this was printed by i[ames] r[oberts] for the publisher n[icholas] l[ing]. the concluding words--'according to the true and perfect copy'--of the title-page of the second quarto were intended to stamp its predecessor as surreptitious and unauthentic. but it is clear that the second quarto was not a perfect version of the play. it was itself printed from a copy which had been curtailed for acting purposes. the folio version. a third version (long the _textus receptus_) figured in the folio of . here many passages, not to be found in the quartos, appear for the first time, but a few others that appear in the quartos are omitted. the folio text probably came nearest to the original manuscript; but it, too, followed an acting copy which had been abbreviated somewhat less drastically than the second quarto and in a different fashion. { } theobald in his 'shakespeare restored' ( ) made the first scholarly attempt to form a text from a collation of the first folio with the second quarto, and theobald's text with further embellishments by sir thomas hanmer, edward capell, and the cambridge editors of , is now generally adopted. popularity of 'hamlet.' 'hamlet' was the only drama by shakespeare that was acted in his lifetime at the two universities. it has since attracted more attention from actors, playgoers, and readers of all capacities than any other of shakespeare's plays. its world-wide popularity from its author's day to our own, when it is as warmly welcomed in the theatres of france and germany as in those of england and america, is the most striking of the many testimonies to the eminence of shakespeare's dramatic instinct. at a first glance there seems little in the play to attract the uneducated or the unreflecting. 'hamlet' is mainly a psychological effort, a study of the reflective temperament in excess. the action develops slowly; at times there is no movement at all. the piece is the longest of shakespeare's plays, reaching a total of over , lines. it is thus some nine hundred lines longer than 'antony and cleopatra'--the play by shakespeare that approaches 'hamlet' more closely in numerical strength of lines. at the same time the total length of hamlet's speeches far exceeds that of those allotted by shakespeare to any other of his characters. humorous relief is, it is true, effectively supplied to the tragic theme by polonius and the grave-diggers, and if the topical references to contemporary theatrical history (ii. ii. - ) could only count on an appreciative reception from an elizabethan audience, the pungent censure of actors' perennial defects is calculated to catch the ear of the average playgoer of all ages. but it is not to these subsidiary features that the universality of the play's vogue can be attributed. it is the intensity of interest which shakespeare contrives to excite in the character of the hero that explains the position of the play in popular esteem. the play's unrivalled power of attraction lies in the pathetic fascination exerted on minds of almost every calibre by the central figure--a high-born youth of chivalric instincts and finely developed intellect, who, when stirred to avenge in action a desperate private wrong, is foiled by introspective workings of the brain that paralyse the will. 'troilus and cressida.' although the difficulties of determining the date of 'troilus and cressida' are very great, there are many grounds for assigning its composition to the early days of . in dekker and chettle were engaged by henslowe to prepare for the earl of nottingham's company--a rival of shakespeare's company--a play of 'troilus and cressida,' of which no trace survives. it doubtless suggested the topic to shakespeare. on february , - , james roberts obtained a license for 'the booke of troilus and cresseda as yt is acted by my lord chamberlens men,' _i.e._ shakespeare's company. { a} roberts printed the second quarto of 'hamlet' and others of shakespeare's plays; but his effort to publish 'troilus' proved abortive owing to the interposition of the players. roberts's 'book' was probably shakespeare's play. the metrical characteristics of shakespeare's 'troilus and cressida'--the regularity of the blank verse--powerfully confirm the date of composition which roberts's license suggests. six years later, however, on january , - , a new license for the issue of 'a booke called the history of troylus and cressida' was granted to other publishers, richard bonian and henry walley, { b} and these publishers, more fortunate than roberts soon printed a quarto with shakespeare's full name as author. the text seems fairly authentic, but exceptional obscurity attaches to the circumstances of the publication. some copies of the book bear an ordinary type of title-page stating that the piece was printed 'as it was acted by the king's majesties servants at the globe.' but in other copies, which differ in no way in regard to the text of the play, there was substituted for this title-page a more pretentious announcement running: 'the famous historie of troylus and cresseid, excellently expressing the beginning of their loues with the conceited wooing of pandarus, prince of lacia.' after this pompous title-page there was inserted, for the first and only time in the case of a play by shakespeare that was published in his lifetime, an advertisement or preface. in this interpolated page an anonymous scribe, writing in the name of the publishers, paid bombastic and high-flown compliments to shakespeare as a writer of 'comedies,' and defiantly boasted that the 'grand possessers'--_i.e._ the owners--of the manuscript deprecated its publication. by way of enhancing the value of what were obviously stolen wares, it was falsely added that the piece was new and unacted. this address was possibly the brazen reply of the publishers to a more than usually emphatic protest on the part of players or dramatist against the printing of the piece. the editors of the folio evinced distrust of the quarto edition by printing their text from a different copy showing many deviations, which were not always for the better. treatment of the theme. the work, which in point of construction shows signs of haste, and in style is exceptionally unequal, is the least attractive of the efforts of shakespeare's middle life. the story is based on a romantic legend of the trojan war, which is of mediaeval origin. shakespeare had possibly read chapman's translation of homer's 'iliad,' but he owed his plot to chaucer's 'troilus and cresseid' and lydgate's 'troy book.' in defiance of his authorities he presented cressida as a heartless coquette; the poets who had previously treated her story--boccaccio, chaucer, lydgate, and robert henryson--had imagined her as a tender-hearted, if frail, beauty, with claims on their pity rather than on their scorn. but shakespeare's innovation is dramatically effective, and accords with strictly moral canons. the charge frequently brought against the dramatist that in 'troilus and cressida' he cynically invested the greek heroes of classical antiquity with contemptible characteristics is ill supported by the text of the play. ulysses, nestor, and agamemnon figure in shakespeare's play as brave generals and sagacious statesmen, and in their speeches shakespeare concentrated a marvellous wealth of pithily expressed philosophy, much of which has fortunately obtained proverbial currency. shakespeare's conception of the greeks followed traditional lines except in the case of achilles, whom he transforms into a brutal coward. and that portrait quite legitimately interpreted the selfish, unreasoning, and exorbitant pride with which the warrior was credited by homer, and his imitators. shakespeare's treatment of his theme cannot therefore be fairly construed, as some critics construe it, into a petty-minded protest against the honour paid to the ancient greeks and to the form and sentiment of their literature by more learned dramatists of the day, like ben jonson and chapman. although shakespeare knew the homeric version of the trojan war, he worked in 'troilus and cressida' upon a mediaeval romance, which was practically uninfluenced either for good or evil by the classical spirit. { } queen elizabeth's death, march , . despite the association of shakespeare's company with the rebellion of , and its difficulties with the children of the chapel royal, he and his fellow actors retained their hold on court favour till the close of elizabeth's reign. as late as february , , the company entertained the dying queen at richmond. her death on march , , drew from shakespeare's early eulogist, chettle, a vain appeal to him under the fanciful name of melicert, to drop from his honied muse one sable teare, to mourne her death that graced his desert, and to his laies opened her royal eare. { } but, except on sentimental grounds, the queen's death justified no lamentation on the part of shakespeare. on the withdrawal of one royal patron he and his friends at once found another, who proved far more liberal and appreciative. james i's patronage. on may , , james i, very soon after his accession, extended to shakespeare and other members of the lord chamberlain's company a very marked and valuable recognition. to them he granted under royal letters patent a license 'freely to use and exercise the arte and facultie of playing comedies, tragedies, histories, enterludes, moralls, pastoralles, stage-plaies, and such other like as they have already studied, or hereafter shall use or studie as well for the recreation of our loving subjectes as for our solace and pleasure, when we shall thinke good to see them during our pleasure.' the globe theatre was noted as the customary scene of their labours, but permission was granted to them to perform in the town-hall or moot-hall of any country town. nine actors are named. lawrence fletcher stands first on the list; he had already performed before james in scotland in and . shakespeare comes second and burbage third. the company to which they belonged was thenceforth styled the king's company; its members became 'the king's servants' and they took rank with the grooms of the chamber. { } shakespeare's plays were thenceforth repeatedly performed in james's presence, and oldys related that james wrote shakespeare a letter in his own hand, which was at one time in the possession of sir william d'avenant, and afterwards, according to lintot, in that of john sheffield, first duke of buckingham. in the autumn and winter of the prevalence of the plague led to the closing of the theatres in london. the king's players were compelled to make a prolonged tour in the provinces, which entailed some loss of income. for two months from the third week in october, the court was temporarily installed at wilton, the residence of william herbert, third earl of pembroke, and late in november the company was summoned by the royal officers to perform in the royal presence. the actors travelled from mortlake to salisbury 'unto the courte aforesaide,' and their performance took place at wilton house on december . they received next day 'upon the councells warrant' the large sum of pounds 'by way of his majesties reward.' { a} many other gracious marks of royal favour followed. on march , , shakespeare and eight other actors of the company walked from the tower of london to westminster in the procession which accompanied the king on his formal entry into london. each actor received four and a half yards of scarlet cloth to wear as a cloak on the occasion, and in the document authorising the grant shakespeare's name stands first on the list. { b} the dramatist dekker was author of a somewhat bombastic account of the elaborate ceremonial, which rapidly ran through three editions. on april , , the king gave further proof of his friendly interest in the fortunes of his actors by causing an official letter to be sent to the lord mayor of london and the justices of the peace for middlesex and surrey, bidding them 'permit and suffer' the king's players to 'exercise their playes' at their 'usual house,' the globe. { a} four months later--in august--every member of the company was summoned by the king's order to attend at somerset house during the fortnight's sojourn there of the spanish ambassador extraordinary, juan fernandez de velasco, duke de frias, and constable of castile, who came to london to ratify the treaty of peace between england and spain, and was magnificently entertained by the english court. { b} between all saints' day [november ] and the ensuing shrove tuesday, which fell early in february , shakespeare's company gave no fewer than eleven performances at whitehall in the royal presence. xiv--the highest themes of tragedy 'othello' and 'measure for measure.' under the incentive of such exalted patronage, shakespeare's activity redoubled, but his work shows none of the conventional marks of literature that is produced in the blaze of court favour. the first six years of the new reign saw him absorbed in the highest themes of tragedy, and an unparalleled intensity and energy, which bore few traces of the trammels of a court, thenceforth illumined every scene that he contrived. to the composition of two plays can be confidently assigned, one of which--'othello'--ranks with shakespeare's greatest achievements; while the other--'measure for measure'--although as a whole far inferior to 'othello,' contains one of the finest scenes (between angelo and isabella, ii. ii. sq.) and one of the greatest speeches (claudio on the fear of death, iii. i. - ) in the range of shakespearean drama. 'othello' was doubtless the first new piece by shakespeare that was acted before james. it was produced at whitehall on november . 'measure for measure' followed on december . { } neither was printed in shakespeare's lifetime. the plots of both ultimately come from the same italian collection of novels--giraldi cinthio's 'hecatommithi,' which was first published in . cinthio's painful story of 'othello' (decad. iii. nov. ) is not known to have been translated into english before shakespeare dramatised it. he followed its main drift with fidelity, but he introduced the new characters of roderigo and emilia, and he invested the catastrophe with new and fearful intensity by making iago's cruel treachery known to othello at the last, after iago's perfidy has impelled the noble-hearted moor in his groundless jealousy to murder his gentle and innocent wife desdemona. iago became in shakespeare's hands the subtlest of all studies of intellectual villainy and hypocrisy. the whole tragedy displays to magnificent advantage the dramatist's fully matured powers. an unfaltering equilibrium is maintained in the treatment of plot and characters alike. cinthio made the perilous story of 'measure for measure' the subject not only of a romance, but of a tragedy called 'epitia.' before shakespeare wrote his play, cinthio's romance had been twice rendered into english by george whetstone. whetstone had not only given a somewhat altered version of the italian romance in his unwieldy play of 'promos and cassandra' (in two parts of five acts each, ), but he had also freely translated it in his collection of prose tales, 'heptameron of civil discources' ( ). yet there is every likelihood that shakespeare also knew cinthio's play, which, unlike his romance, was untranslated; the leading character, who is by shakespeare christened angelo, was known by another name to cinthio in his story, but cinthio in his play (and not in his novel) gives the character a sister named angela, which doubtless suggested shakespeare's designation. { } in the hands of shakespeare's predecessors the tale is a sordid record of lust and cruelty. but shakespeare prudently showed scant respect for their handling of the narrative. by diverting the course of the plot at a critical point he not merely proved his artistic ingenuity, but gave dramatic dignity and moral elevation to a degraded and repellent theme. in the old versions isabella yields her virtue as the price of her brother's life. the central fact of shakespeare's play is isabella's inflexible and unconditional chastity. other of shakespeare's alterations, like the duke's abrupt proposal to marry isabella, seem hastily conceived. but his creation of the pathetic character of mariana 'of the moated grange'--the legally affianced bride of angelo, isabella's would-be seducer--skilfully excludes the possibility of a settlement (as in the old stories) between isabella and angelo on terms of marriage. shakespeare's argument is throughout philosophically subtle. the poetic eloquence in which isabella and the duke pay homage to the virtue of chastity, and the many expositions of the corruption with which unchecked sexual passion threatens society, alternate with coarsely comic interludes which suggest the vanity of seeking to efface natural instincts by the coercion of law. there is little in the play that seems designed to recommend it to the court before which it was first performed. but the two emphatic references to a ruler's dislike of mobs, despite his love of his people, were perhaps penned in deferential allusion to james i, whose horror of crowds was notorious. in act i. sc. i. - the duke remarks: i love the people, but do not like to stage me to their eyes. though it do well, i do not relish well their loud applause and aves vehement. nor do i think the man of safe discretion that does affect it. of like tenor is the succeeding speech of angelo (act ii. sc. iv. - ): the general [_i.e._ the public], subject to a well-wish'd king, . . . crowd to his presence, where their untaught love must needs appear offence. 'macbeth.' in 'macbeth,' his 'great epic drama,' which he began in and completed next year, shakespeare employed a setting wholly in harmony with the accession of a scottish king. the story was drawn from holinshed's 'chronicle of scottish history,' with occasional reference, perhaps, to earlier scottish sources. { } the supernatural machinery of the three witches accorded with the king's superstitious faith in demonology; the dramatist lavished his sympathy on banquo, james's ancestor; while macbeth's vision of kings who carry 'twofold balls and treble sceptres' (iv. i. ) plainly adverted to the union of scotland with england and ireland under james's sway. the allusion by the porter (ii. iii. ) to the 'equivocator . . . who committed treason' was perhaps suggested by the notorious defence of the doctrine of equivocation made by the jesuit henry garnett, who was executed early in for his share in the 'gunpowder plot.' the piece was not printed until . it is in its existing shape by far the shortest of all shakespeare's tragedies, ('hamlet' is nearly twice as long) and it is possible that it survives only in an abbreviated acting version. much scenic elaboration characterised the production. dr. simon forman witnessed a performance of the tragedy at the globe in april , and noted that macbeth and banquo entered the stage on horseback, and that banquo's ghost was materially represented (iii. iv. seq.) like 'othello,' the play ranks with the noblest tragedies either of the modern or the ancient world. the characters of hero and heroine--macbeth and his wife--are depicted with the utmost subtlety and insight. in three points 'macbeth' differs somewhat from other of shakespeare's productions in the great class of literature to which it belongs. the interweaving with the tragic story of supernatural interludes in which fate is weirdly personified is not exactly matched in any other of shakespeare's tragedies. in the second place, the action proceeds with a rapidity that is wholly without parallel in the rest of shakespeare's plays. nowhere, moreover, has shakespeare introduced comic relief into a tragedy with bolder effect than in the porter's speech after the murder of duncan (ii. iii. i seq.) the theory that this passage was from another hand does not merit acceptance. { } it cannot, however, be overlooked that the second scene of the first act--duncan's interview with the 'bleeding sergeant'--falls so far below the style of the rest of the play as to suggest that it was an interpolation by a hack of the theatre. the resemblances between thomas middleton's later play of 'the witch' ( ) and portions of 'macbeth' may safely be ascribed to plagiarism on middleton's part. of two songs which, according to the stage directions, were to be sung during the representation of 'macbeth' (iii. v. and iv. i.), only the first line of each is noted there, but songs beginning with the same lines are set out in full in middleton's play; they were probably by middleton, and were interpolated by actors in a stage version of 'macbeth' after its original production. 'king lear.' 'king lear,' in which shakespeare's tragic genius moved without any faltering on titanic heights, was written during , and was produced before the court at whitehall on the night of december of that year. { a} it was entered on the 'stationers' registers' on november , , and two imperfect editions, published by nathaniel butter, appeared in the following year; neither exactly corresponds with the other or with the improved and fairly satisfactory text of the folio. the three versions present three different playhouse transcripts. like its immediate predecessor, 'macbeth,' the tragedy was mainly founded on holinshed's 'chronicle.' the leading theme had been dramatised as early as , but shakespeare's attention was no doubt directed to it by the publication of a crude dramatic adaptation of holinshed's version in under the title of 'the true chronicle history of king leir and his three daughters--gonorill, ragan, and cordella.' shakespeare did not adhere closely to his original. he invested the tale of lear with a hopelessly tragic conclusion, and on it he grafted the equally distressing tale of gloucester and his two sons, which he drew from sidney's 'arcadia.' { b} hints for the speeches of edgar when feigning madness were drawn from harsnet's 'declaration of popish impostures,' . in every act of 'lear' the pity and terror of which tragedy is capable reach their climax. only one who has something of the shakespearean gift of language could adequately characterise the scenes of agony--'the living martyrdom'--to which the fiendish ingratitude of his daughters condemns the abdicated king--'a very foolish, fond old man, fourscore and upward.' the elemental passions burst forth in his utterances with all the vehemence of the volcanic tempest which beats about his defenceless head in the scene on the heath. the brutal blinding of gloucester by cornwall exceeds in horror any other situation that shakespeare created, if we assume that he was not responsible for the like scenes of mutilation in 'titus andronicus.' at no point in 'lear' is there any loosening of the tragic tension. the faithful half-witted lad who serves the king as his fool plays the jesting chorus on his master's fortunes in penetrating earnest and deepens the desolating pathos. 'timon of athens.' although shakespeare's powers showed no sign of exhaustion, he reverted in the year following the colossal effort of 'lear' ( ) to his earlier habit of collaboration, and with another's aid composed two dramas--'timon of athens' and 'pericles.' an extant play on the subject of 'timon of athens' was composed in , { } but there is nothing to show that shakespeare and his coadjutor were acquainted with it. they doubtless derived a part of their story from painter's 'palace of pleasure,' and from a short digression in plutarch's 'life of marc antony,' where antony is described as emulating the life and example of 'timon misanthropos the athenian.' the dramatists may, too, have known a dialogue of lucian entitled 'timon,' which boiardo had previously converted into a comedy under the name of 'il timone.' internal evidence makes it clear that shakespeare's colleague was responsible for nearly the whole of acts iii. and v. but the character of timon himself and all the scenes which he dominates are from shakespeare's pen. timon is cast in the mould of lear. 'pericles.' there seems some ground for the belief that shakespeare's coadjutor in 'timon' was george wilkins, a writer of ill-developed dramatic power, who, in 'the miseries of enforced marriage' ( ), first treated the story that afterwards served for the plot of 'the yorkshire tragedy.' at any rate, wilkins may safely be credited with portions of 'pericles,' a romantic play which can be referred to the same year as 'timon.' shakespeare contributed only acts iii. and v. and parts of iv., which together form a self-contained whole, and do not combine satisfactorily with the remaining scenes. the presence of a third hand, of inferior merit to wilkins, has been suspected, and to this collaborator (perhaps william rowley, a professional reviser of plays who could show capacity on occasion) are best assigned the three scenes of purposeless coarseness which take place in or before a brothel (iv. ii., v. and vi.) from so distributed a responsibility the piece naturally suffers. it lacks homogeneity, and the story is helped out by dumb shows and prologues. but a matured felicity of expression characterises shakespeare's own contributions, narrating the romantic quest of pericles for his daughter marina, who was born and abandoned in a shipwreck. at many points he here anticipated his latest dramatic effects. the shipwreck is depicted (iv. i.) as impressively as in the 'tempest,' and marina and her mother thaisa enjoy many experiences in common with perdita and hermione in the 'winter's tale.' the prologues, which were not by shakespeare, were spoken by an actor representing the mediaeval poet john gower, who in the fourteenth century had versified pericles's story in his 'confessio amantis' under the title of 'apollonius of tyre.' it is also found in a prose translation (from the french), which was printed in lawrence twyne's 'patterne of painfull adventures' in , and again in . after the play was produced, george wilkins, one of the alleged coadjutors, based on it a novel called 'the painful adventures of pericles, prynce of tyre, being the true history of the play of pericles as it was lately presented by the worthy and ancient poet, john gower' ( ). the play was issued as by william shakespeare in a mangled form in , and again in , , , and . it was not included in shakespeare's collected works till . 'antony and cleopatra.' in may edward blount entered in the 'stationers' registers,' by the authority of sir george buc, the licenser of plays, 'a booke called "anthony and cleopatra."' no copy of this date is known, and once again the company probably hindered the publication. the play was first printed in the folio of . the source of the tragedy is the life of antonius in north's 'plutarch.' shakespeare closely followed the historical narrative, and assimilated not merely its temper, but, in the first three acts, much of its phraseology. a few short scenes are original, but there is no detail in such a passage, for example, as enobarbus's gorgeous description of the pageant of cleopatra's voyage up the cydnus to meet antony (ii. ii. seq.), which is not to be matched in plutarch. in the fourth and fifth acts shakespeare's method changes and he expands his material with magnificent freedom. { } the whole theme is in his hands instinct with a dramatic grandeur which lifts into sublimity even cleopatra's moral worthlessness and antony's criminal infatuation. the terse and caustic comments which antony's level-headed friend enobarbus, in the role of chorus, passes on the action accentuate its significance. into the smallest as into the greatest personages shakespeare breathed all his vitalising fire. the 'happy valiancy' of the style, too--to use coleridge's admirable phrase--sets the tragedy very near the zenith of shakespeare's achievement, and while differentiating it from 'macbeth,' 'othello,' and 'lear,' renders it a very formidable rival. 'coriolanus.' 'coriolanus' (first printed from a singularly bad text in ) similarly owes its origin to the biography of the hero in north's 'plutarch,' although shakespeare may have first met the story in painter's 'palace of pleasure' (no. iv.) he again adhered to the text of plutarch with the utmost literalness, and at times--even in the great crises of the action--repeated north's translation word for word. { } but the humorous scenes are wholly of shakespeare's invention, and the course of the narrative was at times slightly changed for purposes of dramatic effect. the metrical characteristics prove the play to have been written about the same period as 'antony and cleopatra,' probably in . in its austere temper it contrasts at all points with its predecessor. the courageous self-reliance of coriolanus's mother, volumnia, is severely contrasted with the submissive gentleness of virgilia, coriolanus's wife. the hero falls a victim to no sensual flaw, but to unchecked pride of caste, and there is a searching irony in the emphasis laid on the ignoble temper of the rabble, who procure his overthrow. by way of foil, the speeches of menenius give dignified expression to the maturest political wisdom. the dramatic interest throughout is as single and as unflaggingly sustained as in 'othello.' xv--the latest plays the latest plays. in 'cymbeline,' 'the winter's tale,' and 'the tempest,' the three latest plays that came from his unaided pen, shakespeare dealt with romantic themes which all end happily, but he instilled into them a pathos which sets them in a category of their own apart alike from comedy and tragedy. the placidity of tone conspicuous in these three plays (none of which was published in his lifetime) has been often contrasted with the storm and stress of the great tragedies that preceded them. but the commonly accepted theory that traces in this change of tone a corresponding development in the author's own emotions ignores the objectivity of shakespeare's dramatic work. all phases of feeling lay within the scope of his intuition, and the successive order in which he approached them bore no explicable relation to substantive incident in his private life or experience. in middle life, his temperament, like that of other men, acquired a larger measure of gravity and his thought took a profounder cast than characterised it in youth. the highest topics of tragedy were naturally more congenial to him, and were certain of a surer handling when he was nearing his fortieth birthday than at an earlier age. the serenity of meditative romance was more in harmony with the fifth decade of his years than with the second or third. but no more direct or definite connection can be discerned between the progressive stages of his work and the progressive stages of his life. to seek in his biography for a chain of events which should be calculated to stir in his own soul all or any of the tempestuous passions that animate his greatest plays is to under-estimate and to misapprehend the resistless might of his creative genius. 'cymbeline.' in 'cymbeline' shakespeare freely adapted a fragment of british history taken from holinshed, interweaving with it a story from boccaccio's 'decameron' (day , novel ix.) ginevra, whose falsely suspected chastity is the theme of the italian novel, corresponds to shakespeare's imogen. her story is also told in the tract called 'westward for smelts,' which had already been laid under contribution by shakespeare in the 'merry wives.' { } the by-plot of the banishment of the lord, belarius, who in revenge for his expatriation kidnapped the king's young sons and brought them up with him in the recesses of the mountains, is shakespeare's invention. although most of the scenes are laid in britain in the first century before the christian era, there is no pretence of historical vraisemblance. with an almost ludicrous inappropriateness the british king's courtiers make merry with technical terms peculiar to calvinistic theology, like 'grace' and 'election.' { } the action, which, owing to the combination of three threads of narrative, is exceptionally varied and intricate, wholly belongs to the region of romance. on imogen, who is the central figure of the play, shakespeare lavished all the fascination of his genius. she is the crown and flower of his conception of tender and artless womanhood. her husband posthumus, her rejected lover cloten, her would-be seducer iachimo are contrasted with her and with each other with consummate ingenuity. the mountainous retreat in which belarius and his fascinating boy-companions play their part has points of resemblance to the forest of arden in 'as you like it;' but life throughout 'cymbeline' is grimly earnest, and the mountains nurture little of the contemplative quiet which characterises existence in the forest of arden. the play contains the splendid lyric 'fear no more the heat of the sun' (iv. ii. seq.) the 'pitiful mummery' of the vision of posthumus (v. iv. seq.) must have been supplied by another hand. dr. forman, the astrologer who kept notes of some of his experiences as a playgoer, saw 'cymbeline' acted either in or . 'a winter's tale.' 'a winter's tale' was seen by dr. forman at the globe on may , , and it appears to have been acted at court on november following. { a} it is based upon greene's popular romance which was called 'pandosto' in the first edition of , and in numerous later editions, but was ultimately in re-christened 'dorastus and fawnia.' shakespeare followed greene, his early foe, in allotting a seashore to bohemia--an error over which ben jonson and many later critics have made merry. { b} a few lines were obviously drawn from that story of boccaccio with which shakespeare had dealt just before in 'cymbeline.' { c} but shakespeare created the high-spirited paulina and the thievish pedlar autolycus, whose seductive roguery has become proverbial, and he invented the reconciliation of leontes, the irrationally jealous husband, with hermione, his wife, whose dignified resignation and forbearance lend the story its intense pathos. in the boy mamilius, the poet depicted childhood in its most attractive guise, while the courtship of florizel and perdita is the perfection of gentle romance. the freshness of the pastoral incident surpasses that of all shakespeare's presentations of country life. 'tempest.' 'the tempest' was probably the latest drama that shakespeare completed. in the summer of a fleet bound for virginia, under the command of sir george somers, was overtaken by a storm off the west indies, and the admiral's ship, the 'sea-venture,' was driven on the coast of the hitherto unknown bermuda isles. there they remained ten months, pleasurably impressed by the mild beauty of the climate, but sorely tried by the hogs which overran the island and by mysterious noises which led them to imagine that spirits and devils had made the island their home. somers and his men were given up for lost, but they escaped from bermuda in two boats of cedar to virginia in may , and the news of their adventures and of their safety was carried to england by some of the seamen in september . the sailors' arrival created vast public excitement in london. at least five accounts were soon published of the shipwreck and of the mysterious island, previously uninhabited by man, which had proved the salvation of the expedition. 'a discovery of the bermudas, otherwise called the ile of divels,' written by sylvester jourdain or jourdan, one of the survivors, appeared as early as october. a second pamphlet describing the disaster was issued by the council of the virginia company in december, and a third by one of the leaders of the expedition, sir thomas gates. shakespeare, who mentions the 'still vexed bermoothes' (i. i. ), incorporated in 'the tempest' many hints from jourdain, gates, and the other pamphleteers. the references to the gentle climate of the island on which prospero is cast away, and to the spirits and devils that infested it, seem to render its identification with the newly discovered bermudas unquestionable. but shakespeare incorporated the result of study of other books of travel. the name of the god setebos whom caliban worships is drawn from eden's translation of magellan's 'voyage to the south pole' (in the 'historie of travell,' ), where the giants of patagonia are described as worshipping a 'great devil they call setebos.' no source for the complete plot has been discovered, but the german writer, jacob ayrer, who died in , dramatised a somewhat similar story in 'die schone sidea,' where the adventures of prospero, ferdinand, ariel, and miranda are roughly anticipated. { a} english actors were performing at nuremberg, where ayrer lived, in and , and may have brought reports of the piece to shakespeare. or perhaps both english and german plays had a common origin in some novel that has not yet been traced. gonzalo's description of an ideal commonwealth (ii. i. seq.) is derived from florio's translation of montaigne's essays ( ), while into prospero's great speech renouncing his practice of magical art (v. i. - ) shakespeare wrought reminiscences of golding's translation of medea's invocation in ovid's 'metamorphoses' (vii. - ). { b} golding's rendering of ovid had been one of shakespeare's best-loved books in youth. a highly ingenious theory, first suggested by tieck, represents 'the tempest' (which, excepting the 'the comedy of errors,' is the shortest of shakespeare's plays) as a masque written to celebrate the marriage of princess elizabeth (like miranda, an island-princess) with the elector frederick. this marriage took place on february , - , and 'the tempest' formed one of a series of nineteen plays which were performed at the nuptial festivities in may . but none of the other plays produced seem to have been new; they were all apparently chosen because they were established favourites at court and on the public stage, and neither in subject-matter nor language bore obviously specific relation to the joyous occasion. but is, in fact, on more substantial ground far too late a date to which to assign the composition of 'the tempest.' according to information which was accessible to malone, the play had 'a being and a name' in the autumn of , and was no doubt written some months before. { } the plot, which revolves about the forcible expulsion of a ruler from his dominions, and his daughter's wooing by the son of the usurper's chief ally, is, moreover, hardly one that a shrewd playwright would deliberately choose as the setting of an official epithalamium in honour of the daughter of a monarch so sensitive about his title to the crown as james i. { a} in the theatre and at court the early representations of 'the tempest' evoked unmeasured applause. the success owed something to the beautiful lyrics which were dispersed through the play and had been set to music by robert johnson, a lutenist in high repute. { b} like its predecessor 'a winter's tale,' 'the tempest' long maintained its first popularity in the theatre, and the vogue of the two pieces drew a passing sneer from ben jonson. in the induction to his 'bartholomew fair,' first acted in , he wrote: 'if there be never a servant-monster in the fair, who can help it he [_i.e._ the author] says? nor a nest of antics. he is loth to make nature afraid in his plays like those that beget tales, tempests, and such like drolleries.' the 'servant-monster' was an obvious allusion to caliban, and 'the nest of antics' was a glance at the satyrs who figure in the sheepshearing feast in 'a winter's tale.' fanciful interpretations of 'the tempest.' nowhere did shakespeare give rein to his imagination with more imposing effect than in 'the tempest.' as in 'midsummer night's dream,' magical or supernatural agencies are the mainsprings of the plot. but the tone is marked at all points by a solemnity and profundity of thought and sentiment which are lacking in the early comedy. the serious atmosphere has led critics, without much reason, to detect in the scheme of 'the tempest' something more than the irresponsible play of poetic fancy. many of the characters have been represented as the outcome of speculation respecting the least soluble problems of human existence. little reliance should be placed on such interpretations. the creation of miranda is the apotheosis in literature of tender, ingenuous girlhood unsophisticated by social intercourse, but shakespeare had already sketched the outlines of the portrait in marina and perdita, the youthful heroines respectively of 'pericles' and 'a winter's tale,' and these two characters were directly developed from romantic stories of girl-princesses, cast by misfortune on the mercies of nature, to which shakespeare had recourse for the plots of the two plays. it is by accident, and not by design, that in ariel appear to be discernible the capabilities of human intellect when detached from physical attributes. ariel belongs to the same world as puck, although he is delineated in the severer colours that were habitual to shakespeare's fully developed art. caliban--ariel's antithesis--did not owe his existence to any conscious endeavour on shakespeare's part to typify human nature before the evolution of moral sentiment. { a} caliban is an imaginary portrait, conceived with matchless vigour and vividness, of the aboriginal savage of the new world, descriptions of whom abounded in contemporary travellers' speech and writings, and universally excited the liveliest curiosity. { b} in prospero, the guiding providence of the romance, who resigns his magic power in the closing scene, traces have been sought of the lineaments of the dramatist himself, who in this play probably bade farewell to the enchanted work of his life. prospero is in the story a scholar-prince of rare intellectual attainments, whose engrossing study of the mysteries of science has given him command of the forces of nature. his magnanimous renunciation of his magical faculty as soon as by its exercise he has restored his shattered fortunes is in perfect accord with the general conception of his just and philosophical temper. any other justification of his final act is superfluous. unfinished plays. the lost play of 'cardenio.' while there is every indication that in shakespeare abandoned dramatic composition, there seems little doubt that he left with the manager of his company unfinished drafts of more than one play which others were summoned at a later date to complete. his place at the head of the active dramatists was at once filled by john fletcher, and fletcher, with some aid possibly from his friend philip massinger, undertook the working up of shakespeare's unfinished sketches. on september , , the publisher humphrey moseley obtained a license for the publication of a play which he described as 'history of cardenio, by fletcher and shakespeare.' this was probably identical with the lost play, 'cardenno,' or 'cardenna,' which was twice acted at court by shakespeare's company in --in may during the princess elizabeth's marriage festivities, and on june before the duke of savoy's ambassador. { a} moseley, whose description may have been fraudulent, { b} failed to publish the piece, and nothing is otherwise known of it with certainty; but it was no doubt a dramatic version of the adventures of the lovelorn cardenio which are related in the first part of 'don quixote' (ch. xxiii.-xxxvii.) cervantes's amorous story, which first appeared in english in thomas shelton's translation in , offers much incident in fletcher's vein. when lewis theobald, the shakespearean critic, brought out his 'double falshood, or the distrest lovers,' in , he mysteriously represented that the play was based on an unfinished and unpublished draft of a play by shakespeare. the story of theobald's piece is the story of cardenio, although the characters are renamed. there is nothing in the play as published by theobald to suggest shakespeare's hand, { a} but theobald doubtless took advantage of a tradition that shakespeare and fletcher had combined to dramatise the cervantic theme. 'two noble kinsmen.' two other pieces, 'the two noble kinsmen' and 'henry viii,' which are attributed to a similar partnership, survive. { b} 'the two noble kinsmen' was first printed in , and was written, according to the title-page, 'by the memorable worthies of their time, mr. john fletcher and mr. william shakespeare, gentlemen.' it was included in the folio of beaumont and fletcher of . on grounds alike of aesthetic criticism and metrical tests, a substantial portion of the play was assigned to shakespeare by charles lamb, coleridge, and dyce. the last included it in his edition of shakespeare. coleridge detected shakespeare's hand in act i., act ii. sc. i., and act iii. sc. i. and ii. in addition to those scenes, act iv. sc. iii. and act v. (except sc. ii.) were subsequently placed to his credit. some recent critics assign much of the alleged shakespearean work to massinger, and they narrow shakespeare's contribution to the first scene (with the opening song, 'roses their sharp spines being gone') and act v. sc. i. and iv. { } an exact partition is impossible, but frequent signs of shakespeare's workmanship are unmistakable. all the passages for which shakespeare can on any showing be held responsible develop the main plot, which is drawn from chaucer's 'knight's tale' of palamon and arcite, and seems to have been twice dramatised previously. a lost play, 'palaemon and arcyte,' by richard edwardes, was acted at court in , and a second piece, called 'palamon and arsett' (also lost), was purchased by henslowe in . the non-shakespearean residue of 'the two noble kinsmen' is disfigured by indecency and triviality, and is of no literary value. 'henry viii.' a like problem is presented by 'henry viii.' the play was nearly associated with the final scene in the history of that theatre which was identified with the triumphs of shakespeare's career. 'henry viii' was in course of performance at the globe theatre on june , , when the firing of some cannon incidental to the performance set fire to the playhouse, which was burned down. the theatre was rebuilt next year, but the new fabric never acquired the fame of the old. sir henry wotton, describing the disaster on july , entitled the piece that was in process of representation at the time as 'all is true representing some principal pieces in the reign of henry viii.' { } the play of 'henry viii' that is commonly allotted to shakespeare is loosely constructed, and the last act ill coheres with its predecessors. the whole resembles an 'historical masque.' it was first printed in the folio of shakespeare's works in , but shows traces of more hands than one. the three chief characters--the king, queen katharine of arragon, and cardinal wolsey--bear clear marks of shakespeare's best workmanship; but only act i. sc. i., act ii. sc. iii. and iv. (katharine's trial), act iii. sc. ii. (except ll. - ), act v. sc. i. can on either aesthetic or metrical grounds be confidently assigned to him. these portions may, according to their metrical characteristics, be dated, like the 'winter's tale,' about . there are good grounds for assigning nearly all the remaining thirteen scenes to the pen of fletcher, with occasional aid from massinger. wolsey's familiar farewell to cromwell (iii. ii. - ) is the only passage the authorship of which excites really grave embarrassment. it recalls at every point the style of fletcher, and nowhere that of shakespeare. but the fletcherian style, as it is here displayed, is invested with a greatness that is not matched elsewhere in fletcher's work. that fletcher should have exhibited such faculty once and once only is barely credible, and we are driven to the alternative conclusion that the noble valediction was by shakespeare, who in it gave proof of his versatility by echoing in a glorified key the habitual strain of fletcher, his colleague and virtual successor. james spedding's theory that fletcher hastily completed shakespeare's unfinished draft for the special purpose of enabling the company to celebrate the marriage of princess elizabeth and the elector palatine, which took place on february , - , seems fanciful. during may , according to an extant list, nineteen plays were produced at court in honour of the event, but 'henry viii' is not among them. { a} the conjecture that massinger and fletcher alone collaborated in 'henry viii' (to the exclusion of shakespeare altogether) does not deserve serious consideration. { b} xvi--the close of life plays at court in . actor-friends. the concluding years of shakespeare's life ( - ) were mainly passed at stratford. it is probable that in he disposed of his shares in the globe and blackfriars theatres. he owned none at the date of his death. but until he paid frequent visits to london, where friends in sympathy with his work were alone to be found. his plays continued to form the staple of court performances. in may , during the princess elizabeth's marriage festivities, heming, shakespeare's former colleague, produced at whitehall no fewer than seven of his plays, viz. 'much ado,' 'tempest,' 'winter's tale,' 'sir john falstaff' (_i.e._ 'merry wives'), 'othello,' 'julius caesar,' 'and hotspur' (doubtless 'henry iv'). { } of his actor-friends, one of the chief, augustine phillips, had died in , leaving by will 'to my fellowe, william shakespeare, a thirty-shillings piece of gold.' with burbage, heming, and condell his relations remained close to the end. burbage, according to a poetic elegy, made his reputation by creating the leading parts in shakespeare's greatest tragedies. hamlet, othello, and lear were roles in which he gained especial renown. but burbage and shakespeare were popularly credited with co-operation in less solemn enterprises. they were reputed to be companions in many sportive adventures. the sole anecdote of shakespeare that is positively known to have been recorded in his lifetime relates that burbage, when playing richard iii, agreed with a lady in the audience to visit her after the performance; shakespeare, overhearing the conversation, anticipated the actor's visit, and met burbage on his arrival with the quip that 'william the conqueror was before richard the third.' { a} such gossip possibly deserves little more acceptance than the later story, in the same key, which credits shakespeare with the paternity of sir william d'avenant. the latter was baptised at oxford on march , , as the son of john d'avenant, the landlord of the crown inn, where shakespeare lodged in his journeys to and from stratford. the story of shakespeare's parental relation to d'avenant was long current in oxford, and was at times complacently accepted by the reputed son. shakespeare is known to have been a welcome guest at john d'avenant's house, and another son, robert, boasted of the kindly notice which the poet took of him as a child. { b} it is safer to adopt the less compromising version which makes shakespeare the godfather of the boy william instead of his father. but the antiquity and persistence of the scandal belie the assumption that shakespeare was known to his contemporaries as a man of scrupulous virtue. ben jonson and drayton--the latter a warwickshire man--seem to have been shakespeare's closest literary friends in his latest years. final settlement at stratford. at stratford, in the words of nicholas rowe, 'the latter part of shakespeare's life was spent, as all men of good sense will wish theirs may be, in ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends.' as a resident in the town, he took a full share of social and civic responsibilities. on october , , he stood chief godfather to william, son of henry walker, a mercer and alderman. on september , , when he had finally settled in new place, his name appeared in the margin of a folio page of donors (including all the principal inhabitants of stratford) to a fund that was raised 'towards the charge of prosecuting the bill in parliament for the better repair of the highways.' domestic affairs. meanwhile his own domestic affairs engaged some of his attention. of his two surviving children--both daughters--the eldest, susanna, had married, on june , , john hall ( - ), a rising physician of puritan leanings, and in the following february there was born the poet's only granddaughter, elizabeth hall. on september , , the poet's mother was buried in the parish church, and on february , , his third brother richard. on july , , mrs. hall preferred, with her father's assistance, a charge of slander against one lane in the ecclesiastical court at worcester; the defendant, who had apparently charged the lady with illicit relations with one ralph smith, did not appear, and was excommunicated. [picture: signature on purchase-deed] purchase of a house in blackfriars. in the same year ( ), when on a short visit to london, shakespeare invested a small sum of money in a new property. this was his last investment in real estate. he then purchased a house, the ground-floor of which was a haberdasher's shop, with a yard attached. it was situated within six hundred feet of the blackfriars theatre--on the west side of st. andrew's hill, formerly termed puddle hill or puddle dock hill, in the near neighbourhood of what is now known as ireland yard. the former owner, henry walker, a musician, had bought the property for pounds in . shakespeare in agreed to pay him pounds. the deeds of conveyance bear the date of march in that year. { } next day, on march , shakespeare executed another deed (now in the british museum) which stipulated that pounds of the purchase-money was to remain on mortgage until the following michaelmas. the money was unpaid at shakespeare's death. in both purchase-deed and mortgage-deed shakespeare's signature was witnessed by (among others) henry lawrence, 'servant' or clerk to robert andrewes, the scrivener who drew the deeds, and lawrence's seal, bearing his initials 'h. l.,' was stamped in each case on the parchment-tag, across the head of which shakespeare wrote his name. in all three documents--the two indentures and the mortgage-deed--shakespeare is described as 'of stratford-on-avon, in the countie of warwick, gentleman.' there is no reason to suppose that he acquired the house for his own residence. he at once leased the property to john robinson, already a resident in the neighbourhood. [picture: signature on mortgage-deed] attempt to enclose the stratford common fields. with puritans and puritanism shakespeare was not in sympathy, { } and he could hardly have viewed with unvarying composure the steady progress that puritanism was making among his fellow-townsmen. nevertheless a preacher, doubtless of puritan proclivities, was entertained at shakespeare's residence, new place, after delivering a sermon in the spring of . the incident might serve to illustrate shakespeare's characteristic placability, but his son-in-law hall, who avowed sympathy with puritanism, was probably in the main responsible for the civility. { a} in july john combe, a rich inhabitant of stratford, died and left pounds to shakespeare. the legend that shakespeare alienated him by composing some doggerel on his practice of lending money at ten or twelve per cent. seems apocryphal, although it is quoted by aubrey and accepted by rowe. { b} combe's death involved shakespeare more conspicuously than before in civic affairs. combe's heir william no sooner succeeded to his father's lands than he, with a neighbouring owner, arthur mannering, steward of lord-chancellor ellesmere (who was ex-officio lord of the manor), attempted to enclose the common fields, which belonged to the corporation of stratford, about his estate at welcombe. the corporation resolved to offer the scheme a stout resistance. shakespeare had a twofold interest in the matter by virtue of his owning the freehold of acres at welcombe and old stratford, and as joint owner--now with thomas greene, the town clerk--of the tithes of old stratford, welcombe, and bishopton. his interest in his freeholds could not have been prejudicially affected, but his interest in the tithes might be depreciated by the proposed enclosure. shakespeare consequently joined with his fellow-owner greene in obtaining from combe's agent replingham in october a deed indemnifying both against any injury they might suffer from the enclosure. but having thus secured himself against all possible loss, shakespeare threw his influence into combe's scale. in november he was on a last visit to london, and greene, whose official position as town clerk compelled him to support the corporation in defiance of his private interests, visited him there to discuss the position of affairs. on december , , the corporation in formal meeting drew up a letter to shakespeare imploring him to aid them. greene himself sent to the dramatist 'a note of inconveniences [to the corporation that] would happen by the enclosure.' but although an ambiguous entry of a later date (september ) in the few extant pages of greene's ungrammatical diary has been unjustifiably tortured into an expression of disgust on shakespeare's part at combe's conduct, { } it is plain that, in the spirit of his agreement with combe's agent, he continued to lend combe his countenance. happily combe's efforts failed, and the common lands remain unenclosed. death. burial. at the beginning of shakespeare's health was failing. he directed francis collins, a solicitor of warwick, to draft his will, but, though it was prepared for signature on january , it was for the time laid aside. on february , , shakespeare's younger daughter, judith, married, at stratford parish church, thomas quincy, four years her junior, a son of an old friend of the poet. the ceremony took place apparently without public asking of the banns and before a license was procured. the irregularity led to the summons of the bride and bridegroom to the ecclesiastical court at worcester and the imposition of a fine. according to the testimony of john ward, the vicar, shakespeare entertained at new place his two friends, michael drayton and ben jonson, in this same spring of , and 'had a merry meeting,' but 'itt seems drank too hard, for shakespeare died of a feavour there contracted.' a popular local legend, which was not recorded till , { a} credited shakespeare with engaging at an earlier date in a prolonged and violent drinking bout at bidford, a neighbouring village, { b} but his achievements as a hard drinker may be dismissed as unproven. the cause of his death is undetermined, but probably his illness seemed likely to take a fatal turn in march, when he revised and signed the will that had been drafted in the previous january. on tuesday, april , he died at the age of fifty-two. { c} on thursday, april (o.s.), the poet was buried inside stratford church, near the northern wall of the chancel, in which, as part-owner of the tithes, and consequently one of the lay-rectors, he had a right of interment. hard by was the charnel-house, where bones dug up from the churchyard were deposited. over the poet's grave were inscribed the lines: good friend, for jesus' sake forbeare to dig the dust enclosed heare; bleste be the man that spares these stones, and curst be he that moves my bones. according to one william hall, who described a visit to stratford in , { } these verses were penned by shakespeare to suit 'the capacity of clerks and sextons, for the most part a very ignorant set of people.' had this curse not threatened them, hall proceeds, the sexton would not have hesitated in course of time to remove shakespeare's dust to 'the bone-house.' as it was, the grave was made seventeen feet deep, and was never opened, even to receive his wife, although she expressed a desire to be buried with her husband. [picture: signatures from each sheet of the will] the will. bequest to his wife. shakespeare's will, the first draft of which was drawn up before january , , received many interlineations and erasures before it was signed in the ensuing march. francis collins, the solicitor of warwick, and thomas russell, 'esquier,' of stratford, were the overseers; it was proved by john hall, the poet's son-in-law and joint-executor with mrs. hall, in london on june following. the religious exordium is in conventional phraseology, and gives no clue to shakespeare's personal religious opinions. what those opinions were, we have neither the means nor the warrant for discussing. but while it is possible to quote from the plays many contemptuous references to the puritans and their doctrines, we may dismiss as idle gossip davies's irresponsible report that 'he dyed a papist.' the name of shakespeare's wife was omitted from the original draft of the will, but by an interlineation in the final draft she received his second best bed with its furniture. no other bequest was made her. several wills of the period have been discovered in which a bedstead or other article of household furniture formed part of a wife's inheritance, but none except shakespeare's is forthcoming in which a bed forms the sole bequest. at the same time the precision with which shakespeare's will accounts for and assigns to other legatees every known item of his property refutes the conjecture that he had set aside any portion of it under a previous settlement or jointure with a view to making independent provision for his wife. her right to a widow's dower--_i.e._ to a third share for life in freehold estate--was not subject to testamentary disposition, but shakespeare had taken steps to prevent her from benefiting--at any rate to the full extent--by that legal arrangement. he had barred her dower in the case of his latest purchase of freehold estate, viz. the house at blackfriars. { } such procedure is pretty conclusive proof that he had the intention of excluding her from the enjoyment of his possessions after his death. but, however plausible the theory that his relations with her were from first to last wanting in sympathy, it is improbable that either the slender mention of her in the will or the barring of her dower was designed by shakespeare to make public his indifference or dislike. local tradition subsequently credited her with a wish to be buried in his grave; and her epitaph proves that she inspired her daughters with genuine affection. probably her ignorance of affairs and the infirmities of age (she was past sixty) combined to unfit her in the poet's eyes for the control of property, and, as an act of ordinary prudence, he committed her to the care of his elder daughter, who inherited, according to such information as is accessible, some of his own shrewdness, and had a capable adviser in her husband. his heiress. legacies to friends. this elder daughter, susanna hall, was, according to the will, to become mistress of new place, and practically of all the poet's estate. she received (with remainder to her issue in strict entail) new place, all the land, barns, and gardens at and near stratford (except the tenement in chapel lane), and the house in blackfriars, london, while she and her husband were appointed executors and residuary legatees, with full rights over nearly all the poet's household furniture and personal belongings. to their only child and the testator's granddaughter, or 'niece,' elizabeth hall, was bequeathed the poet's plate, with the exception of his broad silver and gilt bowl, which was reserved for his younger daughter, judith. to his younger daughter he also left, with the tenement in chapel lane (in remainder to the elder daughter), pounds in money, of which pounds, her marriage portion, was to be paid within a year, and another pounds to be paid to her if alive three years after the date of the will. { a} to the poet's sister, joan hart, whose husband, william hart, predeceased the testator by only six days, he left, besides a contingent reversionary interest in judith's pecuniary legacy, his wearing apparel, pounds in money, a life interest in the henley street property, with pounds for each of her three sons, william, thomas, and michael. to the poor of stratford he gave pounds, and to mr. thomas combe (apparently a brother of william, of the enclosure controversy) his sword. to each of his stratford friends, hamlett sadler, william reynoldes, anthony nash, and john nash, and to each of his 'fellows' (_i.e._ theatrical colleagues in london), john heming, richard burbage, and henry condell, he left xxvj_s_. viij_d_., with which to buy memorial rings. his godson, william walker, received 'xx' shillings in gold. the tomb. before { b} an elaborate monument, by a london sculptor of dutch birth, gerard johnson, was erected to shakespeare's memory in the chancel of the parish church. { } it includes a half-length bust, depicting the dramatist on the point of writing. the fingers of the right hand are disposed as if holding a pen, and under the left hand lies a quarto sheet of paper. the inscription, which was apparently by a london friend, runs: judicio pylium, genio socratem, arte maronem, terra tegit, populus maeret, olympus habet. stay passenger, why goest thou by so fast? read, if thou canst, whom envious death hath plast within this monument; shakespeare with whome quick nature dide; whose name doth deck ys tombe far more than cost; sith all yt he hath writt leaves living art but page to serve his witt. obiit ano. doi aetatis die ap. personal character. at the opening of shakespeare's career chettle wrote of his 'civil demeanour' and of the reports of 'his uprightness of dealing which argues his honesty.' in --when near the zenith of his fame--he was apostrophised as 'sweet master shakespeare' in the play of 'the return from parnassus,' and that adjective was long after associated with his name. in one anthony scoloker in a poem called 'daiphantus' bestowed on him the epithet 'friendly.' after the close of his career jonson wrote of him: 'i loved the man and do honour his memory, on this side idolatry as much as any. he was, indeed, honest and of an open and free nature.' { a} no other contemporary left on record any definite impression of shakespeare's personal character, and the 'sonnets,' which alone of his literary work can be held to throw any illumination on a personal trait, mainly reveal him in the light of one who was willing to conform to all the conventional methods in vogue for strengthening the bonds between a poet and a great patron. his literary practices and aims were those of contemporary men of letters, and the difference in the quality of his work and theirs was due not to conscious endeavour on his part to act otherwise than they, but to the magic and involuntary working of his genius. he seemed unconscious of his marvellous superiority to his professional comrades. the references in his will to his fellow-actors, and the spirit in which (as they announce in the first folio) they approached the task of collecting his works after his death, corroborate the description of him as a sympathetic friend of gentle, unassuming mien. the later traditions brought together by aubrey depict him as 'very good company, and of a very ready and pleasant smooth wit,' and there is much in other early posthumous references to suggest a genial, if not a convivial, temperament, linked to a quiet turn for good-humoured satire. but bohemian ideals and modes of life had no genuine attraction for shakespeare. his extant work attests his 'copious' and continuous industry, { b} and with his literary power and sociability there clearly went the shrewd capacity of a man of business. pope had just warrant for the surmise that he for gain not glory winged his roving flight, and grew immortal in his own despite. his literary attainments and successes were chiefly valued as serving the prosaic end of providing permanently for himself and his daughters. his highest ambition was to restore among his fellow-townsmen the family repute which his father's misfortunes had imperilled. ideals so homely are reckoned rare among poets, but chaucer and sir walter scott, among writers of exalted genius, vie with shakespeare in the sobriety of their personal aims and in the sanity of their mental attitude towards life's ordinary incidents. xvii--survivors and descendants the survivors. mistress judith quiney. shakespeare's widow died on august , , at the age of sixty-seven, and was buried near her husband inside the chancel two days later. some affectionately phrased latin elegiacs--doubtless from dr. hall's pen--were inscribed on a brass plate fastened to the stone above her grave. { } the younger daughter, judith, resided with her husband, thomas quiney, at the cage, a house which he leased in bridge street from till . there he carried on the trade of a vintner, and took part in municipal affairs, acting as a councillor from and as chamberlain in - and - ; but after his affairs grew embarrassed, and he left stratford late in for london, where he seems to have died a few months later. of his three sons by judith, the eldest, shakespeare (baptised on november , ), was buried in stratford churchyard on may , ; the second son, richard (baptised on february , - ), was buried on january , - ; and the third son, thomas (baptised on january , - ), was buried on february , - . judith survived her husband, sons, and sister, dying at stratford on february , - , in her seventy-seventh year. mistress susannah hall. the poet's elder daughter, mrs. susanna hall, resided at new place till her death. her sister judith alienated to her the chapel place tenement before , but that, with the interest in the stratford tithes, she soon disposed of. her husband, dr. john hall, died on november , . in james cooke, a surgeon in attendance on some royalist troops stationed at stratford, visited mrs. hall and examined manuscripts in her possession, but they were apparently of her husband's, not of her father's, composition. { } from july to , , queen henrietta maria, while journeying from newark to oxford, was billeted on mrs. hall at new place for three days, and was visited there by prince rupert. mrs. hall was buried beside her husband in stratford churchyard on july , , and a rhyming inscription, describing her as 'witty above her sex,' was engraved on her tombstone. the whole inscription ran: 'heere lyeth ye body of svsanna, wife to john hall, gent. ye davghter of william shakespeare, gent. she deceased ye th of jvly, a.d. , aged . 'witty above her sexe, but that's not all, wise to salvation was good mistress hall, something of shakespere was in that, but this wholy of him with whom she's now in blisse. then, passenger, ha'st ne're a teare, to weepe with her that wept with all? that wept, yet set herselfe to chere them up with comforts cordiall. her love shall live, her mercy spread, when thou hast ne're a teare to shed.' the last descendant. mrs. hall's only child, elizabeth, was the last surviving descendant of the poet. in april she married her first husband, thomas nash of stratford (_b._ ), who studied at lincoln's inn, was a man of property, and, dying childless at new place on april , , was buried in stratford church next day. at billesley, a village four miles from stratford, on june , , mrs. nash married, as a second husband, a widower, john bernard or barnard of abington, northamptonshire, who was knighted by charles ii in . about the same date she seems to have abandoned new place for her husband's residence at abington. dying without issue, she was buried there on february , - . her husband survived her four years, and was buried beside her. { } on her mother's death in lady barnard inherited under the poet's will the land near stratford, new place, the house at blackfriars, and (on the death of the poet's sister, joan hart, in ) the houses in henley street, while her father, dr. hall, left her in a house at acton with a meadow. she sold the blackfriars house, and apparently the stratford land, before . by her will, dated january - , and proved in the following march, she left small bequests to the daughters of thomas hathaway, of the family of her grandmother, the poet's wife. the houses in henley street passed to her cousin, thomas hart, the grandson of the poet's sister joan, and they remained in the possession of thomas's direct descendants till (the male line expired on the death of john hart in ). by her will lady barnard also ordered new place to be sold, and it was purchased on may , , by sir edward walker, through whose daughter barbara, wife of sir john clopton, it reverted to the clopton family. sir john rebuilt it in . on the death of his son hugh in , it was bought by the rev. francis gastrell (_d._ ), who demolished the new building in . { } shakespeare's brothers. of shakespeare's three brothers, only one, gilbert, seems to have survived him. edmund, the youngest brother, 'a player,' was buried at st. saviour's church, southwark, 'with a fore-noone knell of the great bell,' on december , ; he was in his twenty-eighth year. richard, john shakespeare's third son, died at stratford in february , aged . 'gilbert shakespeare adolescens,' who was buried at stratford on february , - , was doubtless son of the poet's next brother, gilbert; the latter, having nearly completed his forty-sixth year, could scarcely be described as 'adolescens;' his death is not recorded, but according to oldys he survived to a patriarchal age. xviii--autographs, portraits, and memorials spelling of the poet's surname. autograph signatures. much controversy has arisen over the spelling of the poet's surname. it has been proved capable of four thousand variations. { } the name of the poet's father is entered sixty-six times in the council books of stratford, and is spelt in sixteen ways. the commonest form is 'shaxpeare.' five autographs of the poet of undisputed authenticity are extant: his signature to the indenture relating to the purchase of the property in blackfriars, dated march , - (since in the guildhall library); his signature to the mortgage-deed relating to the same purchase, dated march , - (since in the british museum), and the three signatures on the three sheets of his will, dated march , - (now at somerset house). in all the signatures some of the letters are represented by recognised signs of abbreviation. the signature to the first document is 'william shakspere,' though in all other portions of the deed the name is spelt 'shakespeare.' the signature to the second document has been interpreted both as shakspere and shakspeare. the ink of the first signature in the will has now faded almost beyond decipherment, but that it was 'shakspere' may be inferred from the facsimile made by steevens in . the second and third signatures to the will, which are also somewhat difficult to decipher, have been read both as shakspere and shakspeare; but a close examination suggests that whatever the second signature may be, the third is 'shakespeare.' shakspere is the spelling of the alleged autograph in the british museum copy of florio's 'montaigne,' but the genuineness of that signature is disputable. { } shakespeare was the form adopted in the full signature appended to the dedicatory epistles of the 'venus and adonis' of and the 'lucrece' of , volumes which were produced under the poet's supervision. it is the spelling adopted on the title-pages of the majority of contemporary editions of his works, whether or not produced under his supervision. it is adopted in almost all the published references to the poet during the seventeenth century. it appears in the grant of arms in , in the license to the players of , and in the text of all the legal documents relating to the poet's property. the poet, like most of his contemporaries, acknowledged no finality on the subject. according to the best authority, he spelt his surname in two ways when signing his will. there is consequently no good ground for abandoning the form shakespeare, which is sanctioned by legal and literary custom. { } shakespeare's portraits. the stratford bust. the 'stratford' portrait. aubrey reported that shakespeare was 'a handsome well-shap't man,' but no portrait exists which can be said with absolute certainty to have been executed during his lifetime, although one has recently been discovered with a good claim to that distinction. only two of the extant portraits are positively known to have been produced within a short period after his death. these are the bust in stratford church and the frontispiece to the folio of . each is an inartistic attempt at a posthumous likeness. there is considerable discrepancy between the two; their main points of resemblance are the baldness on the top of the head and the fulness of the hair about the ears. the bust was by gerard johnson or janssen, who was a dutch stonemason or tombmaker settled in southwark. it was set up in the church before , and is a rudely carved specimen of mortuary sculpture. there are marks about the forehead and ears which suggest that the face was fashioned from a death mask, but the workmanship is at all points clumsy. the round face and eyes present a heavy, unintellectual expression. the bust was originally coloured, but in malone caused it to be whitewashed. in the whitewash was removed, and the colours, as far as traceable, restored. the eyes are light hazel, the hair and beard auburn. there have been numberless reproductions, both engraved and photographic. it was first engraved--very imperfectly--for rowe's edition in ; then by vertue for pope's edition of ; and by gravelot for hanmer's edition in . a good engraving by william ward appeared in . a phototype and a chromo-phototype, issued by the new shakspere society, are the best reproductions for the purposes of study. the pretentious painting known as the 'stratford' portrait, and presented in by w. o. hunt, town clerk of stratford, to the birthplace museum, where it is very prominently displayed, was probably painted from the bust late in the eighteenth century; it lacks either historic or artistic interest. droeshout's engraving. the engraved portrait--nearly a half-length--which was printed on the title-page of the folio of , was by martin droeshout. on the opposite page lines by ben jonson congratulate 'the graver' on having satisfactorily 'hit' the poet's 'face.' jonson's testimony does no credit to his artistic discernment; the expression of countenance, which is very crudely rendered, is neither distinctive nor lifelike. the face is long and the forehead high; the top of the head is bald, but the hair falls in abundance over the ears. there is a scanty moustache and a thin tuft under the lower lip. a stiff and wide collar, projecting horizontally, conceals the neck. the coat is closely buttoned and elaborately bordered, especially at the shoulders. the dimensions of the head and face are disproportionately large as compared with those of the body. in the unique proof copy which belonged to halliwell-phillipps (now with his collection in america) the tone is clearer than in the ordinary copies, and the shadows are less darkened by cross-hatching and coarse dotting. the engraver, martin droeshout, belonged to a flemish family of painters and engravers long settled in london, where he was born in . he was thus fifteen years old at the time of shakespeare's death in , and it is consequently improbable that he had any personal knowledge of the dramatist. the engraving was doubtless produced by droeshout very shortly before the publication of the first folio in , when he had completed his twenty-second year. it thus belongs to the outset of the engraver's professional career, in which he never achieved extended practice or reputation. a copy of the droeshout engraving, by william marshall, was prefixed to shakespeare's 'poems' in , and william faithorne made another copy for the frontispiece of the edition of 'the rape of lucrece' published in . the 'droeshout' painting. there is little doubt that young droeshout in fashioning his engraving worked from a painting, and there is a likelihood that the original picture from which the youthful engraver worked has lately come to light. as recently as mr. edgar flower, of stratford-on-avon, discovered in the possession of mr. h. c. clements, a private gentleman with artistic tastes residing at peckham rye, a portrait alleged to represent shakespeare. the picture, which was faded and somewhat worm-eaten, dated beyond all doubt from the early years of the seventeenth century. it was painted on a panel formed of two planks of old elm, and in the upper left-hand corner was the inscription 'willm shakespeare, .' mr. clements purchased the portrait of an obscure dealer about , and knew nothing of its history, beyond what he set down on a slip of paper when he acquired it. the note that he then wrote and pasted on the box in which he preserved the picture, ran as follows: 'the original portrait of shakespeare, from which the now famous droeshout engraving was taken and inserted in the first collected edition of his works, published in , being seven years after his death. the picture was painted nine [_vere_ seven] years before his death, and consequently sixteen [_vere_ fourteen] years before it was published. . . . the picture was publicly exhibited in london seventy years ago, and many thousands went to see it.' in all its details and in its comparative dimensions, especially in the disproportion between the size of the head and that of the body, this picture is identical with the droeshout engraving. though coarsely and stiffly drawn, the face is far more skilfully presented than in the engraving, and the expression of countenance betrays some artistic sentiment which is absent from the print. connoisseurs, including sir edward poynter, mr. sidney colvin, and mr. lionel cust, have almost unreservedly pronounced the picture to be anterior in date to the engraving, and they have reached the conclusion that in all probability martin droeshout directly based his work upon the painting. influences of an early seventeenth-century flemish school are plainly discernible in the picture, and it is just possible that it is the production of an uncle of the young engraver martin droeshout, who bore the same name as his nephew, and was naturalised in this country on january , , when he was described as a 'painter of brabant.' although the history of the portrait rests on critical conjecture and on no external contemporary evidence, there seems good ground for regarding it as a portrait of shakespeare painted in his lifetime--in the forty-fifth year of his age. no other pictorial representation of the poet has equally serious claims to be treated as contemporary with himself, and it therefore presents features of unique interest. on the death of its owner, mr. clements, in , the painting was purchased by mrs. charles flower, and was presented to the memorial picture gallery at stratford, where it now hangs. no attempt at restoration has been made. a photogravure forms the frontispiece to the present volume. { } of the same type as the droeshout engraving, although less closely resembling it than the picture just described, is the 'ely house' portrait (now the property of the birthplace trustees at stratford), which formerly belonged to thomas turton, bishop of ely, and it is inscribed 'ae. x. .' { a} this painting is of high artistic value. the features are of a far more attractive and intellectual cast than in either the droeshout painting or engraving, and the many differences in detail raise doubts as to whether the person represented can have been intended for shakespeare. experts are of opinion that the picture was painted early in the seventeenth century. early in charles ii's reign lord chancellor clarendon added a portrait of shakespeare to his great gallery in his house in st. james's. mention is made of it in a letter from the diarist john evelyn to his friend samuel pepys in , but clarendon's collection was dispersed at the end of the seventeenth century and the picture has not been traced. { b} later portraits. of the numerous extant paintings which have been described as portraits of shakespeare, only the 'droeshout' portrait and the ely house portrait, both of which are at stratford, bear any definable resemblance to the folio engraving or the bust in the church. { c} in spite of their admitted imperfections, those presentments can alone be held indisputably to have been honestly designed to depict the poet's features. they must be treated as the standards of authenticity in judging of the genuineness of other portraits claiming to be of an early date. the 'chandos' portrait. of other alleged portraits which are extant, the most famous and interesting is the 'chandos' portrait, now in the national portrait gallery. its pedigree suggests that it was intended to represent the poet, but numerous and conspicuous divergences from the authenticated likenesses show that it was painted from fanciful descriptions of him some years after his death. the face is bearded, and rings adorn the ears. oldys reported that it was from the brush of burbage, shakespeare's fellow-actor, who had some reputation as a limner, { } and that it had belonged to joseph taylor, an actor contemporary with shakespeare. these rumours are not corroborated; but there is no doubt that it was at one time the property of d'avenant, and that it subsequently belonged successively to the actor betterton and to mrs. barry the actress. in sir godfrey kneller made a copy as a gift for dryden. after mrs barry's death in it was purchased for forty guineas by robert keck, a barrister of the inner temple. at length it reached the hands of one john nichols, whose daughter married james brydges, third duke of chandos. in due time the duke became the owner of the picture, and it subsequently passed, through chandos's daughter, to her husband, the first duke of buckingham and chandos, whose son, the second duke of buckingham and chandos, sold it with the rest of his effects at stowe in , when it was purchased by the earl of ellesmere. the latter presented it to the nation. edward capell many years before presented a copy by ranelagh barret to trinity college, cambridge, and other copies are attributed to sir joshua reynolds and ozias humphrey ( ). it was engraved by george vertue in for pope's edition ( ), and often later, one of the best engravings being by vandergucht. a good lithograph from a tracing by sir george scharf was published by the trustees of the national portrait gallery in . the baroness burdett-coutts purchased in a portrait of similar type, which is said, somewhat doubtfully, to have belonged to john lord lumley, who died in , and to have formed part of a collection of portraits of the great men of his day at his house, lumley castle, durham. its early history is not positively authenticated, and it may well be an early copy of the chandos portrait. the 'lumley' painting was finely chromo-lithographed in by vincent brooks. the 'jansen' portrait. the so-called 'jansen' or janssens portrait, which belongs to lady guendolen ramsden, daughter of the duke of somerset, and is now at her residence at bulstrode, was first doubtfully identified about , when in the possession of charles jennens. janssens did not come to england before shakespeare's death. it is a fine portrait, but is unlike any other that has been associated with the dramatist. an admirable mezzotint by richard earlom was issued in . the 'felton' portrait. the 'felton' portrait, a small head on a panel, with a high and very bald forehead (belonging since to the baroness burdett-coutts), was purchased by s. felton of drayton, shropshire, in of j. wilson, the owner of the shakespeare museum in pall mall; it bears a late inscription, 'gul. shakespear , r. b.' [_i.e._ richard burbage]. it was engraved by josiah boydell for george steevens in , and by james neagle for isaac reed's edition in . fuseli declared it to be the work of a dutch artist, but the painters romney and lawrence regarded it as of english workmanship of the sixteenth century. steevens held that it was the original picture whence both droeshout and marshall made their engravings, but there are practically no points of resemblance between it and the prints. [picture: plaster-cast of bust of william shakespeare] the 'soest' portrait. the 'soest' or 'zoust' portrait--in the possession of sir john lister-kaye of the grange, wakefield--was in the collection of thomas wright, painter, of covent garden in , when john simon engraved it. soest was born twenty-one years after shakespeare's death, and the portrait is only on fanciful grounds identified with the poet. a chalk drawing by john michael wright, obviously inspired by the soest portrait, is the property of sir arthur hodgson of clopton house, and is on loan at the memorial gallery, stratford. miniatures. a well-executed miniature by hilliard, at one time in the possession of william somerville the poet, and now the property of sir stafford northcote, bart., was engraved by agar for vol. ii. of the 'variorum shakespeare' of , and in wivell's 'inquiry,' . it has little claim to attention as a portrait of the dramatist. another miniature (called the 'auriol' portrait), of doubtful authenticity, formerly belonged to mr. lumsden propert, and a third is at warwick castle. the garrick club bust. a bust, said to be of shakespeare, was discovered in bricked up in a wall in spode and copeland's china warehouse in lincoln's inn fields. the warehouse had been erected on the site of the duke's theatre, which was built by d'avenant in . the bust, which is of black terra cotta, and bears traces of italian workmanship, is believed to have adorned the proscenium of the duke's theatre. it was acquired by the surgeon william clift, from whom it passed to clift's son-in-law, richard (afterwards sir richard) owen the naturalist. the latter sold it to the duke of devonshire, who presented it in to the garrick club, after having two copies made in plaster. one of these copies is now in the shakespeare memorial gallery at stratford, and from it an engraving has been made for reproduction in this volume. alleged death-mask. the kesselstadt death-mask was discovered by dr. ludwig becker, librarian at the ducal palace at darmstadt, in a rag-shop at mayence in . the features resemble those of an alleged portrait of shakespeare (dated ) which dr. becker purchased in . this picture had long been in the possession of the family of count francis von kesselstadt of mayence, who died in . dr. becker brought the mask and the picture to england in , and richard owen supported the theory that the mask was taken from shakespeare's face after death, and was the foundation of the bust in stratford church. the mask was for a long time in dr. becker's private apartments at the ducal palace, darmstadt. { a} the features are singularly attractive; but the chain of evidence which would identify them with shakespeare is incomplete. { b} memorials in sculpture. a monument, the expenses of which were defrayed by public subscription, was set up in the poets' corner in westminster abbey in . pope and the earl of burlington were among the promoters. the design was by william kent, and the statue of shakespeare was executed by peter scheemakers. { } another statue was executed by roubiliac for garrick, who bequeathed it to the british museum in . a third statue, freely adapted from the works of scheemakers and roubiliac, was executed for baron albert grant and was set up by him as a gift to the metropolis in leicester square, london, in . a fourth statue (by mr. j. a. q. ward) was placed in in the central park, new york. a fifth in bronze, by m. paul fournier, which was erected in paris in at the expense of an english resident, mr. w. knighton, stands at the point where the avenue de messine meets the boulevard haussmann. a sixth memorial in sculpture, by lord ronald gower, the most elaborate and ambitious of all, stands in the garden of the shakespeare memorial buildings at stratford-on-avon, and was unveiled in ; shakespeare is seated on a high pedestal; below, at each side of the pedestal, stand figures of four of shakespeare's principal characters: lady macbeth, hamlet, prince hal, and sir john falstaff. at stratford, the birthplace, which was acquired by the public in and converted into a museum, is with anne hathaway's cottage (which was acquired by the birthplace trustees in ), a place of pilgrimage for visitors from all parts of the globe. the , persons who visited it in and the , persons who visited it in represented over forty nationalities. the site of the demolished new place, with the gardens, was also purchased by public subscription in , and now forms a public garden. of a new memorial building on the river-bank at stratford, consisting of a theatre, picture-gallery, and library, the foundation-stone was laid on april , . the theatre was opened exactly two years later, when 'much ado about nothing' was performed, with helen faucit (lady martin) as beatrice and barry sullivan as benedick. performances of shakespeare's plays have since been given annually during april. the library and picture-gallery were opened in . { } a memorial shakespeare library was opened at birmingham on april , , to commemorate the tercentenary of , and, although destroyed by fire in , was restored in ; it now possesses nearly ten thousand volumes relating to shakespeare. xix--bibliography quartos of the poems in the poet's lifetime. only two of shakespeare's works--his narrative poems 'venus and adonis' and 'lucrece'--were published with his sanction and co-operation. these poems were the first specimens of his work to appear in print, and they passed in his lifetime through a greater number of editions than any of his plays. at the time of his death in there had been printed in quarto seven editions of his 'venus and adonis' ( , , , , , and two in ), and five editions of his 'lucrece' ( , , , , ). there was only one lifetime edition of the 'sonnets,' thorpe's surreptitious venture of ; { } but three editions were issued of the piratical 'passionate pilgrim,' which was fraudulently assigned to shakespeare by the publisher william jaggard, although it contained only a few occasional poems by him ( , no copy known, and ). posthumous quartos of the poems. of posthumous editions in quarto of the two narrative poems in the seventeenth century, there were two of 'lucrece'--viz. in ('the sixth edition') and in (with john quarles's 'banishment of tarquin')--and there were as many as six editions of 'venus' ( , , , two in , and ), making thirteen editions in all in forty-three years. no later editions of these two poems were issued in the seventeenth century. they were next reprinted together with 'the passionate pilgrim' in , and thenceforth they usually figured, with the addition of the 'sonnets,' in collected editions of shakespeare's works. the 'poems' of . a so-called first collected edition of shakespeare's 'poems' in (london, by t. cotes for i. benson) was mainly a reissue of the 'sonnets,' but it omitted six (nos. xviii., xix., xliii., lvi., lxxv., and lxxvi.) and it included the twenty poems of 'the passionate pilgrim,' with some other pieces by other authors. marshall's copy of the droeshout engraving of formed the frontispiece. there were prefatory poems by leonard digges and john warren, as well as an address 'to the reader' signed with the initials of the publisher. there shakespeare's 'sonnets' were described as 'serene, clear, and elegantly plain; such gentle strains as shall re-create and not perplex your brain. no intricate or cloudy stuff to puzzle intellect. such as will raise your admiration to his praise.' a chief point of interest in the volume of 'poems' of is the fact that the 'sonnets' were printed then in a different order from that which was followed in the volume of . thus the poem numbered lxvii. in the original edition opens the reissue, and what has been regarded as the crucial poem, beginning two loves i have of comfort and despair, which was in numbered cxliv., takes the thirty-second place in . in most cases a more or less fanciful general title is placed in the second edition at the head of each sonnet, but in a few instances a single title serves for short sequences of two or three sonnets which are printed as independent poems continuously without spacing. the poems drawn from 'the passionate pilgrim' are intermingled with the 'sonnets,' together with extracts from thomas heywood's 'general history of women,' although no hint is given that they are not shakespeare's work. the edition concludes with three epitaphs on shakespeare and a short section entitled 'an addition of some excellent poems to those precedent by other gentlemen.' the volume is of great rarity. an exact reprint was published in . quartos of the plays in the poet's lifetime. of shakespeare's plays there were in print in only sixteen (all in quarto), or eighteen if we include the 'contention,' the first draft of ' henry vi' ( and ), and 'the true tragedy,' the first draft of ' henry vi' ( and ). these sixteen quartos were publishers' ventures, and were undertaken without the co-operation of the author. two of the plays, published thus, reached five editions before , viz. 'richard iii' ( , , , , ) and ' henry iv' ( , , , , ). three reached four editions, viz. 'richard ii' ( , , supplying the deposition scene for the first time, ); 'hamlet' ( imperfect, , , ), and 'romeo and juliet' ( imperfect, , two in ). two reached three editions, viz. 'henry v' ( imperfect, , and ) and 'pericles' (two in , ). four reached two editions, viz. 'midsummer night's dream' (both in ); 'merchant of venice' (both in ); 'lear' (both in ); and 'troilus and cressida' (both in ). five achieved only one edition, viz. 'love's labour's lost' ( ), ' henry iv' ( ), 'much ado' ( ), 'titus' ( ), 'merry wives' ( imperfect). posthumous quartos of the plays. three years after shakespeare's death--in --there appeared a second edition of 'merry wives' (again imperfect) and a fourth of 'pericles.' 'othello' was first printed posthumously in ( to), and in the same year sixth editions of 'richard iii' and 'i henry iv' appeared. { } the largest collections of the original quartos--each of which survives in only four, five, or six copies--are in the libraries of the duke of devonshire, the british museum, and trinity college, cambridge, and in the bodleian library. { } all the quartos were issued in shakespeare's day at sixpence each. the first folio. the publishing syndicate. in the first attempt was made to give the world a complete edition of shakespeare's plays. two of the dramatist's intimate friends and fellow-actors, john heming and henry condell, were nominally responsible for the venture, but it seems to have been suggested by a small syndicate of printers and publishers, who undertook all pecuniary responsibility. chief of the syndicate was william jaggard, printer since to the city of london, who was established in business in fleet street at the east end of st. dunstan's church. as the piratical publisher of 'the passionate pilgrim' he had long known the commercial value of shakespeare's work. in he had extended his business by purchasing the stock and rights of a rival pirate, james roberts, who had printed the quarto editions of the 'merchant of venice' and 'midsummer night's dream' in and the complete quarto of 'hamlet' in . roberts had enjoyed for nearly twenty years the right to print 'the players' bills,' or programmes, and he made over that privilege to jaggard with his other literary property. it is to the close personal relations with the playhouse managers into which the acquisition of the right of printing 'the players' bill' brought jaggard after that the inception of the scheme of the 'first folio' may safely be attributed. jaggard associated his son isaac with the enterprise. they alone of the members of the syndicate were printers. their three partners were publishers or booksellers only. two of these, william aspley and john smethwick, had already speculated in plays of shakespeare. aspley had published with another in the 'second part of henry iv' and 'much ado about nothing,' and in half of thorpe's impression of shakespeare's 'sonnets.' smethwick, whose shop was in st. dunstan's churchyard, fleet street, near jaggard's, had published in two late editions of 'romeo and juliet' and one of 'hamlet.' edward blount, the fifth partner, was an interesting figure in the trade, and, unlike his companions, had a true taste in literature. he had been a friend and admirer of christopher marlowe, and had actively engaged in the posthumous publication of two of marlowe's poems. he had published that curious collection of mystical verse entitled 'love's martyr,' one poem in which, 'a poetical essay of the phoenix and the turtle,' was signed 'william shakespeare.' { } the first folio was doubtless printed in jaggard's printing office near st. dunstan's church. upon blount probably fell the chief labour of seeing the work through the press. it was in progress throughout , and had so far advanced by november , , that on that day edward blount and isaac (son of william) jaggard obtained formal license from the stationers' company to publish sixteen of the twenty hitherto unprinted plays that it was intended to include. the pieces, whose approaching publication for the first time was thus announced, were of supreme literary interest. the titles ran: 'the tempest,' 'the two gentlemen,' 'measure for measure,' 'comedy of errors,' 'as you like it,' 'all's well,' 'twelfth night,' 'winter's tale,' ' henry vi,' 'henry viii,' 'coriolanus,' 'timon,' 'julius caesar,' 'macbeth,' 'antony and cleopatra,' and 'cymbeline.' four other hitherto unprinted dramas for which no license was sought figured in the volume, viz. 'king john,' ' and henry vi,' and the 'taming of the shrew;' but each of these plays was based by shakespeare on a play of like title which had been published at an earlier date, and the absence of a license was doubtless due to an ignorant misconception on the past either of the stationers' company's officers or of the editors of the volume as to the true relations subsisting between the old pieces and the new. the only play by shakespeare that had been previously published and was not included in the first folio was 'pericles.' the prefatory matter. thirty-six pieces in all were thus brought together. the volume consisted of nearly one thousand double-column pages and was sold at a pound a copy. steevens estimated that the edition numbered copies. the book was described on the title-page as published by edward blount and isaac jaggard, and in the colophon as printed at the charges of 'w. jaggard, i. smithweeke, and w. aspley,' as well as of blount. { } on the title-page was engraved the droeshout portrait. commendatory verses were supplied by ben jonson, hugh holland, leonard digges, and i. m., perhaps jasper maine. the dedication was addressed to the brothers william herbert, earl of pembroke, the lord chamberlain, and philip herbert, earl of montgomery, and was signed by shakespeare's friends and fellow-actors, heming and condell. the same signatures were appended to a succeeding address 'to the great variety of readers.' in both addresses the two actors made pretension to a larger responsibility for the enterprise than they really incurred, but their motives in identifying themselves with the venture were doubtless irreproachable. they disclaimed (they wrote) 'ambition either of selfe-profit or fame in undertaking the design,' being solely moved by anxiety to 'keepe the memory of so worthy a friend and fellow alive as was our shakespeare.' 'it had bene a thing we confesse worthie to haue bene wished,' they inform the reader, 'that the author himselfe had liued to haue set forth and ouerseen his owne writings. . . .' a list of contents follows the address to the readers. the value of the text. the title-page states that all the plays were printed 'according to the true originall copies.' the dedicators wrote to the same effect. 'as where (before) we were abus'd with diuerse stolne and surreptitious copies, maimed and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of incurious impostors that expos'd them: even those are now offer'd to your view cur'd and perfect in their limbes, and all the rest absolute in their numbers as he conceived them.' there is no doubt that the whole volume was printed from the acting versions in the possession of the manager of the company with which shakespeare had been associated. but it is doubtful if any play were printed exactly as it came from his pen. the first folio text is often markedly inferior to that of the sixteen pre-existent quartos, which, although surreptitiously and imperfectly printed, followed playhouse copies of far earlier date. from the text of the quartos the text of the first folio differs invariably, although in varying degrees. the quarto texts of 'love's labour's lost,' 'midsummer night's dream,' and 'richard ii,' for example, differ very largely and always for the better from the folio texts. on the other hand, the folio repairs the glaring defects of the quarto versions of 'the merry wives of windsor' and of 'henry v.' in the case of twenty of the plays in the first folio no quartos exist for comparison, and of these twenty plays, 'coriolanus,' 'all's well,' and 'macbeth' present a text abounding in corrupt passages. the order of the plays. the plays are arranged under three headings--'comedies,' 'histories,' and 'tragedies'--and each division is separately paged. the arrangement of the plays in each division follows no principle. the comedy section begins with the 'tempest' and ends with the 'winter's tale.' the histories more justifiably begin with 'king john' and end with 'henry viii.' the tragedies begin with 'troilus and cressida' and end with 'cymbeline.' this order has been usually followed in subsequent collective editions. the typography. as a specimen of typography the first folio is not to be commended. there are a great many contemporary folios of larger bulk far more neatly and correctly printed. it looks as though jaggard's printing office were undermanned. the misprints are numerous and are especially conspicuous in the pagination. the sheets seem to have been worked off very slowly, and corrections were made while the press was working, so that the copies struck off later differ occasionally from the earlier copies. one mark of carelessness on the part of the compositor or corrector of the press, which is common to all copies, is that 'troilus and cressida,' though in the body of the book it opens the section of tragedies, is not mentioned at all in the table of contents, and the play is unpaged except on its second and third pages, which bear the numbers and . unique copies. three copies are known which are distinguished by more interesting irregularities, in each case unique. the copy in the lenox library in new york includes a cancel duplicate of a leaf of 'as you like it' (sheet r of the comedies), and the title-page bears the date instead of ; but it is suspected that the figures were tampered with outside the printing office. { } samuel butler, successively headmaster of shrewsbury and bishop of lichfield and coventry, possessed a copy of the first folio in which a proof leaf of 'hamlet' was bound up with the corrected leaf. { a} the sheldon copy. the most interesting irregularity yet noticed appears in one of the two copies of the book belonging to the baroness burdett-coutts. this copy is known as the sheldon folio, having formed in the seventeenth century part of the library of ralph sheldon of weston manor in the parish of long compton, warwickshire. { b} in the sheldon folio the opening page of 'troilus and cressida,' of which the recto or front is occupied by the prologue and the verso or back by the opening lines of the text of the play, is followed by a superfluous leaf. on the recto or front of the unnecessary leaf { c} are printed the concluding lines of 'romeo and juliet' in place of the prologue to 'troilus and cressida.' at the back or verso are the opening lines of 'troilus and cressida' repeated from the preceding page. the presence of a different ornamental headpiece on each page proves that the two are not taken from the same setting of the type. at a later page in the sheldon copy the concluding lines of 'romeo and juliet' are duly reprinted at the close of the play, and on the verso or back of the leaf, which supplies them in their right place, is the opening passage, as in other copies, of 'timon of athens.' these curious confusions attest that while the work was in course of composition the printers or editors of the volume at one time intended to place 'troilus and cressida,' with the prologue omitted, after 'romeo and juliet.' the last page of 'romeo and juliet' is in all copies numbered , an obvious misprint for ; the first leaf of 'troilus' is paged ; the second and third pages of 'troilus' are numbered and . it was doubtless suddenly determined while the volume was in the press to transfer 'troilus and cressida' to the head of the tragedies from a place near the end, but the numbers on the opening pages which indicated its first position were clumsily retained, and to avoid the extensive typographical corrections that were required by the play's change of position, its remaining pages were allowed to go forth unnumbered. { } estimated number of extant copies. it is difficult to estimate how many copies survive of the first folio, which is intrinsically the most valuable volume in the whole range of english literature, and extrinsically is only exceeded in value by some half-dozen volumes of far earlier date and of exceptional typographical interest. it seems that about copies have been traced within the past century. of these fewer than twenty are in a perfect state, that is, with the portrait _printed_ (_not inlaid_) _on_ the title-page, and the flyleaf facing it, with all the pages succeeding it, intact and uninjured. (the flyleaf contains ben jonson's verses attesting the truthfulness of the portrait.) excellent copies in this enviable state are in the grenville library at the british museum, and in the libraries of the duke of devonshire, the earl of crawford, the baroness burdett-coutts, and mr. a. h. huth. of these probably the finest and cleanest is the 'daniel' copy belonging to the baroness burdett-coutts. it measures inches by . , and was purchased by its present owner for pounds s. at the sale of george daniel's library in . some twenty more copies are defective in the preliminary pages, but are unimpaired in other respects. there remain about a hundred copies which have sustained serious damage at various points. reprints of the first folio. a reprint of the first folio unwarrantably purporting to be exact was published in - . { } the best reprint was issued in three parts by lionel booth in , , and . the valuable photo-zincographic reproduction undertaken by sir henry james, under the direction of howard staunton, was issued in sixteen folio parts between february and october . a reduced photographic facsimile, too small to be legible, appeared in , with a preface by halliwell-phillipps. the second folio. the third folio. the fourth folio. the second folio edition was printed in by thomas cotes for robert allot and william aspley, each of whose names figures as publisher on different copies. to allot blount had transferred, on november , , his rights in the sixteen plays which were first licensed for publication in . { a} the second folio was reprinted from the first; a few corrections were made in the text, but most of the changes were arbitrary and needless. charles i's copy is at windsor, and charles ii's at the british museum. the 'perkins folio,' now in the duke of devonshire's possession, in which john payne collier introduced forged emendations, was a copy of that of . { b} the third folio--for the most part a faithful reprint of the second--was first published in by peter chetwynde, who reissued it next year with the addition of seven plays, six of which have no claim to admission among shakespeare's works. 'unto this impression,' runs the title-page of , 'is added seven playes never before printed in folio, viz.: pericles, prince of tyre. the london prodigall. the history of thomas ld. cromwell. sir john oldcastle, lord cobham. the puritan widow. a yorkshire tragedy. the tragedy of locrine.' the six spurious pieces which open the volume were attributed by unprincipled publishers to shakespeare in his lifetime. fewer copies of the third folio are reputed to be extant than of the second or fourth, owing to the destruction of many unsold impressions in the fire of london in . the fourth folio, printed in 'for h. herringman, e. brewster, r. chiswell, and r. bentley,' reprints the folio of without change except in the way of modernising the spelling; it repeats the spurious pieces. eighteenth-century editors. since some two hundred independent editions of the collected works have been published in great britain and ireland, and many thousand editions of separate plays. the eighteenth-century editors of the collected works endeavoured with varying degrees of success to purge the text of the numerous incoherences of the folios, and to restore, where good taste or good sense required it, the lost text of the contemporary quartos. it is largely owing to a due co-ordination of the results of the efforts of the eighteenth-century editors by their successors in the present century that shakespeare's work has become intelligible to general readers unversed in textual criticism, and has won from them the veneration that it merits. { } nicholas rowe, - . nicholas rowe, a popular dramatist of queen anne's reign, and poet laureate to george i., was the first critical editor of shakespeare. he produced an edition of his plays in six octavo volumes in . a new edition in eight volumes followed in , and another hand added a ninth volume which included the poems. rowe prefixed a valuable life of the poet embodying traditions which were in danger of perishing without a record. his text followed that of the fourth folio. the plays were printed in the same order, except that he transferred the spurious pieces from the beginning to the end. rowe did not compare his text with that of the first folio or of the quartos, but in the case of 'romeo and juliet' he met with an early quarto while his edition was passing through the press, and inserted at the end of the play the prologue which is met with only in the quartos. he made a few happy emendations, some of which coincide accidentally with the readings of the first folio; but his text is deformed by many palpable errors. his practical experience as a playwright induced him, however, to prefix for the first time a list of _dramatis personae_ to each play, to divide and number acts and scenes on rational principles, and to mark the entrances and exits of the characters. spelling, punctuation, and grammar he corrected and modernised. alexander pope, - . the poet pope was shakespeare's second editor. his edition in six quarto volumes was completed in . the poems, edited by dr. george sewell, with an essay on the rise and progress of the stage, and a glossary, appeared in a seventh volume. pope had few qualifications for the task, and the venture was a commercial failure. in his preface pope, while he fully recognised shakespeare's native genius, deemed his achievement deficient in artistic quality. pope claimed to have collated the text of the fourth folio with that of all preceding editions, and although his work indicates that he had access to the first folio and some of the quartos, it is clear that his text was based on that of rowe. his innovations are numerous, and are derived from 'his private sense and conjecture,' but they are often plausible and ingenious. he was the first to indicate the place of each new scene, and he improved on rowe's subdivision of the scenes. a second edition of pope's version in ten duodecimo volumes appeared in with sewell's name on the title-page as well as pope's. there were few alterations in the text, though a preliminary table supplied a list of twenty-eight quartos. other editions followed in and . the last was printed at garrick's suggestion at birmingham from baskerville's types. lewis theobald, - . pope found a rigorous critic in lewis theobald, who, although contemptible as a writer of original verse and prose, proved himself the most inspired of all the textual critics of shakespeare. pope savagely avenged himself on his censor by holding him up to ridicule as the hero of the 'dunciad.' theobald first displayed his critical skill in in a volume which deserves to rank as a classic in english literature. the title runs 'shakespeare restored, or a specimen of the many errors as well committed as unamended by mr. pope in his late edition of this poet, designed not only to correct the said edition but to restore the true reading of shakespeare in all the editions ever yet publish'd.' there at page appears theobald's great emendation in shakespeare's account of falstaff's death (henry v, ii. iii. ): 'his nose was as sharp as a pen and a' babbled of green fields,' in place of the reading in the old copies, 'his nose was as sharp as a pen and a table of green fields.' in theobald brought out his edition of shakespeare in seven volumes. in it reached a second issue. a third edition was published in . others are dated and . it is stated that , copies in all were sold. theobald made the first folio the basis of his text, although he failed to adopt all the correct readings of that version, but over corrections or emendations which he made in his edition have become part and parcel of the authorised canon. theobald's principles of textual criticism were as enlightened as his practice was triumphant. 'i ever labour,' he wrote to warburton, 'to make the smallest deviation that i possibly can from the text; never to alter at all where i can by any means explain a passage with sense; nor ever by any emendation to make the author better when it is probable the text came from his own hands.' theobald has every right to the title of the porson of shakespearean criticism. { a} the following are favourable specimens of his insight. in 'macbeth' (i. vii. ) for 'this bank and school of time,' he substituted the familiar 'bank and shoal of time.' in 'antony and cleopatra' the old copies (v. ii. ) made cleopatra say of antony: for his bounty, there was no winter in't; an anthony it was that grew the more by reaping. for the gibberish 'an anthony it was,' theobald read 'an autumn 'twas,' and thus gave the lines true point and poetry. a third notable instance, somewhat more recondite, is found in 'coriolanus' (ii. i. - ) where menenius asks the tribunes in the first folio version 'what harm can your besom conspectuities [_i.e._ vision or eyes] glean out of this character?' theobald replaced the meaningless epithet 'besom' by 'bisson' (_i.e._ purblind), a recognised elizabethan word which shakespeare had already employed in 'hamlet' (ii. ii. ). { b} sir thomas hanmer, - . the fourth editor was sir thomas hammer, a country gentleman without much literary culture, but possessing a large measure of mother wit. he was speaker in the house of commons for a few months in , and retiring soon afterwards from public life devoted his leisure to a thorough-going scrutiny of shakespeare's plays. his edition, which was the earliest to pretend to typographical beauty, was printed at the oxford university press in in six quarto volumes. it contained a number of good engravings by gravelot after designs by francis hayman, and was long highly valued by book collectors. no editor's name was given. in forming his text, hanmer depended exclusively on his own ingenuity. he made no recourse to the old copies. the result was a mass of common-sense emendations, some of which have been permanently accepted. { } hanmer's edition was reprinted in - . bishop warburton, - . in bishop warburton produced a revised version of pope's edition in eight volumes. warburton was hardly better qualified for the task than pope, and such improvements as he introduced are mainly borrowed from theobald and hanmer. on both these critics he arrogantly and unjustly heaped abuse in his preface. the bishop was consequently criticised with appropriate severity for his pretentious incompetence by many writers; among them, by thomas edwards, whose 'supplement to warburton's edition of shakespeare' first appeared in , and, having been renamed 'the canons of criticism' next year in the third edition, passed through as many as seven editions by . dr. johnson, - . dr. johnson, the sixth editor, completed his edition in eight volumes in , and a second issue followed three years later. although he made some independent collation of the quartos, his textual labours were slight, and his verbal notes show little close knowledge of sixteenth and seventeenth century literature. but in his preface and elsewhere he displays a genuine, if occasionally sluggish, sense of shakespeare's greatness, and his massive sagacity enabled him to indicate convincingly shakespeare's triumphs of characterisation. edward capell, - . the seventh editor, edward capell, advanced on his predecessors in many respects. he was a clumsy writer, and johnson declared, with some justice, that he 'gabbled monstrously,' but his collation of the quartos and the first and second folios was conducted on more thorough and scholarly methods than those of any of his predecessors not excepting theobald. his industry was untiring, and he is said to have transcribed the whole of shakespeare ten times. capell's edition appeared in ten small octavo volumes in . he showed himself well versed in elizabethan literature in a volume of notes which appeared in , and in three further volumes, entitled 'notes, various readings, and the school of shakespeare,' which were not published till , two years after his death. the last volume, 'the school of shakespeare,' consisted of 'authentic extracts from divers english books that were in print in that author's time,' to which was appended 'notitia dramatica; or, tables of ancient plays (from their beginning to the restoration of charles ii).' george steevens, - . george steevens, whose saturnine humour involved him in a lifelong series of literary quarrels with rival students of shakespeare, made invaluable contributions to shakespearean study. in he reprinted twenty of the plays from the quartos. soon afterwards he revised johnson's edition without much assistance from the doctor, and his revision, which embodied numerous improvements, appeared in ten volumes in . it was long regarded as the standard version. steevens's antiquarian knowledge alike of elizabethan history and literature was greater than that of any previous editor; his citations of parallel passages from the writings of shakespeare's contemporaries, in elucidation of obscure words and phrases, have not been exceeded in number or excelled in aptness by any of his successors. all commentators of recent times are more deeply indebted in this department of their labours to steevens than to any other critic. but he lacked taste as well as temper, and excluded from his edition shakespeare's sonnets and poems, because, he wrote, 'the strongest act of parliament that could be framed would fail to compel readers into their service.' { } the second edition of johnson and steevens's version appeared in ten volumes in . the third edition, published in ten volumes in , was revised by steevens's friend, isaac reed ( - ), a scholar of his own type. the fourth and last edition, published in steevens's lifetime, was prepared by himself in fifteen volumes in . as he grew older, he made some reckless changes in the text, chiefly with the unhallowed object of mystifying those engaged in the same field. with a malignity that was not without humour, he supplied, too, many obscene notes to coarse expressions, and he pretended that he owed his indecencies to one or other of two highly respectable clergymen, richard amner and john collins, whose surnames were in each instance appended. he had known and quarrelled with both. such proofs of his perversity justified the title which gifford applied to him of 'the puck of commentators.' edmund malone, - . edmund malone, who lacked steevens's quick wit and incisive style, was a laborious and amiable archaeologist, without much ear for poetry or delicate literary taste. he threw abundance of new light on shakespeare's biography, and on the chronology and sources of his works, while his researches into the beginnings of the english stage added a new chapter of first-rate importance to english literary history. to malone is due the first rational 'attempt to ascertain the order in which the plays attributed to shakespeare were written.' his earliest results on the topic were contributed to steevens's edition of . two years later he published, as a supplement to steevens's work, two volumes containing a history of the elizabethan stage, with reprints of arthur brooke's 'romeus and juliet,' shakespeare's poems, and the plays falsely ascribed to him in the third and fourth folios. a quarrel with steevens followed, and was never closed. in malone issued 'a dissertation on the three parts of king henry vi,' tending to show that those plays were not originally written by shakespeare. in appeared his edition of shakespeare in ten volumes, the first in two parts. variorum editions. what is known among booksellers as the 'first variorum' edition of shakespeare was prepared by steevens's friend, isaac reed, after steevens's death. it was based on a copy of steevens's work of , which had been enriched with numerous manuscript additions, and it embodied the published notes and prefaces of preceding editors. it was published in twenty-one volumes in . the 'second variorum' edition, which was mainly a reprint of the first, was published in twenty-one volumes in . the 'third variorum' was prepared for the press by james boswell the younger, the son of dr. johnson's biographer. it was based on malone's edition of , but included massive accumulations of notes left in manuscript by malone at his death. malone had been long engaged on a revision of his edition, but died in , before it was completed. boswell's 'malone,' as the new work is often called, appeared in twenty-one volumes in . it is the most valuable of all collective editions of shakespeare's works, but the three volumes of preliminary essays on shakespeare's biography and writings, and the illustrative notes brought together in the final volume, are confusedly arranged and are unindexed; many of the essays and notes break off abruptly at the point at which they were left at malone's death. a new 'variorum' edition, on an exhaustive scale, was undertaken by mr. h. howard furness of philadelphia, and eleven volumes have appeared since ('romeo and juliet,' 'macbeth,' 'hamlet,' vols., 'king lear,' 'othello,' 'merchant of venice,' 'as you like it,' 'tempest,' 'midsummer night's dream,' and 'winter's tale'). nineteenth-century editors. of nineteenth-century editors who have prepared collective editions of shakespeare's work with original annotations those who have most successfully pursued the great traditions of the eighteenth century are alexander dyce, howard staunton, nikolaus delius, and the cambridge editors william george clark ( - ) and dr. aldis wright. alexander dyce, - . howard staunton, - . the cambridge edition, - . alexander dyce was almost as well read as steevens in elizabethan literature, and especially in the drama of the period, and his edition of shakespeare in nine volumes, which was first published in , has many new and valuable illustrative notes and a few good textual emendations, as well as a useful glossary; but dyce's annotations are not always adequate, and often tantalise the reader by their brevity. howard staunton's edition first appeared in three volumes between and . he also was well read in contemporary literature and was an acute textual critic. his introductions bring together much interesting stage history. nikolaus delius's edition was issued at elberfeld in seven volumes between and . delius's text is formed on sound critical principles and is to be trusted thoroughly. a fifth edition in two volumes appeared in . the cambridge edition, which first appeared in nine volumes between and , exhaustively notes the textual variations of all preceding editions, and supplies the best and fullest _apparatus criticus_. (of new editions, one dated is also in nine volumes, and another, dated , in forty volumes.) other nineteenth-century editions. other editors of the complete works of shakespeare of the nineteenth century whose labours, although of some value, present fewer distinctive characteristics are:--william harness ( , vols.); samuel weller singer ( , vols., printed at the chiswick press for william pickering, illustrated by stothard and others; reissued in with essays by william watkiss lloyd); charles knight, with discursive notes and pictorial illustrations by f. w. fairholt and others ('pictorial edition,' vols., including biography and the doubtful plays, - , often reissued under different designations); bryan waller procter, _i.e._ barry cornwall ( - , vols.); john payne collier ( - , vols.; another edition, vols., privately printed, , to); samuel phelps, the actor ( - , vols.; another edition, - ); j. o. halliwell ( - , vols. folio, with an encyclopaedic collection of annotations of earlier editors and pictorial illustrations); richard grant white (boston, u.s.a., - , vols.); w. j. rolfe (new york, - , vols.); the rev. h. n. hudson (the harvard edition, boston, , vols.) the latest complete annotated editions published in this country are 'the henry irving shakespeare,' edited by f. a. marshall and others--especially useful for notes on stage history ( vols. - )--and 'the temple shakespeare,' concisely edited by mr. israel gollancz ( vols. mo, - ). of one-volume editions of the unannotated text, the best are the globe, edited by w. g. clark and dr. aldis wright ( , and constantly reprinted--since with a new and useful glossary); the leopold ( , from the text of delius, with preface by dr. furnivall); and the oxford, edited by mr. w. j. craig ( ). xx--posthumous reputation shakespeare defied at every stage in his career the laws of the classical drama. he rode roughshod over the unities of time, place, and action. there were critics in his day who zealously championed the ancient rules, and viewed with distrust any infringement of them. but the force of shakespeare's genius--its revelation of new methods of dramatic art--was not lost on the lovers of the ancient ways; and even those who, to assuage their consciences, entered a formal protest against his innovations, soon swelled the chorus of praise with which his work was welcomed by contemporary playgoers, cultured and uncultured alike. the unauthorised publishers of 'troilus and cressida' in faithfully echoed public opinion when they prefaced the work with the note: 'this author's comedies are so framed to the life that they serve for the most common commentaries of all actions of our lives, showing such a dexterity and power of wit that the most displeased with plays are pleased with his comedies. . . . so much and such savoured salt of wit is in his comedies that they seem for their height of pleasure to be born in the sea that brought forth venus.' ben jonson's tribute. anticipating the final verdict, the editors of the first folio wrote, seven years after shakespeare's death: 'these plays have had their trial already and stood out all appeals.' { a} ben jonson, the staunchest champion of classical canons, noted that shakespeare 'wanted art,' but he allowed him, in verses prefixed to the first folio, the first place among all dramatists, including those of greece and rome, and claimed that all europe owed him homage: triumph, my britain, thou hast one to show, to whom all scenes [_i.e._ stages] of europe homage owe. he was not of an age, but for all time. in milton penned in like strains an epitaph on 'the great heir of fame:' what needs my shakespeare for his honoured bones the labour of an age in piled stones? or that his hallowed reliques should be hid under a star-ypointing pyramid? dear son of memory, great heir of fame, what need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? thou in our wonder and astonishment hast built thyself a lifelong monument. a writer of fine insight who veiled himself under the initials i. m. s. { b} contributed to the second folio of a splendid eulogy. the opening lines declare 'shakespeare's freehold' to have been a mind reflecting ages past, whose clear and equal surface can make things appear distant a thousand years, and represent them in their lively colours' just extent. it was his faculty to outrun hasty time, retrieve the fates, roll back the heavens, blow ope the iron gates of death and lethe, where (confused) lie great heaps of ruinous mortality. milton and i. m. s. were followed within ten years by critics of tastes so varied as the dramatist of domesticity thomas heywood, the gallant lyrist sir john suckling, the philosophic and 'ever-memorable' john hales of eton, and the untiring versifier of the stage and court, sir william d'avenant. before hales is said to have triumphantly established, in a public dispute held with men of learning in his rooms at eton, the proposition that 'there was no subject of which any poet ever writ but he could produce it much better done in shakespeare.' { } leonard digges (in the edition of the 'poems') asserted that every revival of shakespeare's plays drew crowds to pit, boxes, and galleries alike. at a little later date, shakespeare's plays were the 'closet companions' of charles i's 'solitudes.' { a} - . dryden's view. after the restoration public taste in england veered towards the french and classical dramatic models. { b} shakespeare's work was subjected to some unfavourable criticism as the product of nature to the exclusion of art, but the eclipse proved more partial and temporary than is commonly admitted. the pedantic censure of thomas rymer on the score of shakespeare's indifference to the classical canons attracted attention, but awoke in england no substantial echo. in his 'short view of tragedy' ( ) rymer mainly concentrated his attention on 'othello,' and reached the eccentric conclusion that it was 'a bloody farce without salt or savour.' in pepys's eyes 'the tempest' had 'no great wit,' and 'midsummer night's dream' was 'the most insipid and ridiculous play;' yet this exacting critic witnessed thirty-six performances of twelve of shakespeare's plays between october , , and february , - , seeing 'hamlet' four times, and 'macbeth,' which he admitted to be 'a most excellent play for variety,' nine times. dryden, the literary dictator of the day, repeatedly complained of shakespeare's inequalities--'he is the very janus of poets.' { a} but in almost the same breath dryden declared that shakespeare was held in as much veneration among englishmen as aeschylus among the athenians, and that 'he was the man who of all modern and perhaps ancient poets had the largest and most comprehensive soul. . . . when he describes anything, you more than see it--you feel it too.' { b} in , when sir godfrey kneller presented dryden with a copy of the chandos portrait of shakespeare, the poet acknowledged the gift thus: to sir godfrey kneller. _shakespear_, thy gift, i place before my sight; with awe, i ask his blessing ere i write; with reverence look on his majestick face; proud to be less, but of his godlike race. his soul inspires me, while thy praise i write, and i, like _teucer_, under _ajax_ fight. writers of charles ii's reign of such opposite temperaments as margaret cavendish, duchess of newcastle, and sir charles sedley vigorously argued for shakespeare's supremacy. as a girl the sober duchess declares she fell in love with shakespeare. in her 'sociable letters,' which were published in , she enthusiastically, if diffusely, described how shakespeare creates the illusion that he had been 'transformed into every one of those persons he hath described,' and suffered all their emotions. when she witnessed one of his tragedies she felt persuaded that she was witnessing an episode in real life. 'indeed,' she concludes, 'shakespeare had a clear judgment, a quick wit, a subtle observation, a deep apprehension, and a most eloquent elocution.' the profligate sedley, in a prologue to the 'wary widdow,' a comedy by one higden, produced in , apostrophised shakespeare thus: shackspear whose fruitfull genius, happy wit was fram'd and finisht at a lucky hit the pride of nature, and the shame of schools, born to create, and not to learn from rules. restoration adaptations. many adaptations of shakespeare's plays were contrived to meet current sentiment of a less admirable type. but they failed efficiently to supersede the originals. dryden and d'avenant converted 'the tempest' into an opera ( ). d'avenant single-handed adapted 'the two noble kinsmen' ( ) and 'macbeth' ( ). dryden dealt similarly with 'troilus' ( ); thomas duffett with 'the tempest' ( ); shadwell with 'timon' ( ); nahum tate with 'richard ii' ( ), 'lear' ( ), and 'coriolanus' ( ); john crowne with 'henry vi' ( ); d'urfey with 'cymbeline' ( ); ravenscroft with 'titus andronicus' ( ); otway with 'romeo and juliet' ( ), and john sheffield, duke of buckingham, with 'julius caesar' ( ). but during the same period the chief actor of the day, thomas betterton, won his spurs as the interpreter of shakespeare's leading parts, often in unrevised versions. hamlet was accounted that actor's masterpiece. { a} 'no succeeding tragedy for several years,' wrote downes, the prompter at betterton's theatre, 'got more reputation or money to the company than this.' from onwards. from the accession of queen anne to the present day the tide of shakespeare's reputation, both on the stage and among critics, has flowed onward almost uninterruptedly. the censorious critic, john dennis, in his 'letters' on shakespeare's 'genius,' gave his work in whole-hearted commendation, and two of the greatest men of letters of the eighteenth century, pope and johnson, although they did not withhold all censure, paid him, as we have seen, the homage of becoming his editor. the school of textual criticism which theobald and capell founded in the middle years of the century has never ceased its activity since their day. { b} edmund malone's devotion at the end of the eighteenth century to the biography of the poet and the contemporary history of the stage, secured for him a vast band of disciples, of whom joseph hunter and john payne collier well deserve mention. but of all malone's successors, james orchard halliwell, afterwards halliwell-phillipps ( - ), has made the most important additions to our knowledge of shakespeare's biography. meanwhile, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, there arose a third school to expound exclusively the aesthetic excellence of the plays. in its inception the aesthetic school owed much to the methods of schlegel and other admiring critics of shakespeare in germany. but coleridge in his 'notes and lectures' { } and hazlitt in his 'characters of shakespeare's plays' ( ) are the best representatives of the aesthetic school in this or any other country. although professor dowden, in his 'shakespeare, his mind and art' ( ), and mr. swinburne in his 'study of shakespeare' ( ), are worthy followers, coleridge and hazlitt remain as aesthetic critics unsurpassed. in the effort to supply a fuller interpretation of shakespeare's works textual, historical, and aesthetic--two publishing societies have done much valuable work. 'the shakespeare society' was founded in by collier, halliwell, and their friends, and published some forty-eight volumes before its dissolution in . the new shakspere society, which was founded by dr. furnivall in , issued during the ensuing twenty years twenty-seven publications, illustrative mainly of the text and of contemporary life and literature. stratford festivals. in shakespeare's 'jubilee' was celebrated for three days (september - ) at stratford, under the direction of garrick, dr. arne, and boswell. the festivities were repeated on a small scale in april and april . 'the shakespeare tercentenary festival,' which was held at stratford from april to may , , claimed to be a national celebration. { } on the english stage. the first appearance of actresses in shakespearean parts. david garrick, - . on the english stage the name of every eminent actor since betterton, the great actor of the period of the restoration, has been identified with shakespearean parts. steele, writing in the 'tatler' (no. ) in reference to betterton's funeral in the cloisters of westminster abbey on may , , instanced his rendering of othello as proof of an unsurpassable talent in realising shakespeare's subtlest conceptions on the stage. one great and welcome innovation in shakespearean acting is closely associated with betterton's first name. he encouraged the substitution, that was inaugurated by killigrew, of women for boys in female parts. the first role that was professionally rendered by a woman in a public theatre was that of desdemona in 'othello,' apparently on december , . { } the actress on that occasion is said to have been mrs. margaret hughes, prince rupert's mistress; but betterton's wife, who was at first known on the stage as mrs. saunderson, was the first actress to present a series of shakespeare's great female characters. mrs. betterton gave her husband powerful support, from onwards, in such roles as ophelia, juliet, queen catherine, and lady macbeth. betterton formed a school of actors who carried on his traditions for many years after his death. robert wilks ( - ) as hamlet, and barton booth ( - ) as henry viii and hotspur, were popularly accounted no unworthy successors. colley cibber ( - ) as actor, theatrical manager, and dramatic critic, was both a loyal disciple of betterton and a lover of shakespeare, though his vanity and his faith in the ideals of the restoration incited him to perpetrate many outrages on shakespeare's text when preparing it for theatrical representation. his notorious adaptation of 'richard iii,' which was first produced in , long held the stage to the exclusion of the original version. but towards the middle of the eighteenth century all earlier efforts to interpret shakespeare in the playhouse were eclipsed in public esteem by the concentrated energy and intelligence of david garrick. garrick's enthusiasm for the poet and his histrionic genius riveted shakespeare's hold on public taste. his claim to have restored to the stage the text of shakespeare--purified of restoration defilements--cannot be allowed without serious qualifications. garrick had no scruple in presenting plays of shakespeare in versions that he or his friends had recklessly garbled. he supplied 'romeo and juliet' with a happy ending; he converted the 'taming of the shrew' into the farce of 'katherine and petruchio,' ; he introduced radical changes in 'antony and cleopatra,' 'two gentlemen of verona,' 'cymbeline,' and 'midsummer night's dream.' nevertheless, no actor has won an equally exalted reputation in so vast and varied a repertory of shakespearean roles. his triumphant debut as richard iii in was followed by equally successful performances of hamlet, lear, macbeth, king john, romeo, henry iv, iago, leontes, benedick, and antony in 'antony and cleopatra.' garrick was not quite undeservedly buried in westminster abbey on february , , at the foot of shakespeare's statue. garrick was ably seconded by mrs. clive ( - ), mrs. cibber ( - ), and mrs. pritchard ( - ). mrs. cibber as constance in 'king john,' and mrs. pritchard in lady macbeth, excited something of the same enthusiasm as garrick in richard iii and lear. there were, too, contemporary critics who judged rival actors to show in certain parts powers equal, if not superior, to those of garrick. charles macklin ( ?- ) for nearly half a century, from to , gave many hundred performances of a masterly rendering of shylock. the character had, for many years previous to macklin's assumption of it, been allotted to comic actors, but macklin effectively concentrated his energy on the tragic significance of the part with an effect that garrick could not surpass. macklin was also reckoned successful in polonius and iago. john henderson, the bath roscius ( - ), who, like garrick, was buried in westminster abbey, derived immense popularity from his representation of falstaff; while in subordinate characters like mercutio, slender, jaques, touchstone, and sir toby belch, john palmer ( ?- ) was held to approach perfection. but garrick was the accredited chief of the theatrical profession until his death. he was then succeeded in his place of predominance by john philip kemble, who derived invaluable support from his association with one abler than himself, his sister, mrs. siddons. john philip kemble, - . mrs. sarah siddons, - . somewhat stilted and declamatory in speech, kemble enacted a wide range of characters of shakespearean tragedy with a dignity that won the admiration of pitt, sir walter scott, charles lamb, and leigh hunt. coriolanus was regarded as his masterpiece, but his renderings of hamlet, king john, wolsey, the duke in 'measure for measure,' leontes, and brutus satisfied the most exacting canons of contemporary theatrical criticism. kemble's sister, mrs. siddons, was the greatest actress that shakespeare's countrymen have known. her noble and awe-inspiring presentation of lady macbeth, her constance, her queen katherine, have, according to the best testimony, not been equalled even by the achievements of the eminent actresses of france. edmund kean, - . during the present century the most conspicuous histrionic successes in shakespearean drama have been won by edmund kean, whose triumphant rendering of shylock on his first appearance at drury lane theatre on january , , is one of the most stirring incidents in the history of the english stage. kean defied the rigid convention of the 'kemble school,' and gave free rein to his impetuous passions. besides shylock, he excelled in richard iii, othello, hamlet, and lear. no less a critic than coleridge declared that to see him act was like 'reading shakespeare by flashes of lightning.' among other shakespearean actors of kean's period a high place was allotted by public esteem to george frederick cooke ( - ), whose richard iii, first given in london at covent garden theatre, october , , was accounted his masterpiece. charles lamb, writing in , declared that of all the actors who flourished in his time, robert bensley 'had most of the swell of soul,' and lamb gave with a fine enthusiasm in his 'essays of elia' an analysis (which has become classical) of bensley's performance of malvolio. but bensley's powers were rated more moderately by more experienced playgoers. { } lamb's praises of mrs. jordan ( - ) in ophelia, helena, and viola in 'twelfth night,' are corroborated by the eulogies of hazlitt and leigh hunt. in the part of rosalind mrs. jordan is reported on all sides to have beaten mrs. siddons out of the field. william charles macready, - . the torch thus lit by garrick, by the kembles, by kean and his contemporaries was worthily kept alive by william charles macready, a cultivated and conscientious actor, who, during a professional career of more than forty years ( - ), assumed every great part in shakespearean tragedy. although macready lacked the classical bearing of kemble or the intense passion of kean, he won as the interpreter of shakespeare the whole-hearted suffrages of the educated public. macready's chief associate in women characters was helen faucit ( - , afterwards lady martin), whose refined impersonations of imogen, beatrice, juliet, and rosalind form an attractive chapter in the history of the stage. recent revivals. the most notable tribute paid to shakespeare by any actor-manager of recent times was paid by samuel phelps ( - ), who gave during his tenure of sadler's wells theatre between and competent representations of all the plays save six; only 'richard ii,' the three parts of 'henry vi,' 'troilus and cressida,' and 'titus andronicus' were omitted. sir henry irving, who since has been ably seconded by miss ellen terry, has revived at the lyceum theatre between and the present time eleven plays ('hamlet,' 'macbeth,' 'othello,' 'richard iii,' 'the merchant of venice,' 'much ado about nothing,' 'twelfth night,' 'romeo and juliet,' 'king lear,' 'henry viii,' and 'cymbeline'), and has given each of them all the advantage they can derive from thoughtful acting as well as from lavish scenic elaboration. { a} but theatrical revivals of plays of shakespeare are in england intermittent, and no theatrical manager since phelps's retirement has sought systematically to illustrate on the stage the full range of shakespearean drama. far more in this direction has been attempted in germany. { b} in one respect the history of recent shakespearean representations can be viewed by the literary student with unqualified satisfaction. although some changes of text or some rearrangement of the scenes are found imperative in all theatrical representations of shakespeare, a growing public sentiment in england and elsewhere has for many years favoured as loyal an adherence to the authorised version of the plays as is practicable on the part of theatrical managers; and the evil traditions of the stage which sanctioned the perversions of the eighteenth century are happily well-nigh extinct. in music and art. music and art in england owe much to shakespeare's influence. from thomas morley, purcell, matthew locke, and arne to william linley, sir henry bishop, and sir arthur sullivan, every distinguished musician has sought to improve on his predecessor's setting of one or more of shakespeare's songs, or has composed concerted music in illustration of some of his dramatic themes. { } in art, the publisher john boydell organised in a scheme for illustrating scenes in shakespeare's work by the greatest living english artists. some fine pictures were the result. a hundred and sixty-eight were painted in all, and the artists, whom boydell employed, included sir joshua reynolds, george romney, thomas stothard, john opie, benjamin west, james barry, and henry fuseli. all the pictures were exhibited from time to time between and at a gallery specially built for the purpose in pall mall, and in boydell published a collection of engravings of the chief pictures. the great series of paintings was dispersed by auction in . few eminent artists of later date, from daniel maclise to sir john millais, have lacked the ambition to interpret some scene or character of shakespearean drama. in america. in america no less enthusiasm for shakespeare has been manifested than in england. editors and critics are hardly less numerous there, and some criticism from american pens, like that of james russell lowell, has reached the highest literary level. nowhere, perhaps, has more labour been devoted to the study of his works than that given by mr. h. h. furness of philadelphia to the preparation of his 'new variorum' edition. the barton collection of shakespeareana in the boston public library is one of the most valuable extant, and the elaborate catalogue ( - ) contains some , entries. first of shakespeare's plays to be represented in america, 'richard iii' was performed in new york in march . more recently edwin forrest, junius brutus booth, edwin booth, charlotte cushman, and miss ada rehan have maintained on the american stage the great traditions of shakespearean acting; while mr. e. a. abbey has devoted high artistic gifts to pictorial representation of scenes from the plays. translations. in germany. german translations. the bible, alone of literary compositions, has been translated more frequently or into a greater number of languages than the works of shakespeare. the progress of his reputation in germany, france, italy, and russia was somewhat slow at the outset. but in germany the poet has received for nearly a century and a half a recognition scarcely less pronounced than that accorded him in america and in his own country. three of shakespeare's plays, now in the zurich library, were brought thither by j. r. hess from england in . as early as 'hamlet,' 'king lear,' and 'romeo and juliet' were acted at dresden, and a version of the 'taming of the shrew' was played there and elsewhere at the end of the seventeenth century. but such mention of shakespeare as is found in german literature between and only indicates a knowledge on the part of german readers either of dryden's criticisms or of the accounts of him printed in english encyclopaedias. { } the earliest sign of a direct acquaintance with the plays is a poor translation of 'julius caesar' into german by baron c. w. von borck, formerly prussian minister in london, which was published at berlin in . a worse rendering of 'romeo and juliet' followed in . meanwhile j. c. gottsched ( - ), an influential man of letters, warmly denounced shakespeare in a review of von borck's effort in 'beitrage zur deutschen sprache' and elsewhere. lessing came without delay to shakespeare's rescue, and set his reputation, in the estimation of the german public, on that exalted pedestal which it has not ceased to occupy. it was in , in a journal entitled 'litteraturbriefe,' that lessing first claimed for shakespeare superiority, not only to the french dramatists racine and corneille, who hitherto had dominated european taste, but to all ancient or modern poets. lessing's doctrine, which he developed in his 'hamburgische dramaturgie' (hamburg, , vols. vo), was at once accepted by the poet johann gottfried herder in the 'blatter von deutschen art and kunst,' . christopher martin wieland ( - ) in began a prose translation which johann joachim eschenburg ( - ) completed (zurich, vols., - ). between and there appeared at intervals the classical german rendering by august wilhelm von schlegel and ludwig tieck, leaders of the romantic school of german literature, whose creed embodied, as one of its first articles, an unwavering veneration for shakespeare. schlegel translated only seventeen plays, and his workmanship excels that of the rest of the translation. tieck's part in the undertaking was mainly confined to editing translations by various hands. many other german translations in verse were undertaken during the same period--by j. h. voss and his sons (leipzig, - ), by j. w. o. benda (leipzig, - ), by j. korner (vienna, ), by a. bottger (leipzig, - ), by e. ortlepp (stuttgart, - ), and by a. keller and m. rapp (stuttgart, - ). the best of more recent german translations is that by a band of poets and eminent men of letters including friedrich von bodenstedt, ferdinand von freiligrath, and paul heyse (leipzig, - , vols.) most of these versions have been many times reissued, but, despite the high merits of von bodenstedt and his companions' performance, schlegel and tieck's achievement still holds the field. schlegel's lectures on 'shakespeare and the drama,' which were delivered at vienna in , and were translated into english in , are worthy of comparison with those of coleridge, who owed much to their influence. wordsworth in declared that schlegel and his disciples first marked out the right road in aesthetic criticism, and enjoyed at the moment superiority over all english aesthetic critics of shakespeare. { } subsequently goethe poured forth, in his voluminous writings, a mass of criticism even more illuminating and appreciative than schlegel's. { } although goethe deemed shakespeare's works unsuited to the stage, he adapted 'romeo and juliet' for the weimar theatre, while schiller prepared 'macbeth' (stuttgart, ). heine published in charming studies of shakespeare's heroines (english translation ), and acknowledged only one defect in shakespeare--that he was an englishman. modern german writers on shakespeare. during the last half-century textual, aesthetic, and biographical criticism has been pursued in germany with unflagging industry and energy; and although laboured and supersubtle theorising characterises much german aesthetic criticism, its mass and variety testify to the impressiveness of the appeal that shakespeare's work has made to the german intellect. the efforts to stem the current of shakespearean worship made by the realistic critic, gustav rumelin, in his 'shakespearestudien' (stuttgart, ), and subsequently by the dramatist, j. r. benedix, in 'die shakespearomanie' (stuttgart, , vo), proved of no effect. in studies of the text and metre nikolaus delius ( - ) should, among recent german writers, be accorded the first place; in studies of the biography and stage history friedrich karl elze ( - ); in aesthetic studies friedrich alexander theodor kreyssig ( - ), author of 'vorlesungen uber shakespeare' (berlin, and ), and 'shakespeare-fragen' (leipzig, ). ulrici's 'shakespeare's dramatic art' (first published at halle in ) and gervinus's commentaries (first published at leipzig in - ), both of which are familiar in english translations, are suggestive but unconvincing aesthetic interpretations. the german shakespeare society, which was founded at weimar in , has published thirty-four year-books (edited successively by von bodenstedt, delius, elze, and f. a. leo); each contains useful contributions to shakespearean study. on the german stage. shakespeare has been no less effectually nationalised on the german stage. the three great actors--frederick ulrich ludwig schroeder ( - ) of hamburg, ludwig devrient ( - ), and his nephew gustav emil devrient ( - )--largely derived their fame from their successful assumptions of shakespearean characters. another of ludwig devrient's nephews, eduard ( - ), also an actor, prepared, with his son otto, an acting german edition (leipzig, and following years). an acting edition by wilhelm oechelhaeuser appeared previously at berlin in . twenty-eight of the thirty-seven plays assigned to shakespeare are now on recognised lists of german acting plays, including all the histories. { a} in as many as performances of twenty-five of shakespeare's plays were given in german theatres. { b} in no fewer than performances were given of twenty-three plays. in performances of twenty-four plays reached a total of --an average of nearly three shakespearean representations a day in the german-speaking districts of europe. { } it is not only in capitals like berlin and vienna that the representations are frequent and popular. in towns like altona, breslau, frankfort-on-the-maine, hamburg, magdeburg, and rostock, shakespeare is acted constantly and the greater number of his dramas is regularly kept in rehearsal. 'othello,' 'hamlet,' 'romeo and juliet,' and 'the taming of the shrew' usually prove most attractive. of the many german musical composers who have worked on shakespearean themes, mendelssohn (in 'midsummer night's dream'), schumann, and franz schubert (in setting separate songs) have achieved the greatest success. in france. voltaire's strictures. in france shakespeare won recognition after a longer struggle than in germany. cyrano de bergerac ( - ) plagiarised 'cymbeline,' 'hamlet,' and 'the merchant of venice' in his 'agrippina.' about nicolas clement, louis xiv's librarian, allowed shakespeare imagination, natural thoughts, and ingenious expression, but deplored his obscenity. { a} half a century elapsed before public attention in france was again directed to shakespeare. { b} the abbe prevost, in his periodical 'le pour et contre' ( et seq.), acknowledged his power. but it is to voltaire that his countrymen owe, as he himself boasted, their first effective introduction to shakespeare. voltaire studied shakespeare thoroughly on his visit to england between and , and his influence is visible in his own dramas. in his 'lettres philosophiques' ( ), afterwards reissued as 'lettres sur les anglais,' (nos. xviii. and xix.), and in his 'lettre sur la tragedie' ( ), he expressed admiration for shakespeare's genius, but attacked his want of taste and art. he described him as 'le corneille de londres, grand fou d'ailleurs mais il a des morceaux admirables.' writing to the abbe des fontaines in november , voltaire admitted many merits in 'julius caesar,' on which he published 'observations' in . johnson replied to voltaire's general criticism in the preface to his edition ( ), and mrs. elizabeth montagu in in a separate volume, which was translated into french in . diderot made, in his 'encylopedie,' the first stand in france against the voltairean position, and increased opportunities of studying shakespeare's works increased the poet's vogue. twelve plays were translated in de la place's 'theatre anglais' ( - ). jean-francois ducis ( - ) adapted without much insight six plays for the french stage, beginning in with 'hamlet,' his version of which was acted with applause. in pierre le tourneur began a bad prose translation (completed in ) of all shakespeare's plays, and declared him to be 'the god of the theatre.' voltaire protested against this estimate in a new remonstrance consisting of two letters, of which the first was read before the french academy on august , . here shakespeare was described as a barbarian, whose works--'a huge dunghill'--concealed some pearls. french critics' gradual emancipation from voltairean influence. although voltaire's censure was rejected by the majority of later french critics, it expressed a sentiment born of the genius of the nation, and made an impression that was only gradually effaced. marmontel, la harpe, marie-joseph chenier, and chateaubriand, in his 'essai sur shakespeare,' , inclined to voltaire's view; but madame de stael wrote effectively on the other side in her 'de la litterature, (i. caps. , , ii. .) 'at this day,' wrote wordsworth in , 'the french critics have abated nothing of their aversion to "this darling of our nation." "the english with their bouffon de shakespeare" is as familiar an expression among them as in the time of voltaire. baron grimm is the only french writer who seems to have perceived his infinite superiority to the first names of the french theatre; an advantage which the parisian critic owed to his german blood and german education.' { a} the revision of le tourneur's translation by francois guizot and a. pichot in gave shakespeare a fresh advantage. paul duport, in 'essais litteraires sur shakespeare' (paris, , vols.), was the last french critic of repute to repeat voltaire's censure unreservedly. guizot, in his discourse 'sur la vie et les oeuvres de shakespeare' (reprinted separately from the translation of ), as well as in his 'shakespeare et son temps' ( ), villemain in a general essay, { b} and barante in a study of 'hamlet,' { c} acknowledge the mightiness of shakespeare's genius with comparatively few qualifications. other complete translations followed--by francisque michel ( ), by benjamin laroche ( ), and by emil montegut ( ), but the best is that in prose by francois victor hugo ( - ), whose father, victor hugo the poet, published a rhapsodical eulogy in . alfred mezieres's 'shakespeare, ses oeuvres et ses critiques' (paris, ), is a saner appreciation. on the french stage. meanwhile 'hamlet' and 'macbeth,' 'othello,' and a few other shakespearean plays, became stock pieces on the french stage. a powerful impetus to theatrical representation of shakespeare in france was given by the performance in paris of the chief plays by a strong company of english actors in the autumn of . 'hamlet' and 'othello' were acted successively by charles kemble and macready; edmund kean appeared as richard iii, othello, and shylock; miss smithson, who became the wife of hector berlioz the musician, filled the _roles_ of ophelia, juliet, desdemona, cordelia, and portia. french critics were divided as to the merits of the performers, but most of them were enthusiastic in their commendations of the plays. { a} alfred de vigny prepared a version of 'othello' for the theatre-francais in with eminent success. an adaptation of 'hamlet' by alexandre dumas was first performed in , and a rendering by the chevalier de chatelain ( ) was often repeated. george sand translated 'as you like it' (paris, ) for representation by the comedie francaise on april , . 'lady macbeth' has been represented in recent years by madame sarah bernhardt, and 'hamlet' by m. mounet sully of the theatre-francais. { b} four french musicians--berlioz in his symphony of 'romeo and juliet,' gounod in his opera of 'romeo and juliet,' ambroise thomas in his opera of 'hamlet,' and saint-saens in his opera of 'henry viii'--have sought with public approval to interpret musically portions of shakespeare's work. in italy. in italy shakespeare was little known before the present century. such references as eighteenth-century italian writers made to him were based on remarks by voltaire. { } the french adaptation of 'hamlet' by ducis was issued in italian blank verse (venice, , vo). complete translations of all the plays made direct from the english were issued by michele leoni in verse at verona in - , and by carlo rusconi in prose at padua in (new edit. turin, - ). 'othello' and 'romeo and juliet' have been very often translated into italian separately. the italian actors, madame ristori (as lady macbeth), salvini (as othello), and rossi rank among shakespeare's most effective interpreters. verdi's operas on macbeth, othello, and falstaff (the last two with libretti by boito), manifest close and appreciative study of shakespeare. in holland. two complete translations have been published in dutch; one in prose by a. s. kok (amsterdam - ), the other in verse by dr. l. a. j. burgersdijk (leyden, - , vols.) in russia. in eastern europe, shakespeare first became known through french and german translations. into russian 'romeo and juliet' was translated in , 'richard iii' in , and 'julius caesar' in . sumarakow translated ducis' version of 'hamlet' in for stage purposes, while the empress catherine ii adapted the 'merry wives' and 'king john.' numerous versions of all the chief plays followed; and in there appeared at st. petersburg the best translation in verse (direct from the english), by nekrasow and gerbel. a prose translation, by n. ketzcher, begun in , was completed in . gerbel issued a russian translation of the 'sonnets' in , and many critical essays in the language, original or translated, have been published. almost every play has been represented in russian on the russian stage. { a} in poland. a polish version of 'hamlet' was acted at lemberg in ; and as many as sixteen plays now hold a recognised place among polish acting plays. the standard polish translation of shakespeare's collected works appeared at warsaw in (edited by the polish poet kraszewski), and is reckoned among the most successful renderings in a foreign tongue. in hungary. in hungary, shakespeare's greatest works have since the beginning of the century been highly appreciated by students and by playgoers. a complete translation into hungarian appeared at kaschau in . at the national theatre at budapest no fewer than twenty-two plays have been of late years included in the actors' repertory. { b} in other countries. other complete translations have been published in bohemian (prague ), in swedish (lund, - ), in danish ( - ), and finnish (helsingfors, - ). in spanish a complete translation is in course of publication (madrid, et seq.), and the eminent spanish critic menendez y pelayo has set shakespeare above calderon. in armenian, although only three plays ('hamlet,' 'romeo and juliet,' and 'as you like it') have been issued, the translation of the whole is ready for the press. separate plays have appeared in welsh, portuguese, friesic, flemish, servian, roumanian, maltese, ukrainian, wallachian, croatian, modern greek, latin, hebrew, and japanese; while a few have been rendered into bengali, hindustani, marathi, { } gujarati, urdu, kanarese, and other languages of india, and have been acted in native theatres. xxi--general estimate general estimate. no estimate of shakespeare's genius can be adequate. in knowledge of human character, in wealth of humour, in depth of passion, in fertility of fancy, and in soundness of judgment, he has no rival. it is true of him, as of no other writer, that his language and versification adapt themselves to every phase of sentiment, and sound every note in the scale of felicity. some defects are to be acknowledged, but they sink into insignificance when measured by the magnitude of his achievement. sudden transitions, elliptical expressions, mixed metaphors, indefensible verbal quibbles, and fantastic conceits at times create an atmosphere of obscurity. the student is perplexed, too, by obsolete words and by some hopelessly corrupt readings. but when the whole of shakespeare's vast work is scrutinised with due attention, the glow of his magination is seen to leave few passages wholly unillumined. some of his plots are hastily constructed and inconsistently developed, but the intensity of the interest with which he contrives to invest the personality of his heroes and heroines triumphs over halting or digressive treatment of the story in which they have their being. although he was versed in the technicalities of stagecraft, he occasionally disregarded its elementary conditions. but the success of his presentments of human life and character depended little on his manipulation of theatrical machinery. his unassailable supremacy springs from the versatile working of his insight and intellect, by virtue of which his pen limned with unerring precision almost every gradation of thought and emotion that animates the living stage of the world. character of shakespeare's achievement. shakespeare's mind, as hazlitt suggested, contained within itself the germs of all faculty and feeling. he knew intuitively how every faculty and feeling would develop in any conceivable change of fortune. men and women--good or bad, old or young, wise or foolish, merry or sad, rich or poor--yielded their secrets to him, and his genius enabled him to give being in his pages to all the shapes of humanity that present themselves on the highway of life. each of his characters gives voice to thought or passion with an individuality and a naturalness that rouse in the intelligent playgoer and reader the illusion that they are overhearing men and women speak unpremeditatingly among themselves, rather than that they are reading written speeches or hearing written speeches recited. the more closely the words are studied, the completer the illusion grows. creatures of the imagination--fairies, ghosts, witches--are delineated with a like potency, and the reader or spectator feels instinctively that these supernatural entities could not speak, feel, or act otherwise than shakespeare represents them. the creative power of poetry was never manifested to such effect as in the corporeal semblances in which shakespeare clad the spirits of the air. its universal recognition. so mighty a faculty sets at naught the common limitations of nationality, and in every quarter of the globe to which civilised life has penetrated shakespeare's power is recognised. all the world over, language is applied to his creations that ordinarily applies to beings of flesh and blood. hamlet and othello, lear and macbeth, falstaff and shylock, brutus and romeo, ariel and caliban are studied in almost every civilised tongue as if they were historic personalities, and the chief of the impressive phrases that fall from their lips are rooted in the speech of civilised humanity. to shakespeare the intellect of the world, speaking in divers accents, applies with one accord his own words: 'how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in apprehension how like a god!' appendix i.--the sources of biographical knowledge. contemporary records abundant. the scantiness of contemporary records of shakespeare's career has been much exaggerated. an investigation extending over two centuries has brought together a mass of detail which far exceeds that accessible in the case of any other contemporary professional writer. nevertheless, some important links are missing, and at some critical points appeal to conjecture is inevitable. but the fully ascertained facts are numerous enough to define sharply the general direction that shakespeare's career followed. although the clues are in some places faint, the trail never altogether eludes the patient investigator. first efforts in biography. fuller, in his 'worthies' ( ), attempted the first biographical notice of shakespeare, with poor results. aubrey, in his gossiping 'lives of eminent men,' { } based his ampler information on reports communicated to him by william beeston (_d._ ), an aged actor, whom dryden called 'the chronicle of the stage,' and who was doubtless in the main a trustworthy witness. a few additional details were recorded in the seventeenth century by the rev. john ward ( - ), vicar of stratford-on-avon from to , in a diary and memorandum-book written between and (ed. c. a. severn, ); by the rev. william fulman, whose manuscripts are at corpus christi college, oxford (with valuable interpolations made before by the rev. richard davies, vicar of saperton, gloucestershire); by john dowdall, who recorded his experiences of travel through warwickshire in (london, ); and by william hall, who described a visit to stratford in (london, , from hall's letter among the bodleian mss.) phillips in his 'theatrum poetarum' ( ), and langbaine in his 'english dramatick poets' ( ), confined themselves to elementary criticism. in nicholas rowe prefixed to his edition of the plays a more ambitious memoir than had yet been attempted, and embodied some hitherto unrecorded stratford and london traditions with which the actor thomas betterton supplied him. a little fresh gossip was collected by william oldys, and was printed from his manuscript 'adversaria' (now in the british museum) as an appendix to yeowell's 'memoir of oldys,' . pope, johnson, and steevens, in the biographical prefaces to their editions, mainly repeated the narratives of their predecessor, rowe. biographers of the nineteenth century. stratford topography. in the prolegomena to the variorum editions of , , and especially in that of , there was embodied a mass of fresh information derived by edmund malone from systematic researches among the parochial records of stratford, the manuscripts accumulated by the actor alleyn at dulwich, and official papers of state preserved in the public offices in london (now collected in the public record office). the available knowledge of elizabethan stage history, as well as of shakespeare's biography, was thus greatly extended. john payne collier, in his 'history of english dramatic poetry' ( ), in his 'new facts' about shakespeare ( ), his 'new particulars' ( ), and his 'further particulars' ( ), and in his editions of henslowe's 'diary' and the 'alleyn papers' for the shakespeare society, while occasionally throwing some further light on obscure places, foisted on shakespeare's biography a series of ingeniously forged documents which have greatly perplexed succeeding biographers. { } joseph hunter in 'new illustrations of shakespeare' ( ) and george russell french's 'shakespeareana genealogica' ( ) occasionally supplemented malone's researches. james orchard halliwell (afterwards halliwell-phillipps) printed separately, between and , in various privately issued publications, all the stratford archives and extant legal documents bearing on shakespeare's career, many of them for the first time. in halliwell-phillipps began the collective publication of materials for a full biography in his 'outlines of the life of shakespeare;' this work was generously enlarged in successive editions until it acquired massive proportions; in the seventh and last edition of it numbered near , pages. mr. frederick gard fleay, in his 'shakespeare manual' ( ), in his 'life of shakespeare' ( ), in his 'history of the stage' ( ), and his 'biographical chronicle of the english drama' ( ), adds much useful information respecting stage history and shakespeare's relations with his fellow-dramatists, mainly derived from a study of the original editions of the plays of shakespeare and of his contemporaries; but unfortunately many of mr. fleay's statements and conjectures are unauthenticated. for notices of stratford, r. b. wheler's 'history and antiquities' ( ), john r. wise's 'shakespere, his birthplace and its neighbourhood' ( ), the present writer's 'stratford-on-avon to the death of shakespeare' ( ), and mrs. c. c. stopes's 'shakespeare's warwickshire contemporaries' ( ), may be consulted. wise appends to his volume a tentative 'glossary of words still used in warwickshire to be found in shakspere.' the parish registers of stratford have been edited by mr. richard savage for the parish registers society ( - ). nathan drake's 'shakespeare and his times' ( ) and g. w. thornbury's 'shakespeare's england' ( ) collect much material respecting shakespeare's social environment. specialised studies in biography. useful epitomes. the chief monographs on special points in shakespeare's biography are dr. richard farmer's 'essay on the learning of shakespeare' ( ), reprinted in the variorum editions; octavius gilchrist's 'examination of the charges . . . . of ben jonson's enmity towards shakespeare' ( ); w. j. thoms's 'was shakespeare ever a soldier?' ( ), a study based on an erroneous identification of the poet with another william shakespeare; lord campbell's 'shakespeare's legal acquirements considered' ( ); john charles bucknill's 'medical knowledge of shakespeare' ( ); c. f. green's' 'shakespeare's crab-tree, with its legend' ( ); c. h. bracebridge's 'shakespeare no deer-stealer' ( ); william blades's 'shakspere and typography' ( ); and d. h. madden's 'diary of master william silence (shakespeare and sport),' . a full epitome of the biographical information accessible at the date of publication is supplied in karl elze's 'life of shakespeare' (halle, ; english translation, ), with which elze's 'essays' from the publications of the german shakespeare society (english translation, ) are worth studying. a less ambitious effort of the same kind by samuel neil ( ) is seriously injured by the writer's acceptance of collier's forgeries. professor dowden's 'shakspere primer' ( ) and his 'introduction to shakspere' ( ), and dr. furnivall's 'introduction to the leopold shakspere,' are all useful summaries of leading facts. aids to study of plots and text. concordances. bibliographies. francis douce's 'illustrations of shakespeare' ( , new edit. ), 'shakespeare's library' (ed. j. p. collier and w. c. hazlitt, ), 'shakespeare's plutarch' (ed. skeat, ), and 'shakespeare's holinshed' (ed. w. g. boswell-stone, ) are of service in tracing the sources of shakespeare's plots. alexander schmidt's 'shakespeare lexicon' ( ) and dr. e. a. abbott's 'shakespearian grammar' ( , new edit. ) are valuable aids to a study of the text. useful concordances to the plays have been prepared by mrs. cowden-clarke ( ), to the poems by mrs. h. h. furness (philadelphia, ), and to plays and poems, in one volume, with references to numbered lines, by john bartlett (london and new york, ). { } a 'handbook index' by j. o. halliwell (privately printed ) gives lists of obsolete words and phrases, songs, proverbs, and plants mentioned in the works of shakespeare. an unprinted glossary prepared by richard warner between and is at the british museum (addit. mss. - ). extensive bibliographies are given in lowndes's 'library manual' (ed. bohn); in franz thimm's 'shakespeariana' ( and ); in the 'encyclopaedia britannica,' th edit. (skilfully classified by mr. h. r. tedder); and in the 'british museum catalogue' (the shakespearean entries in which, comprising , titles, were separately published in ). critical studies. the valuable publications of the shakespeare society, the new shakspere society, and of the deutsche shakespeare-gesellschaft, comprising contributions alike to the aesthetic, textual, historical, and biographical study of shakespeare, are noticed above (see pp. - , ). to the critical studies, on which comment has already been made (see p. )--viz. coleridge's 'notes and lectures,' , hazlitt's 'characters of shakespeare's plays,' , professor dowden's 'shakspere: his mind and art,' , and mr. a. c. swinburne's 'a study of shakespeare,' --there may be added the essays on shakespeare's heroines respectively by mrs. jameson in and lady martin in ; dr. ward's 'english dramatic literature' ( , new edit. ); richard g. moulton's 'shakespeare as a dramatic artist' ( ); 'shakespeare studies' by thomas spencer baynes ( ); f. s. boas's 'shakspere and his predecessors', ( ), and georg brandes's 'william shakespeare'--an elaborately critical but somewhat fanciful study--in danish (copenhagen, , vo), in german (leipzig, ), and in english (london, , vols. vo). shakespearean forgeries. the intense interest which shakespeare's life and work have long universally excited has tempted unprincipled or sportively mischievous writers from time to time to deceive the public by the forgery of documents purporting to supply new information. the forgers were especially active at the end of last century and during the middle years of the present century, and their frauds have caused students so much perplexity that it may be useful to warn them against those shakespearean forgeries which have obtained the widest currency. john jordan, - . the earliest forger to obtain notoriety was john jordan ( - ), a resident at stratford-on-avon, whose most important achievement was the forgery of the will of shakespeare's father; but many other papers in jordan's 'original collections on shakespeare and stratford-on-avon' ( ), and 'original memoirs and historical accounts of the families of shakespeare and hart,' are open to the gravest suspicion. { a} the ireland forgeries, . the best known shakespearean forger of the eighteenth century was william henry ireland ( - ), a barrister's clerk, who, with the aid of his father, samuel ireland ( ?- ), an author and engraver of some repute, produced in a volume of forged papers claiming to relate to shakespeare's career. the title ran: 'miscellaneous papers and legal instruments under the hand and seal of william shakespeare, including the tragedy of "king lear" and a small fragment of "hamlet" from the original mss. in the possession of samuel ireland.' on april , sheridan and kemble produced at drury lane theatre a bombastic tragedy in blank verse entitled 'vortigern' under the pretence that it was by shakespeare, and had been recently found among the manuscripts of the dramatist that had fallen into the hands of the irelands. the piece, which was published, was the invention of young ireland. the fraud of the irelands, which for some time deceived a section of the literary public, was finally exposed by malone in his valuable 'inquiry into the authenticity of the ireland mss.' ( ). young ireland afterwards published his 'confessions' ( ). he had acquired much skill in copying shakespeare's genuine signature from the facsimile in steevens's edition of shakespeare's works of the mortgage-deed of the blackfriars house of - , { b} and, besides conforming to that style of handwriting in his forged deeds and literary compositions, he inserted copies of the signature on the title-pages of many sixteenth-century books, and often added notes in the same feigned hand on their margins. numerous sixteenth-century volumes embellished by ireland in this manner are extant, and his forged signatures and marginalia have been frequently mistaken for genuine autographs of shakespeare. forgeries promulgated by collier and others, - . but ireland's and jordan's frauds are clumsy compared with those that belong to the present century. most of the works relating to the biography of shakespeare or the history of the elizabethan stage produced by john payne collier, or under his supervision, between and are honeycombed with forged references to shakespeare, and many of the forgeries have been admitted unsuspectingly into literary history. the chief of these forged papers i arrange below in the order of the dates that have been allotted to them by their manufacturers. { a} (november). appeal from the blackfriars players ( in number) to the privy council for favour. shakespeare's name stands twelfth. from the manuscripts at bridgewater house, belonging to the earl of ellesmere. first printed in collier's 'new facts regarding the life of shakespeare,' . (july). list of inhabitants of the liberty of southwark, shakespeare's name appearing in the sixth place. first printed in collier's 'life of shakespeare,' , p. . . petition of the owners and players of the blackfriars theatre to the privy council in reply to an alleged petition of the inhabitants requesting the closing of the playhouse. shakespeare's name is fifth on the list of petitioners. this forged paper is in the public record office, and was first printed in collier's 'history of english dramatic poetry' ( ), vol. i. p. , and has been constantly reprinted as if it were genuine. { b} (_circa_). a letter signed h. s.(_i.e._ henry, earl of southampton), addressed to sir thomas egerton, praying protection for the players of the blackfriars theatre, and mentioning burbage and shakespeare by name. first printed in collier's 'new facts.' (_circa_). a list of sharers in the blackfriars theatre, with the valuation of their property, in which shakespeare is credited with four shares, worth pounds s. d. this was first printed in collier's 'new facts,' , p. , from the egerton mss. at bridgewater house. (august ). notice of the performance of 'othello' by burbage's 'players' before queen elizabeth when on a visit to sir thomas egerton, the lord-keeper, at harefield, in a forged account of disbursements by egerton's steward, arthur mainwaringe, from the manuscripts at bridgewater house, belonging to the earl of ellesmere. printed in collier's 'new particulars regarding the works of shakespeare,' , and again in collier's edition of the 'egerton papers,' (camden society)) pp. - . (october ). mention of 'mr. shakespeare of the globe' in a letter at dulwich from mrs. alleyn to her husband; part of the letter is genuine. first published in collier's memoirs of edward alleyn,' , p. . { } list of the names of eleven players (april ). of the king's company fraudulently appended to a genuine letter at dulwich college from the privy council bidding the lord mayor permit performances by the king's players. printed in collier's 'memoirs of edward alleyn,' , p. . { b} (november-december). forged entries in master of the revels' account-books (now at the public record office) of performances at whitehall by the king's players of the 'moor of venice'--_i.e._ 'othello'--on november , and of 'measure for measure' on december . printed in peter cunningham's 'extracts from the accounts of the revels at court' (pp. - ), published by the shakespeare society in . doubtless based on malone's trustworthy memoranda (now in the bodleian library) of researches among genuine papers formerly at the audit office at somerset house. { a} . notes of performances of 'hamlet' and 'richard ii' by the crews of the vessels of the east india company's fleet off sierra leone. first printed in 'narratives of voyages towards the north-west, - ,' edited by thomas rundall for the hakluyt society, , p. , from what purported to be an exact transcript 'in the india office' of the 'journal of william keeling,' captain of one of the vessels in the expedition. keeling's manuscript journal is still at the india office, but the leaves that should contain these entries are now, and have long been, missing from it. (january ). a warrant appointing robert daborne, william shakespeare, and others instructors of the children of the revels. from the bridgewater house mss. first printed in collier's 'new facts,' . list of persons assessed for poor (april ). rate in southwark, april , , in which shakespeare's name appears. first printed in collier's 'memoirs of edward alleyn,' , p. . the forged paper is at dulwich. { b} (november). forged entries in master of the revels' account-books (now at the public record office) of performances at whitehall by the king's players of the 'tempest' on november , and of the 'winter's tale' on november . printed in peter cunningham's 'extracts from the revels accounts,' p. . doubtless based on malone's trustworthy memoranda of researches among genuine papers formerly at the audit office at somerset house. { c} ii.--the bacon-shakespeare controversy. its source. toby matthew's letter. the apparent contrast between the homeliness of shakespeare's stratford career and the breadth of observation and knowledge displayed in his literary work has evoked the fantastic theory that shakespeare was not the author of the literature that passes under his name, and perverse attempts have been made to assign his works to his great contemporary, francis bacon ( - ), the great contemporary prose-writer, philosopher, and lawyer. it is argued that shakespeare's plays embody a general omniscience (especially a knowledge of law) which was possessed by no contemporary except bacon; that there are many close parallelisms between passages in shakespeare's and passages in bacon's works, { } and that bacon makes enigmatic references in his correspondence to secret 'recreations' and 'alphabets' and concealed poems for which his alleged employment as a concealed dramatist can alone account. toby matthew wrote to bacon (as viscount st. albans) at an uncertain date after january : 'the most prodigious wit that ever i knew of my nation and of this side of the sea is of your lordship's name, though he be known by another.' { } this unpretending sentence is distorted into conclusive evidence that bacon wrote works of commanding excellence under another's name, and among them probably shakespeare's plays. according to the only sane interpretation of matthew's words, his 'most prodigious wit' was some englishman named bacon whom he met abroad--probably a pseudonymous jesuit like most of matthew's friends. (the real surname of father thomas southwell, who was a learned jesuit domiciled chiefly in the low countries, was bacon. he was born in at sculthorpe, near walsingham, norfolk, being son of thomas bacon of that place, and he died at watten in .) chief exponents. its vogue in america. joseph c. hart (u.s. consul at santa cruz, _d._ ), in his 'romance of yachting' ( ), first raised doubts of shakespeare's authorship. there followed in a like temper 'who wrote shakespeare?' in 'chambers's journal,' august , , and an article by miss delia bacon in 'putnams' monthly,' january, . on the latter was based 'the philosophy of the plays of shakespeare unfolded by delia bacon,' with a neutral preface by nathaniel hawthorne, london and boston, . miss delia bacon, who was the first to spread abroad a spirit of scepticism respecting the established facts of shakespeare's career, died insane on september , . { } mr. william henry smith, a resident in london, seems first to have suggested the baconian hypothesis in 'was lord bacon the author of shakespeare's plays?--a letter to lord ellesmere' ( ), which was republished as 'bacon and shakespeare' ( ). the most learned exponent of this strange theory was nathaniel holmes, an american lawyer, who published at new york in 'the authorship of the plays attributed to shakespeare,' a monument of misapplied ingenuity ( th edit. , vols.) bacon's 'promus of formularies and elegancies,' a commonplace book in bacon's handwriting in the british museum (london, ), was first edited by mrs. henry pott, a voluminous advocate of the baconian theory; it contained many words and phrases common to the works of bacon and shakespeare, and mrs. pott pressed the argument from parallelisms of expression to its extremest limits. the baconian theory has found its widest acceptance in america. there it achieved its wildest manifestation in the book called 'the great cryptogram: francis bacon's cypher in the so-called shakespeare plays' (chicago and london, , vols.), which was the work of mr. ignatius donnelly of hastings, minnesota. the author pretended to have discovered among bacon's papers a numerical cypher which enabled him to pick out letters appearing at certain intervals in the pages of shakespeare's first folio, and the selected letters formed words and sentences categorically stating that bacon was author of the plays. many refutations have been published of mr. donnelly's arbitrary and baseless contention. extent of the literature. a bacon society was founded in london in to develop and promulgate the unintelligible theory, and it inaugurated a magazine (named since may 'baconiana'). a quarterly periodical also called 'baconiana,' and issued in the same interest, was established at chicago in . 'the bibliography of the shakespeare-bacon controversy' by w. h. wyman, cincinnati, , gives the titles of two hundred and fifty-five books or pamphlets on both sides of the subject, published since ; the list was continued during in 'shakespeariana,' a monthly journal published at philadelphia, and might now be extended to fully twice its original number. the abundance of the contemporary evidence attesting shakespeare's responsibility for the works published under his name gives the baconian theory no rational right to a hearing while such authentic examples of bacon's effort to write verse as survive prove beyond all possibility of contradiction that, great as he was as a prose writer and a philosopher, he was incapable of penning any of the poetry assigned to shakespeare. defective knowledge and illogical or casuistical argument alone render any other conclusion possible. iii.--the youthful career of the earl of southampton. southampton and shakespeare. from the dedicatory epistles addressed by shakespeare to the earl of southampton in the opening pages of his two narrative poems, 'venus and adonis' ( ) and 'lucrece' ( ), { a} from the account given by sir william d'avenant, and recorded by nicholas rowe, of the earl's liberal bounty to the poet, { b} and from the language of the sonnets, it is abundantly clear that shakespeare enjoyed very friendly relations with southampton from the time when his genius was nearing its maturity. no contemporary document or tradition gives the faintest suggestion that shakespeare was the friend or _protege_ of any man of rank other than southampton; and the student of shakespeare's biography has reason to ask for some information respecting him who enjoyed the exclusive distinction of serving shakespeare as his patron. parentage. birth on oct. , . southampton was a patron worth cultivating. both his parents came of the new nobility, and enjoyed vast wealth. his father's father was lord chancellor under henry viii, and when the monasteries were dissolved, although he was faithful to the old religion, he was granted rich estates in hampshire, including the abbeys of titchfield and beaulieu in the new forest. he was created earl of southampton early in edward vi's reign, and, dying shortly afterwards, was succeeded by his only son, the father of shakespeare's friend. the second earl loved magnificence in his household. 'he was highly reverenced and favoured of all that were of his own rank, and bravely attended and served by the best gentlemen of those counties wherein he lived. his muster-roll never consisted of four lacqueys and a coachman, but of a whole troop of at least a hundred well-mounted gentlemen and yeomen.' { a} the second earl remained a catholic, like his father, and a chivalrous avowal of sympathy with mary queen of scots procured him a term of imprisonment in the year preceding his distinguished son's birth. at a youthful age he married a lady of fortune, mary browne, daughter of the first viscount montague, also a catholic. her portrait, now at welbeck, was painted in her early married days, and shows regularly formed features beneath bright auburn hair. two sons and a daughter were the issue of the union. shakespeare's friend, the second son, was born at her father's residence, cowdray house, near midhurst, on october , . he was thus shakespeare's junior by nine years and a half. 'a goodly boy, god bless him!' exclaimed the gratified father, writing of his birth to a friend. { b} but the father barely survived the boy's infancy. he died at the early age of thirty-five--two days before the child's eighth birthday. the elder son was already dead. thus, on october , , the second and only surviving son became third earl of southampton, and entered on his great inheritance. { c} education. as was customary in the case of an infant peer, the little earl became a royal ward--'a child of state'--and lord burghley, the prime minister, acted as the boy's guardian in the queen's behalf. burghley had good reason to be satisfied with his ward's intellectual promise. 'he spent,' wrote a contemporary, 'his childhood and other younger terms in the study of good letters.' at the age of twelve, in the autumn of , he was admitted to st. john's college, cambridge, 'the sweetest nurse of knowledge in all the university.' southampton breathed easily the cultured atmosphere. next summer he sent his guardian, burghley, an essay in ciceronian latin on the somewhat cynical text that 'all men are moved to the pursuit of virtue by the hope of reward.' the argument, if unconvincing, is precocious. 'every man,' the boy tells us, 'no matter how well or how ill endowed with the graces of humanity, whether in the enjoyment of great honour or condemned to obscurity, experiences that yearning for glory which alone begets virtuous endeavour.' the paper, still preserved at hatfield, is a model of calligraphy; every letter is shaped with delicate regularity, and betrays a refinement most uncommon in boys of thirteen. { a} southampton remained at the university for some two years, graduating m.a. at sixteen in . throughout his after life he cherished for his college 'great love and affection.' before leaving cambridge, southampton entered his name at gray's inn. some knowledge of law was deemed needful in one who was to control a landed property that was not only large already but likely to grow. { b} meanwhile he was sedulously cultivating his literary tastes. he took into his 'pay and patronage' john florio, the well-known author and italian tutor, and was soon, according to florio's testimony, as thoroughly versed in italian as 'teaching or learning' could make him. 'when he was young,' wrote a later admirer, 'no ornament of youth was wanting in him;' and it was naturally to the court that his friends sent him at an early age to display his varied graces. he can hardly have been more than seventeen when he was presented to his sovereign. she showed him kindly notice, and the earl of essex, her brilliant favourite, acknowledged his fascination. thenceforth essex displayed in his welfare a brotherly interest which proved in course of time a very doubtful blessing. recognition of southampton's youthful beauty. while still a boy, southampton entered with as much zest into the sports and dissipations of his fellow courtiers as into their literary and artistic pursuits. at tennis, in jousts and tournaments, he achieved distinction; nor was he a stranger to the delights of gambling at primero. in , when he was in his eighteenth year, he was recognised as the most handsome and accomplished of all the young lords who frequented the royal presence. in the autumn of that year elizabeth paid oxford a visit in state. southampton was in the throng of noblemen who bore her company. in a latin poem describing the brilliant ceremonial, which was published at the time at the university press, eulogy was lavished without stint on all the queen's attendants; but the academic poet declared that southampton's personal attractions exceeded those of any other in the royal train. 'no other youth who was present,' he wrote, 'was more beautiful than this prince of hampshire (_quo non formosior alter affuit_), nor more distinguished in the arts of learning, although as yet tender down scarce bloomed on his cheek.' the last words testify to southampton's boyish appearance. { a} next year it was rumoured, that his 'external grace' was to receive signal recognition by his admission, despite his juvenility, to the order of the garter. 'there be no knights of the garter new chosen as yet,' wrote a well-informed courtier on may , , 'but there were four nominated.' { b} three were eminent public servants, but first on the list stood the name of young southampton. the purpose did not take effect, but the compliment of nomination was, at his age, without precedent outside the circle of the sovereign's kinsmen. on november , , he appeared in the lists set up in the queen's presence in honour of the thirty-seventh anniversary of her accession. the poet george peele pictured in blank verse the gorgeous scene, and likened the earl of southampton to that ancient type of chivalry, bevis of southampton, so 'valiant in arms,' so 'gentle and debonair,' did he appear to all beholders. { } reluctance to marry. but clouds were rising on this sunlit horizon. southampton, a wealthy peer without brothers or uncles, was the only male representative of his house. a lawful heir was essential to the entail of his great possessions. early marriages--child-marriages--were in vogue in all ranks of society, and southampton's mother and guardian regarded matrimony at a tender age as especially incumbent on him in view of his rich heritage. when he was seventeen burghley accordingly offered him a wife in the person of his granddaughter, lady elizabeth vere, eldest daughter of his daughter anne and of the earl of oxford. the countess of southampton approved the match, and told burghley that her son was not averse from it. her wish was father to the thought. southampton declined to marry to order, and, to the confusion of his friends, was still a bachelor when he came of age in . nor even then did there seem much prospect of his changing his condition. he was in some ways as young for his years in inward disposition as in outward appearance. although gentle and amiable in most relations of life, he could be childishly self-willed and impulsive, and outbursts of anger involved him, at court and elsewhere, in many petty quarrels which were with difficulty settled without bloodshed. despite his rank and wealth, he was consequently accounted by many ladies of far too uncertain a temper to sustain marital responsibilities with credit. lady bridget manners, sister of his friend the earl of rutland, was in looking to matrimony for means of release from the servitude of a lady-in-waiting to the queen. her guardian suggested that southampton or the earl of bedford, who was intimate with southampton and exactly of his age, would be an eligible suitor. lady bridget dissented. southampton and his friend were, she objected, 'so young,' 'fantastical,' and volatile ('so easily carried away'), that should ill fortune befall her mother, who was 'her only stay,' she 'doubted their carriage of themselves.' she spoke, she said, from observation. { } intrigue with elizabeth vernon. in , at two-and-twenty, southampton justified lady bridget's censure by a public proof of his fallibility. the fair mistress vernon (first cousin of the earl of essex), a passionate beauty of the court, cast her spell on him. her virtue was none too stable, and in september the scandal spread that southampton was courting her 'with too much familiarity.' marriage in . the entanglement with 'his fair mistress' opened a new chapter in southampton's career, and life's tempests began in earnest. either to free himself from his mistress's toils, or to divert attention from his intrigue, he in withdrew from court and sought sterner occupation. despite his mistress's lamentations, which the court gossips duly chronicled, he played a part with his friend essex in the military and naval expedition to cadiz in , and in that to the azores in . he developed a martial ardour which brought him renown, and mars (his admirers said) vied with mercury for his allegiance. he travelled on the continent, and finally, in , he accepted a subordinate place in the suite of the queen's secretary, sir robert cecil, who was going on an embassy to paris. but mistress vernon was still fated to be his evil genius, and southampton learnt while in paris that her condition rendered marriage essential to her decaying reputation. he hurried to london and, yielding his own scruples to her entreaties, secretly made her his wife during the few days he stayed in this country. the step was full of peril. to marry a lady of the court without the queen's consent infringed a prerogative of the crown by which elizabeth set exaggerated store. imprisonment, - . the story of southampton's marriage was soon public property. his wife quickly became a mother, and when he crossed the channel a few weeks later to revisit her he was received by pursuivants, who had the queen's orders to carry him to the fleet prison. for the time his career was ruined. although he was soon released from gaol, all avenues to the queen's favour were closed to him. he sought employment in the wars in ireland, but high command was denied him. helpless and hopeless, he late in joined essex, another fallen favourite, in fomenting a rebellion in london, in order to regain by force the positions each had forfeited. the attempt at insurrection failed, and the conspirators stood their trial on a capital charge of treason on february , - . southampton was condemned to die, but the queen's secretary pleaded with her that 'the poor young earl, merely for the love of essex, had been drawn into this action,' and his punishment was commuted to imprisonment for life. further mitigation was not to be looked for while the queen lived. but essex, southampton's friend, had been james's sworn ally. the first act of james i as monarch of england was to set southampton free (april , ). after a confinement of more than two years, southampton resumed, under happier auspices, his place at court. later career. death on nov. , . southampton's later career does not directly concern the student of shakespeare's biography. after shakespeare had congratulated southampton on his liberty in his sonnet cvii., there is no trace of further relations between them, although there is no reason to doubt that they remained friends to the end. southampton on his release from prison was immediately installed a knight of the garter, and was appointed governor of the isle of wight, while an act of parliament relieved him of all the disabilities incident to his conviction of treason. he was thenceforth a prominent figure in court festivities. he twice danced a correnta with the queen at the magnificent entertainment given at whitehall on august , , in honour of the constable of castile, the special ambassador of spain, who had come to sign a treaty of peace between his sovereign and james i. { } but home politics proved no congenial field for the exercise of southampton's energies. quarrels with fellow-courtiers continued to jeopardise his fortunes. with sir robert cecil, with philip herbert, earl of montgomery, and with the duke of buckingham he had violent disputes. it was in the schemes for colonising the new world that southampton found an outlet for his impulsive activity. he helped to equip expeditions to virginia, and acted as treasurer of the virginia company. the map of the country commemorates his labours as a colonial pioneer. in his honour were named southampton hundred, hampton river, and hampton roads in virginia. finally, in the summer of , at the age of fifty-one, southampton, with characteristic spirit, took command of a troop of english volunteers which was raised to aid the elector palatine, husband of james i's daughter elizabeth, in his struggle with the emperor and the catholics of central europe. with him went his eldest son, lord wriothesley. both on landing in the low countries were attacked by fever. the younger man succumbed at once. the earl regained sufficient strength to accompany his son's body to bergen-op-zoom, but there, on november , he himself died of a lethargy. father and son were both buried in the chancel of the church of titchfield, hampshire, on december . southampton thus outlived shakespeare by more than eight years. iv.--the earl of southampton as a literary patron. southampton's collection of books. southampton's close relations with men of letters of his time give powerful corroboration of the theory that he was the patron whom shakespeare commemorated in the sonnets. from earliest to latest manhood--throughout the dissipations of court life, amid the torments that his intrigue cost him, in the distractions of war and travel--the earl never ceased to cherish the passion for literature which was implanted in him in boyhood. his devotion to his old college, st. john's, is characteristic. when a new library was in course of construction there during the closing years of his life, southampton collected books to the value of pounds wherewith to furnish it. this 'monument of love,' as the college authorities described the benefaction, may still be seen on the shelves of the college library. the gift largely consisted of illuminated manuscripts--books of hours, legends of the saints, and mediaeval chronicles. southampton caused his son to be educated at st. john's, and his wife expressed to the tutors the hope that the boy would 'imitate' his father 'in his love to learning and to them.' references in his letters to poems and plays. even the state papers and business correspondence in which southampton's career is traced are enlivened by references to his literary interests. especially refreshing are the active signs vouchsafed there of his sympathy with the great birth of english drama. it was with plays that he joined other noblemen in in entertaining his chief, sir robert cecil, on the eve of the departure for paris of that embassy in which southampton served cecil as a secretary. in july following southampton contrived to enclose in an official despatch from paris 'certain songs' which he was anxious that sir robert sidney, a friend of literary tastes, should share his delight in reading. twelve months later, while southampton was in ireland, a letter to him from the countess attested that current literature was an everyday topic of their private talk. 'all the news i can send you,' she wrote to her husband, 'that i think will make you merry, is that i read in a letter from london that sir john falstaff is, by his mistress dame pintpot, made father of a goodly miller's thumb--a boy that's all head and very little body; but this is a secret.' { a} this cryptic sentence proves on the part of both earl and countess familiarity with falstaff's adventures in shakespeare's 'henry iv,' where the fat knight apostrophised mrs. quickly as 'good pint pot' (pt. i. ii. iv. ). who the acquaintances were about whom the countess jested thus lightly does not appear, but that sir john, the father of 'the boy that was all head and very little body,' was a playful allusion to sir john's creator is by no means beyond the bounds of possibility. in the letters of sir toby matthew, many of which were written very early in the seventeenth century (although first published in ), the sobriquet of sir john falstaff seems to have been bestowed on shakespeare: 'as that excellent author sir john falstaff sayes, "what for your businesse, news, device, foolerie, and libertie, i never dealt better since i was a man."' { b} his love of the theatre. when, after leaving ireland, southampton spent the autumn of in london, it was recorded that he and his friend lord rutland 'come not to court' but 'pass away the time merely in going to plays every day.' { c} it seems that the fascination that the drama had for southampton and his friends led them to exaggerate the influence that it was capable of exerting on the emotions of the multitude. southampton and essex in february requisitioned and paid for the revival of shakespeare's 'richard ii' at the globe theatre on the day preceding that fixed for their insurrection, in the hope that the play-scene of the deposition of a king might excite the citizens of london to countenance their rebellious design. { d} imprisonment sharpened southampton's zest for the theatre. within a year of his release from the tower in he entertained queen anne of denmark at his house in the strand, and burbage and his fellow players, one of whom was shakespeare, were bidden to present the 'old' play of 'love's labour's lost,' whose 'wit and mirth' were calculated 'to please her majesty exceedingly.' poetic adulation. barnabe barnes's sonnet, . but these are merely accidental testimonies to southampton's literary predilections. it is in literature itself, not in the prosaic records of his political or domestic life, that the amplest proofs survive of his devotion to letters. from the hour that, as a handsome and accomplished lad, he joined the court and made london his chief home, authors acknowledged his appreciation of literary effort of almost every quality and form. he had in his italian tutor florio, whose circle of acquaintance included all men of literary reputation, a mentor who allowed no work of promise to escape his observation. every note in the scale of adulation was sounded in southampton's honour in contemporary prose and verse. soon after the publication, in april , of shakespeare's 'venus and adonis,' with its salutation of southampton, a more youthful apprentice to the poet's craft, barnabe barnes, confided to a published sonnet of unrestrained fervour his conviction that southampton's eyes--'those heavenly lamps'--were the only sources of true poetic inspiration. the sonnet, which is superscribed 'to the right noble and virtuous lord, henry, earl of southampton,' runs: receive, sweet lord, with thy thrice sacred hand (which sacred muses make their instrument) these worthless leaves, which i to thee present, (sprung from a rude and unmanured land) that with your countenance graced, they may withstand hundred-eyed envy's rough encounterment, whose patronage can give encouragement to scorn back-wounding zoilus his band. vouchsafe, right virtuous lord, with gracious eyes-- those heavenly lamps which give the muses light, which give and take in course that holy fire-- to view my muse with your judicial sight: whom, when time shall have taught, by flight, to rise shall to thy virtues, of much worth, aspire. tom nash's addresses. next year a writer of greater power, tom nash, betrayed little less enthusiasm when dedicating to the earl his masterly essay in romance, 'the life of jack wilton.' he describes southampton, who was then scarcely of age, as 'a dear lover and cherisher as well of the lovers of poets as of the poets themselves.' 'a new brain,' he exclaims, 'a new wit, a new style, a new soul, will i get me, to canonise your name to posterity, if in this my first attempt i am not taxed of presumption.' { a} although 'jack wilton' was the first book nash formally dedicated to southampton, it is probable that nash had made an earlier bid for the earl's patronage. in a digression at the close of his 'pierce pennilesse' he grows eloquent in praise of one whom he entitles 'the matchless image of honour and magnificent rewarder of vertue, jove's eagle-borne ganimede, thrice noble amintas.' in a sonnet addressed to 'this renowned lord,' who 'draws all hearts to his love,' nash expresses regret that the great poet, edmund spenser, had omitted to celebrate 'so special a pillar of nobility' in the series of adulatory sonnets prefixed to the 'faerie queene;' and in the last lines of his sonnet nash suggests that spenser suppressed the nobleman's name because few words might not comprise thy fame. { b} southampton was beyond doubt the nobleman in question. it is certain, too, that the earl of southampton was among the young men for whom nash, in hope of gain, as he admitted, penned 'amorous villanellos and qui passas.' one of the least reputable of these efforts of nash survives in an obscene love-poem entitled 'the choosing of valentines,' which may be dated in . not only was this dedicated to southampton in a prefatory sonnet, but in an epilogue, again in the form of a sonnet, nash addressed his young patron as his 'friend.' { } markham's sonnet, . florio's address, . meanwhile, in , the versatile gervase markham inscribed to southampton, in a sonnet, his patriotic poem on sir richard grenville's glorious fight off the azores. markham was not content to acknowledge with barnes the inspiriting force of his patron's eyes, but with blasphemous temerity asserted that the sweetness of his lips, which stilled the music of the spheres, delighted the ear of almighty god. markham's sonnet runs somewhat haltingly thus: thou glorious laurel of the muses' hill, whose eyes doth crown the most victorious pen, bright lamp of virtue, in whose sacred skill lives all the bliss of ear-enchanting men, from graver subjects of thy grave assays, bend thy courageous thoughts unto these lines-- the grave from whence my humble muse doth raise true honour's spirit in her rough designs-- and when the stubborn stroke of my harsh song shall seasonless glide through almighty ears vouchsafe to sweet it with thy blessed tongue whose well-tuned sound stills music in the spheres; so shall my tragic lays be blest by thee and from thy lips suck their eternity. subsequently florio, in associating the earl's name with his great italian-english dictionary--the 'worlde of wordes'--more soberly defined the earl's place in the republic of letters when he wrote: 'as to me and many more the glorious and gracious sunshine of your honour hath infused light and life.' the congratulations of the poets in . the most notable contribution to this chorus of praise is to be found, as i have already shown, in shakespeare's 'sonnets.' the same note of eulogy was sounded by men of letters until southampton's death. when he was released from prison on james i's accession in april , his praises in poets' mouths were especially abundant. not only was that grateful incident celebrated by shakespeare in what is probably the latest of his sonnets (no. cvii.), but samuel daniel and john davies of hereford offered the earl congratulation in more prolonged strains. daniel addressed to southampton many lines like these: the world had never taken so full note of what thou art, hadst thou not been undone: and only thy affliction hath begot more fame than thy best fortunes could have won; for ever by adversity are wrought the greatest works of admiration; and all the fair examples of renown out of distress and misery are grown . . . only the best-compos'd and worthiest hearts god sets to act the hard'st and constanst'st parts. { a} davies was more jubilant: now wisest men with mirth do seem stark mad, and cannot choose--their hearts are all so glad. then let's be merry in our god and king, that made us merry, being ill bestead. southampton, up thy cap to heaven fling, and on the viol there sweet praises sing, for he is come that grace to all doth bring. { b} many like praises, some of later date, by henry locke (or lok), george chapman, joshua sylvester, richard brathwaite, george wither, sir john beaumont, and others could be quoted. beaumont, on southampton's death, wrote an elegy which panegyrises him in the varied capacities of warrior, councillor, courtier, father, and husband. but it is as a literary patron that beaumont insists that he chiefly deserves remembrance: i keep that glory last which is the best, the love of learning which he oft expressed in conversation, and respect to those who had a name in arts, in verse or prose. elegies on southampton. to the same effect are some twenty poems which were published in , just after southampton's death, in a volume entitled 'teares of the isle of wight, shed on the tombe of their most noble valorous and loving captaine and governour, the right honorable henrie, earl of southampton.' the keynote is struck in the opening stanza of the first poem by one francis beale: ye famous poets of the southern isle, strain forth the raptures of your tragic muse, and with your laureate pens come and compile the praises due to this great lord: peruse his globe of worth, and eke his virtues brave, like learned maroes at mecaenas' grave. v.--the true history of thomas thorpe and 'mr. w. h.' the publication of the sonnets in . in francis meres enumerated among shakespeare's best known works his 'sugar'd sonnets among his private friends.' none of shakespeare's sonnets are known to have been in print when meres wrote, but they were doubtless in circulation in manuscript. in two of them were printed for the first time by the piratical publisher, william jaggard, in the opening pages of the first edition of 'the passionate pilgrim.' on january , - , eleazar edgar, a publisher of small account, obtained a license for the publication of a work bearing the title, 'a booke called amours by j. d., with certein other sonnetes by w. s.' no book answering this description is extant. in any case it is doubtful if edgar's venture concerned shakespeare's 'sonnets.' it is more probable that his 'w. s.' was william smith, who had published a collection of sonnets entitled 'chloris' in . { } on may , , a license for the publication of shakespeare's 'sonnets' was granted by the stationers' company to a publisher named thomas thorpe, and shortly afterwards the complete collection as they have reached us was published by thorpe for the first time. to the volume thorpe prefixed a dedication in the following terms: to the onlie begetter of these insuing sonnets mr. w. h., all happinesse and that eternitie promised by our ever-living poet wisheth the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth t. t. the words are fantastically arranged. in ordinary grammatical order they would run: 'the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth [_i.e._ the publisher] t[homas] t[horpe] wisheth mr. w. h., the only begetter of these ensuing sonnets, all happiness and that eternity promised by our ever-living poet.' publishers' dedication. few books of the sixteenth or seventeenth century were ushered into the world without a dedication. in most cases it was the work of the author, but numerous volumes, besides shakespeare's 'sonnets,' are extant in which the publisher (and not the author) fills the role of dedicator. the cause of the substitution is not far to seek. the signing of the dedication was an assertion of full and responsible ownership in the publication, and the publisher in shakespeare's lifetime was the full and responsible owner of a publication quite as often as the author. the modern conception of copyright had not yet been evolved. whoever in the sixteenth or early seventeenth century was in actual possession of a manuscript was for practical purposes its full and responsible owner. literary work largely circulated in manuscript. { } scriveners made a precarious livelihood by multiplying written copies, and an enterprising publisher had many opportunities of becoming the owner of a popular book without the author's sanction or knowledge. when a volume in the reign of elizabeth or james i was published independently of the author, the publisher exercised unchallenged all the owner's rights, not the least valued of which was that of choosing the patron of the enterprise, and of penning the dedicatory compliment above his signature. occasionally circumstances might speciously justify the publisher's appearance in the guise of a dedicator. in the case of a posthumous book it sometimes happened that the author's friends renounced ownership or neglected to assert it. in other instances, the absence of an author from london while his work was passing through the press might throw on the publisher the task of supplying the dedication without exposing him to any charge of sharp practice. but as a rule one of only two inferences is possible when a publisher's name figured at the foot of a dedicatory epistle: either the author was ignorant of the publisher's design, or he had refused to countenance it, and was openly defied. in the case of shakespeare's 'sonnets' it may safely be assumed that shakespeare received no notice of thorpe's intention of publishing the work, and that it was owing to the author's ignorance of the design that the dedication was composed and signed by the 'well-wishing adventurer in setting forth.' but whether author or publisher chose the patron of his wares, the choice was determined by much the same considerations. self-interest was the principle underlying transactions between literary patron and _protege_. publisher, like author, commonly chose as patron a man or woman of wealth and social influence who might be expected to acknowledge the compliment either by pecuniary reward or by friendly advertisement of the volume in their own social circle. at times the publisher, slightly extending the field of choice, selected a personal friend or mercantile acquaintance who had rendered him some service in trade or private life, and was likely to appreciate such general expressions of good will as were the accepted topic of dedications. nothing that was fantastic or mysterious entered into the elizabethan or the jacobean publishers' shrewd schemes of business, and it may be asserted with confidence that it was under the everyday prosaic conditions of current literary traffic that the publisher thorpe selected 'mr. w. h.' as the patron of the original edition of shakespeare's 'sonnets.' thorpe's early life. a study of thorpe's character and career clears the point of doubt. thorpe has been described as a native of warwickshire, shakespeare's county, and a man eminent in his profession. he was neither of these things. he was a native of barnet in middlesex, where his father kept an inn, and he himself through thirty years' experience of the book trade held his own with difficulty in its humblest ranks. he enjoyed the customary preliminary training. { a} at midsummer he was apprenticed for nine years to a reputable printer and stationer, richard watkins. { b} nearly ten years later he took up the freedom of the stationers' company, and was thereby qualified to set up as a publisher on his own account. { c} he was not destitute of a taste for literature; he knew scraps of latin, and recognised a good manuscript when he saw one. but the ranks of london publishers were overcrowded, and such accomplishments as thorpe possessed were poor compensation for a lack of capital or of family connections among those already established in the trade. { d} for many years he contented himself with an obscure situation as assistant or clerk to a stationer more favourably placed. his ownership of the manuscript of marlowe's 'lucan.' his dedicatory address to edward blount in . it was as the self-appointed procurer and owner of an unprinted manuscript--a recognised role for novices to fill in the book trade of the period--that thorpe made his first distinguishable appearance on the stage of literary history. in there fell into his hands in an unexplained manner a written copy of marlowe's unprinted translation of the first book of 'lucan.' thorpe confided his good fortune to edward blount, then a stationer's assistant like himself, but with better prospects. blount had already achieved a modest success in the same capacity of procurer or picker-up of neglected 'copy.' { e} in he became proprietor of marlowe's unfinished and unpublished 'hero and leander,' and found among better-equipped friends in the trade both a printer and a publisher for his treasure-trove. blount good-naturedly interested himself in thorpe's 'find,' and it was through blount's good offices that peter short undertook to print thorpe's manuscript of marlowe's 'lucan,' and walter burre agreed to sell it at his shop in st. paul's churchyard. as owner of the manuscript thorpe exerted the right of choosing a patron for the venture and of supplying the dedicatory epistle. the patron of his choice was his friend blount, and he made the dedication the vehicle of his gratitude for the assistance he had just received. the style of the dedication was somewhat bombastic, but thorpe showed a literary sense when he designated marlowe 'that pure elemental wit,' and a good deal of dry humour in offering to 'his kind and true friend' blount 'some few instructions' whereby he might accommodate himself to the unaccustomed _role_ of patron. { a} for the conventional type of patron thorpe disavowed respect. he preferred to place himself under the protection of a friend in the trade whose goodwill had already stood him in good stead, and was capable of benefiting him hereafter. this venture laid the foundation of thorpe's fortunes. three years later he was able to place his own name on the title-page of two humbler literary prizes--each an insignificant pamphlet on current events. { b} thenceforth for a dozen years his name reappeared annually on one, two, or three volumes. after his operations were few and far between, and they ceased altogether in . he seems to have ended his days in poverty, and has been identified with the thomas thorpe who was granted an alms-room in the hospital of ewelme, oxfordshire, on december , . { a} character of his business. thorpe was associated with the publication of twenty-nine volumes in all, { b} including marlowe's 'lucan;' but in almost all his operations his personal energies were confined, as in his initial enterprise, to procuring the manuscript. for a short period in he occupied a shop, the tiger's head, in st. paul's churchyard, and the fact was duly announced on the title-pages of three publications which he issued in that year. { c} but his other undertakings were described on their title-pages as printed for him by one stationer and sold for him by another; and when any address found mention at all, it was the shopkeeper's address, and not his own. he never enjoyed in permanence the profits or dignity of printing his 'copy' at a press of his own, or selling books on premises of his own, and he can claim the distinction of having pursued in this homeless fashion the well-defined profession of procurer of manuscripts for a longer period than any other known member of the stationers' company. though many others began their career in that capacity, all except thorpe, as far as they can be traced, either developed into printers or booksellers, or, failing in that, betook themselves to other trades. very few of his wares does thorpe appear to have procured direct from the authors. it is true that between and there were issued under his auspices some eight volumes of genuine literary value, including, besides shakespeare's 'sonnets,' three plays by chapman, { d} four works of ben jonson, and coryat's 'odcombian banquet.' but the taint of mysterious origin attached to most of his literary properties. he doubtless owed them to the exchange of a few pence or shillings with a scrivener's hireling; and the transaction was not one of which the author had cognisance. shakespeare's sufferings at publishers' hands. it is quite plain that no negotiation with the author preceded the formation of thorpe's resolve to publish for the first time shakespeare's 'sonnets' in . had shakespeare associated himself with the enterprise, the world would fortunately have been spared thorpe's dedication to 'mr. w. h.' t. t.'s' place would have been filled by 'w. s.' the whole transaction was in thorpe's vein. shakespeare's 'sonnets' had been already circulating in manuscript for eleven years; only two had as yet been printed, and those were issued by the pirate publisher, william jaggard, in the fraudulently christened volume, 'the passionate pilgrim, by william shakespeare,' in . shakespeare, except in the case of his two narrative poems, showed utter indifference to all questions touching the publication of his works. of the sixteen plays of his that were published in his lifetime, not one was printed with his sanction. he made no audible protest when seven contemptible dramas in which he had no hand were published with his name or initials on the title-page while his fame was at its height. with only one publisher of his time, richard field, his fellow-townsman, who was responsible for the issue of 'venus' and 'lucrece,' is it likely that he came into personal relations, and there is nothing to show that he maintained relations with field after the publication of 'lucrece' in . in fitting accord with the circumstance that the publication of the 'sonnets' was a tradesman's venture which ignored the author's feelings and rights, thorpe in both the entry of the book in the 'stationers' registers' and on its title-page brusquely designated it 'shakespeares sonnets,' instead of following the more urbane collocation of words invariably adopted by living authors, viz. 'sonnets by william shakespeare.' the use of initials in dedications of elizabethan and jacobean books. in framing the dedication thorpe followed established precedent. initials run riot over elizabethan and jacobean books. printers and publishers, authors and contributors of prefatory commendations were all in the habit of masking themselves behind such symbols. patrons figured under initials in dedications somewhat less frequently than other sharers in the book's production. but the conditions determining the employment of initials in that relation were well defined. the employment of initials in a dedication was a recognised mark of a close friendship or intimacy between patron and dedicator. it was a sign that the patron's fame was limited to a small circle, and that the revelation of his full name was not a matter of interest to a wide public. such are the dominant notes of almost all the extant dedications in which the patron is addressed by his initials. in samuel rowlands addressed the dedication of his 'betraying of christ' to his 'deare affected _friend_ maister h. w., gentleman.' an edition of robert southwell's 'short rule of life' which appeared in the same year bore a dedication addressed 'to my deare affected _friend_ m. [_i.e._ mr.] d. s., gentleman.' the poet richard barnfield also in the same year dedicated the opening sonnet in his 'poems in divers humours' to his '_friend_ maister r. l.' in dunstan gale dedicated a poem, 'pyramus and thisbe,' to the 'worshipfull his verie _friend_ d. [_i.e._ dr.] b. h. { } frequency of wishes for 'happiness' and 'eternity' in dedicatory greetings. there was nothing exceptional in the words of greeting which thorpe addressed to his patron 'mr. w. h.' they followed a widely adopted formula. dedications of the time usually consisted of two distinct parts. there was a dedicatory epistle, which might touch at any length, in either verse or prose, on the subject of the book and the writer's relations with his patron. but there was usually, in addition, a preliminary salutation confined to such a single sentence as thorpe displayed on the first page of his edition of shakespeare's sonnets. in that preliminary sentence the dedicator habitually 'wisheth' his patron one or more of such blessings as health, long life, happiness, and eternity. 'al perseverance with soules happiness' thomas powell 'wisheth' the countess of kildare on the first page of his 'passionate poet' in . 'all happines' is the greeting of thomas watson, the sonnetteer, to his patron, the earl of oxford, on the threshold of watson's 'passionate century of love.' there is hardly a book published by robert greene between and that does not open with an adjuration before the dedicatory epistle in the form: 'to --- --- robert greene wisheth increase of honour with the full fruition of perfect felicity.' thorpe in shakespeare's sonnets left the salutation to stand alone, and omitted the supplement of a dedicatory epistle; but this, too, was not unusual. there exists an abundance of contemporary examples of the dedicatory salutation without the sequel of the dedicatory epistle. edmund spenser's dedication of the 'faerie queene' to elizabeth consists solely of the salutation in the form of an assurance that the writer 'consecrates these his labours to live with the eternitie of her fame.' michael drayton both in his 'idea, the shepheard's garland' ( ), and in his 'poemes lyrick and pastorall' ( ), confined his address to his patron to a single sentence of salutation. { } richard brathwaite in exclusively saluted the patron of his 'golden fleece' with 'the continuance of god's temporall blessings in this life, with the crowne of immortalitie in the world to come;' while in like manner he greeted the patron of his 'sonnets and madrigals' in the same year with 'the prosperitie of times successe in this life, with the reward of eternitie in the world to come.' it is 'happiness' and 'eternity,' or an equivalent paraphrase, that had the widest vogue among the good wishes with which the dedicator in the early years of the seventeenth century besought his patron's favour on the first page of his book. but thorpe was too self-assertive to be a slavish imitator. his addiction to bombast and his elementary appreciation of literature recommended to him the practice of incorporating in his dedicatory salutation some high-sounding embellishments of the accepted formula suggested by his author's writing. { a} in his dedication of the 'sonnets' to 'mr. w. h.' he grafted on the common formula a reference to the immortality which shakespeare, after the habit of contemporary sonnetteers, promised the hero of his sonnets in the pages that succeeded. with characteristic magniloquence, thorpe added the decorative and supererogatory phrase, 'promised by our ever-living poet,' to the conventional dedicatory wish for his patron's 'all happiness' and 'eternitie.' { b} five dedications by thorpe. thorpe, as far as is known, penned only one dedication before that to shakespeare's 'sonnets.' his dedicatory experience was previously limited to the inscription of marlowe's 'lucan' in to blount, his friend in the trade. three dedications by thorpe survive of a date subsequent to the issue of the 'sonnets.' one of these is addressed to john florio, and the other two to the earl of pembroke. { a} but these three dedications all prefaced volumes of translations by one john healey, whose manuscripts had become thorpe's prey after the author had emigrated to virginia, where he died shortly after landing. thorpe chose, he tells us, florio and the earl of pembroke as patrons of healey's unprinted manuscripts because they had been patrons of healey before his expatriation and death. there is evidence to prove that in choosing a patron for the 'sonnets,' and penning a dedication for the second time, he pursued the exact procedure that he had followed--deliberately and for reasons that he fully stated--in his first and only preceding dedicatory venture. he chose his patron from the circle of his trade associates, and it must have been because his patron was a personal friend that he addressed him by his initials, 'w. h.' 'w. h.' signs dedication of southwell's poems in . shakespeare's 'sonnets' is not the only volume of the period in the introductory pages of which the initials 'w. h.' play a prominent part. in one who concealed himself under the same letters performed for 'a foure-fould meditation' (a collection of pious poems which the jesuit robert southwell left in manuscript at his death) the identical service that thorpe performed for marlowe's 'lucan' in , and for shakespeare's 'sonnets' in . in southwell's manuscript fell into the hands of this 'w. h.,' and he published it through the agency of the printer, george eld, and of an insignificant bookseller, francis burton. { b} 'w. h.,' in his capacity of owner, supplied the dedication with his own pen under his initials. of the jesuit's newly recovered poems 'w. h.' wrote, 'long have they lien hidden in obscuritie, and haply had never scene the light, had not a meere accident conveyed them to my hands. but, having seriously perused them, loath i was that any who are religiously affected, should be deprived of so great a comfort, as the due consideration thereof may bring unto them.' 'w. h.' chose as patron of his venture one mathew saunders, esq., and to the dedicatory epistle prefixed a conventional salutation wishing saunders long life and prosperity. the greeting was printed in large and bold type thus:-- to the right worfhipfull and vertuous gentleman, mathew saunders, efquire w.h. wifheth, with long life, a profperous achieuement of his good defires. there follows in small type, regularly printed across the page, a dedicatory letter--the frequent sequel of the dedicatory salutation--in which the writer, 'w.h.,' commends the religious temper of 'these meditations' and deprecates the coldness and sterility of his own 'conceits.' the dedicator signs himself at the bottom of the page 'your worships unfained affectionate, w.h.' { } the two books--southwell's 'foure-fould meditation' of , and shakespeare's 'sonnets' of --have more in common than the appearance on the preliminary pages of the initials 'w. h.' in a prominent place, and of the common form of dedicatory salutation. both volumes, it was announced on the title-pages, came from the same press--the press of george eld. eld for many years co-operated with thorpe in business. in he printed for thorpe ben jonson's 'sejanus,' and in each of the years , , , and at least one of his ventures was publicly declared to be a specimen of eld's typography. many of thorpe's books came forth without any mention of the printer; but eld's name figures more frequently upon them than that of any other printer. between and it is likely that eld printed all thorpe's 'copy' as matter of course and that he was in constant relations with him. 'w. h.' and mr. william hall. there is little doubt that the 'w. h.' of the southwell volume was mr. william hall, who, when he procured that manuscript for publication, was an humble auxiliary in the publishing army. hall flits rapidly across the stage of literary history. he served an apprenticeship to the printer and stationer john allde from to , and was admitted to the freedom of the stationers' company in the latter year. for the long period of twenty-two years after his release from his indentures he was connected with the trade in a dependent capacity, doubtless as assistant to a master-stationer. when in the manuscript of southwell's poems was conveyed to his hands and he adopted the recognised role of procurer of their publication, he had not set up in business for himself. it was only later in the same year ( ) that he obtained the license of the stationers' company to inaugurate a press in his own name, and two years passed before he began business. in he obtained for publication a theological manuscript which appeared next year with his name on the title-page for the first time. this volume constituted the earliest credential of his independence. it entitled him to the prefix 'mr.' in all social relations. between and he printed some twenty volumes, most of them sermons and almost all devotional in tone. the most important of his secular undertaking was guillim's far-famed 'display of heraldrie,' a folio issued in . in hall printed an account of the conviction and execution of a noted pickpocket, john selman, who had been arrested while professionally engaged in the royal chapel at whitehall. on the title-page hall gave his own name by his initials only. the book was described in bold type as 'printed by w. h.' and as on sale at the shop of thomas archer in st. paul's churchyard. hall was a careful printer with a healthy dread of misprints, but his business dwindled after , and, soon disposing of it to one john beale, he disappeared into private life. 'w. h.' are no uncommon initials, and there is more interest attaching to the discovery of 'mr. w. h.'s' position in life and his function in relation to the scheme of the publication of the 'sonnets' than in establishing his full name. but there is every probability that william hall, the 'w. h.' of the southwell dedication, was one and the same person with the 'mr. w. h.' of thorpe's dedication of the 'sonnets.' no other inhabitant of london was habitually known to mask himself under those letters. william hall was the only man bearing those initials who there is reason to suppose was on familiar terms with thorpe. { a} both were engaged at much the same period in london in the same occupation of procuring manuscripts for publication; both inscribed their literary treasure-trove in the common formula to patrons for whom they claimed no high rank or distinction, and both engaged the same printer to print their most valuable prize. 'the onlie begetter' means 'only procurer'. no condition of the problem of the identity of thorpe's friend 'mr. w. h' seems ignored by the adoption of the interpretation that he was the future master-printer william hall. the objection that 'mr. w. h.' could not have been thorpe's friend in trade, because while wishing him all happiness and eternity thorpe dubs him 'the onlie begetter of these insuing sonnets,' is not formidable. thorpe rarely used words with much exactness. { b} it is obvious that he did not employ 'begetter' in the ordinary sense. 'begetter,' when literally interpreted as applied to a literary work, means father, author, producer, and it cannot be seriously urged that thorpe intended to describe 'mr. w. h.' as the author of the 'sonnets.' 'begetter' has been used in the figurative sense of inspirer, and it is often assumed that by 'onlie begetter' thorpe meant 'sole inspirer,' and that by the use of those words he intended to hint at the close relations subsisting between 'w. h.' and shakespeare in the dramatist's early life; but that interpretation presents numberless difficulties. it was contrary to thorpe's aims in business to invest a dedication with any cryptic significance, and thus mystify his customers. moreover, his career and the circumstances under which he became the publisher of the sonnets confute the assumption that he was in such relations with shakespeare or with shakespeare's associates as would give him any knowledge of shakespeare's early career that was not public property. all that thorpe--the struggling pirate-publisher, 'the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth' wares mysteriously come by--knew or probably cared to know of shakespeare was that he was the most popular and honoured of the literary producers of the day. when thorpe had the luck to acquire surreptitiously an unprinted manuscript by 'our ever-living poet,' it was not in the great man's circle of friends or patrons, to which hitherto he had had no access, that he was likely to seek his own patron. elementary considerations of prudence impelled him to publish his treasure-trove with all expedition, and not disclose his design prematurely to one who might possibly take steps to hinder its fulfilment. but that thorpe had no 'inspirer' of the 'sonnets' in his mind when he addressed himself to 'mr. w. h.' is finally proved by the circumstance that the only identifiable male 'inspirer' of the poems was the earl of southampton, to whom the initials 'w. h.' do not apply. of the figurative meanings set in elizabethan english on the word 'begetter,' that of 'inspirer' is by no means the only one or the most common. 'beget' was not infrequently employed in the attenuated sense of 'get,' 'procure,' or 'obtain,' a sense which is easily deducible from the original one of 'bring into being.' hamlet, when addressing the players, bids them 'in the very whirlwind of passion acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.' 'i have some cousins german at court,' wrote dekker in , in his 'satiro-mastix,' '[that] shall beget you the reversion of the master of the king's revels.' 'mr. w. h.,' whom thorpe described as 'the onlie begetter of these insuing sonnets,' was in all probability the acquirer or procurer of the manuscript, who, figuratively speaking, brought the book into being either by first placing the manuscript in thorpe's hands or by pointing out the means by which a copy might be acquired. to assign such significance to the word 'begetter' was entirely in thorpe's vein. { } thorpe described his _role_ in the piratical enterprise of the 'sonnets' as that of 'the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth,' _i.e._ the hopeful speculator in the scheme. 'mr. w. h.' doubtless played the almost equally important part--one as well known then as now in commercial operations--of the 'vendor' of the property to be exploited. vi.--'mr. william herbert.' origin of the notion that 'mr. w. h.' stands for 'mr. william herbert.' for fully sixty years it has been very generally assumed that shakespeare addressed the bulk of his sonnets to the young earl of pembroke. this theory owes its origin to a speciously lucky guess which was first disclosed to the public in , and won for a time almost universal acceptance. { } thorpe's form of address was held to justify the mistaken inference that, whoever 'mr. w. h.' may have been, he and no other was the hero of the alleged story of the poems; and the cornerstone of the pembroke theory was the assumption that the letters 'mr. w. h.' in the dedication did duty for the words 'mr. william herbert,' by which name the (third) earl of pembroke was represented as having been known in youth. the originators of the theory claimed to discover in the earl of pembroke the only young man of rank and wealth to whom the initials 'w. h' applied at the needful dates. in thus interpreting the initials, the pembroke theorists made a blunder that proves on examination to be fatal to their whole contention. the earl of pembroke known only as lord herbert in youth. the nobleman under consideration succeeded to the earldom of pembroke on his father's death on january , (n. s.), when he was twenty years and nine months old, and from that date it is unquestioned that he was always known by his lawful title. but it has been overlooked that the designation 'mr. william herbert,' for which the initials 'mr. w. h.' have been long held to stand, could never in the mind of thomas thorpe or any other contemporary have denominated the earl at any moment of his career. when he came into the world on april , , his father had been (the second) earl of pembroke for ten years, and he, as the eldest son, was from the hour of his birth known in all relations of life--even in the baptismal entry in the parish register--by the title of lord herbert, and by no other. during the lifetime of his father and his own minority several references were made to him in the extant correspondence of friends of varying degrees of intimacy. he is called by them, without exception, 'my lord herbert,' 'the lord herbert,' or 'lord herbert.' { } it is true that as the eldest son of an earl he held the title by courtesy, but for all practical purposes it was as well recognised in common speech as if he had been a peer in his own right. no one nowadays would address in current parlance, or even entertain the conception of, viscount cranborne, the heir of the present prime minister, as 'mr. j. c.' or 'mr. james cecil.' it is no more legitimate to assert that it would have occurred to an elizabethan--least of all to a personal acquaintance or to a publisher who stood toward his patron in the relation of a personal dependent--to describe 'young lord herbert,' of elizabeth's reign, as 'mr. william herbert.' a lawyer, who in the way of business might have to mention the young lord's name in a legal document, would have entered it as 'william herbert, commonly called lord herbert.' the appellation 'mr.' was not used loosely then as now, but indicated a precise social grade. thorpe's employment of the prefix 'mr.' without qualification is in itself fatal to the pretension that any lord, whether by right or courtesy, was intended. { } thorpe's mode of addressing the earl of pembroke. proof is at hand to establish that thorpe was under no misapprehension as to the proper appellation of the earl of pembroke, and was incapable of venturing on the meaningless misnomer of 'mr. w. h.' insignificant publisher though he was, and sceptical as he was of the merits of noble patrons, he was not proof against the temptation, when an opportunity was directly offered him, of adorning the prefatory pages of a publication with the name of a nobleman, who enjoyed the high official station, the literary culture, and the social influence of the third earl of pembroke. in --a year after he published the 'sonnets'--there came into his hands the manuscripts of john healey, that humble literary aspirant who had a few months before emigrated to virginia, and had, it would seem, died there. healey, before leaving england, had secured through the good offices of john florio (a man of influence in both fashionable and literary circles) the patronage of the earl of pembroke for a translation of bishop hall's fanciful satire, 'mundus alter et idem.' calling his book 'the discoverie of a new world,' healey had prefixed to it, in , an epistle inscribed in garish terms of flattery to the 'truest mirrour of truest honor, william earl of pembroke.' { } when thorpe subsequently made up his mind to publish, on his own account, other translations by the same hand, he found it desirable to seek the same patron. accordingly, in , he prefixed in his own name, to an edition of healey's translation of st. augustine's 'citie of god,' a dedicatory address 'to the honorablest patron of the muses and good mindes, lord william, earle of pembroke, knight of the honourable order (of the garter), &c.' in involved sentences thorpe tells the 'right gracious and gracefule lord' how the author left the work at death to be a 'testimonie of gratitude, observance, and heart's honor to your honour.' 'wherefore,' he explains, 'his legacie, laide at your honour's feete, is rather here delivered to your honour's humbly thrise-kissed hands by his poore delegate. your lordship's true devoted, th. th.' again, in , when thorpe procured the issue of a second edition of another of healey's translations, 'epictetus manuall. cebes table. theoprastus characters,' he supplied more conspicuous evidence of the servility with which he deemed it incumbent on him to approach a potent patron. as this address by thorpe to pembroke is difficult of access, i give it _in extenso_: 'to the right honourable, william earle of pembroke, lord chamberlaine to his majestie, one of his most honorable privie counsell, and knight of the most noble order of the garter, &c. 'right honorable.--it may worthily seeme strange unto your lordship, out of what frenzy one of my meanenesse hath presumed to commit this sacriledge, in the straightnesse of your lordship's leisure, to present a peece, for matter and model so unworthy, and in this scribbling age, wherein great persons are so pestered dayly with dedications. all i can alledge in extenuation of so many incongruities, is the bequest of a deceased man; who (in his lifetime) having offered some translations of his unto your lordship, ever wisht if _these ensuing_ were published they might onely bee addressed unto your lordship, as the last testimony of his dutifull affection (to use his own termes) _the true and reall upholder of learned endeavors_. this, therefore, beeing left unto mee, as a legacie unto your lordship (pardon my presumption, great lord, from so meane a man to so great a person) i could not without some impiety present it to any other; such a sad priviledge have the bequests of the _dead_, and so obligatory they are, more than the requests of the _living_. in the hope of this honourable acceptance i will ever rest, 'your lordship's humble devoted, 't. th.' with such obeisances did publishers then habitually creep into the presence of the nobility. in fact, the law which rigorously maintained the privileges of peers left them no option. the alleged erroneous form of address in the dedication of shakespeare's 'sonnets'--'mr. w. h.' for lord herbert or the earl of pembroke--would have amounted to the offence of defamation. and for that misdemeanour the star chamber, always active in protecting the dignity of peers, would have promptly called thorpe to account. { } of the earl of pembroke, and of his brother the earl of montgomery, it was stated a few years later, 'from just observation,' on very pertinent authority, that 'no men came near their lordships [in their capacity of literary patrons], but with a kind of religious address.' these words figure in the prefatory epistle which two actor-friends of shakespeare addressed to the two earls in the posthumously issued first folio of the dramatist's works. thorpe's 'kind of religious address' on seeking lord pembroke's patronage for healey's books was somewhat more unctuous than was customary or needful. but of erring conspicuously in an opposite direction he may, without misgiving, be pronounced innocent. vii.--shakespeare and the earl of pembroke. with the disposal of the allegation that 'mr. w. h.' represented the earl of pembroke's youthful name, the whole theory of that earl's identity with shakespeare's friend collapses. outside thorpe's dedicatory words, only two scraps of evidence with any title to consideration have been adduced to show that shakespeare was at any time or in any way associated with pembroke. shakespeare with the acting company at wilton in . in the late autumn of james i and his court were installed at the earl of pembroke's house at wilton for a period of two months, owing to the prevalence of the plague in london. by order of the officers of the royal household, the king's company of players, of which shakespeare was a member, gave a performance before the king at wilton house on december . the actors travelled from mortlake for the purpose, and were paid in the ordinary manner by the treasurer of the royal household out of the public funds. there is no positive evidence that shakespeare attended at wilton with the company, but assuming, as is probable, that he did, the earl of pembroke can be held no more responsible for his presence than for his repeated presence under the same conditions at whitehall. the visit of the king's players to wilton in has no bearing on the earl of pembroke's alleged relations with shakespeare. { } the dedication of the first folio. the second instance of the association in the seventeenth century of shakespeare's name with pembroke's tells wholly against the conjectured intimacy. seven years after the dramatist's death, two of his friends and fellow-actors prepared the collective edition of his plays known as the first folio, and they dedicated the volume, in the conventional language of eulogy, 'to the most noble and incomparable paire of brethren, william earl of pembroke, &c., lord chamberlaine to the king's most excellent majesty, and philip, earl of montgomery, &c., gentleman of his majesties bedchamber. both knights of the most noble order of the garter and our singular good lords.' the choice of such patrons, whom, as the dedication intimated, 'no one came near but with a kind of religious address,' proves no private sort of friendship between them and the dead author. to the two earls in partnership nearly every work of any literary pretension was dedicated at the period. moreover, the third earl of pembroke was lord chamberlain in , and exercised supreme authority in theatrical affairs. that his patronage should be sought for a collective edition of the works of the acknowledged master of the contemporary stage was a matter of course. it is only surprising that the editors should have yielded to the passing vogue of soliciting the patronage of the lord chamberlain's brother in conjunction with the lord chamberlain. the sole passage in the editors' dedication that can be held to bear on the question of shakespeare's alleged intimacy with pembroke is to be found in their remarks: 'but since your lordships have beene pleas'd to thinke these trifles something, heretofore; and have prosequuted both them, and their authour living, with so much favour: we hope that (they outliving him, and he not having the fate, common with some, to be exequutor to his owne writings) you will use the like indulgence toward them you have done unto their parent. there is a great difference, whether any booke choose his patrones, or find them: this hath done both. for, so much were your lordships' likings of the severall parts, when they were acted, as, before they were published, the volume ask'd to be yours.' there is nothing whatever in these sentences that does more than justify the inference that the brothers shared the enthusiastic esteem which james i and all the noblemen of his court extended to shakespeare and his plays in the dramatist's lifetime. apart from his work as a dramatist, shakespeare, in his capacity of one of 'the king's servants' or company of players, was personally known to all the officers of the royal household who collectively controlled theatrical representations at court. throughout james i's reign his plays were repeatedly performed in the royal presence, and when the dedicators of the first folio, at the conclusion of their address to lords pembroke and montgomery, describe the dramatist's works as 'these remaines of your _servant_ shakespeare,' they make it quite plain that it was in the capacity of 'king's servant' or player that they knew him to have been the object of their noble patrons' favour. no suggestion in the sonnets of the youth's identity with pembroke. the sonnets offer no internal indication that the earl of pembroke and shakespeare ever saw each other. nothing at all is deducible from the vague parallelisms that have been adduced between the earl's character and position in life and those with which the poet credited the youth of the sonnets. it may be granted that both had a mother (sonnet iii.), that both enjoyed wealth and rank, that both were regarded by admirers as cultivated, that both were self-indulgent in their relations with women, and that both in early manhood were indisposed to marry, owing to habits of gallantry. of one alleged point of resemblance there is no evidence. the loveliness assigned to shakespeare's youth was not, as far as we can learn, definitely set to pembroke's account. francis davison, when dedicating his 'poetical rhapsody' to the earl in in a very eulogistic sonnet, makes a cautiously qualified reference to the attractiveness of his person in the lines: [his] outward shape, though it most lovely be, doth in fair robes a fairer soul attire. the only portraits of him that survive represent him in middle age, { } and seem to confute the suggestion that he was reckoned handsome at any time of life; at most they confirm anthony wood's description of him as in person 'rather majestic than elegant.' but the point is not one of moment, and the argument neither gains nor loses, if we allow that pembroke may, at any rate in the sight of a poetical panegyrist, have at one period reflected, like shakespeare's youth, 'the lovely april of his mother's prime.' but when we have reckoned up the traits that can, on any showing, be admitted to be common to both pembroke and shakespeare's alleged friend, they all prove to be equally indistinctive. all could be matched without difficulty in a score of youthful noblemen and gentlemen of elizabeth's court. direct external evidence of shakespeare's friendly intercourse with one or other of elizabeth's young courtiers must be produced before the sonnets' general references to the youth's beauty and grace can render the remotest assistance in establishing his identity. aubrey's ignorance of any relation between shakespeare and pembroke. although it may be reckoned superfluous to adduce more arguments, negative or positive, against the theory that the earl of pembroke was a youthful friend of shakespeare, it is worth noting that john aubrey, the wiltshire antiquary, and the biographer of most englishmen of distinction of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, was zealously researching from onwards into the careers alike of shakespeare and of various members of the earl of pembroke's family--one of the chief in wiltshire. aubrey rescued from oblivion many anecdotes--scandalous and otherwise--both about the third earl of pembroke and about shakespeare. of the former he wrote in his 'natural history of wiltshire' (ed. britton, ), recalling the earl's relations with massinger and many other men of letters. of shakespeare, aubrey narrated much lively gossip in his 'lives of eminent persons.' but neither in his account of pembroke nor in his account of shakespeare does he give any hint that they were at any time or in any manner acquainted or associated with one another. had close relations existed between them, it is impossible that all trace of them would have faded from the traditions that were current in aubrey's time and were embodied in his writings. { } viii.--the 'will' sonnets. no one has had the hardihood to assert that the text of the sonnets gives internally any indication that the youth's name took the hapless form of 'william herbert;' but many commentators argue that in three or four sonnets shakespeare admits in so many words that the youth bore his own christian name of will, and even that the disdainful lady had among her admirers other gentlemen entitled in familiar intercourse to similar designation. these are fantastic assumptions which rest on a misconception of shakespeare's phraseology and of the character of the conceits of the sonnets, and are solely attributable to the fanatical anxiety of the supporters of the pembroke theory to extort, at all hazards, some sort of evidence in their favour from shakespeare's text. { } elizabethan meanings of 'will.' in two sonnets (cxxxv.-vi.)--the most artificial and 'conceited' in the collection--the poet plays somewhat enigmatically on his christian name of 'will,' and a similar pun has been doubtfully detected in sonnets cxxxiv. and cxlvii. the groundwork of the pleasantry is the identity in form of the proper name with the common noun 'will.' this word connoted in elizabethan english a generous variety of conceptions, of most of which it has long since been deprived. then, as now, it was employed in the general psychological sense of volition; but it was more often specifically applied to two limited manifestations of the volition. it was the commonest of synonyms alike for 'self will' or 'stubbornness'--in which sense it still survives in 'wilful'--and for 'lust,' or 'sensual passion.' it also did occasional duty for its own diminutive 'wish,' for 'caprice,' for 'good-will,' and for 'free consent' (as nowadays in 'willing,' or 'willingly'). shakespeare's uses of the word. shakespeare constantly used 'will' in all these significations. iago recognised its general psychological value when he said, 'our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.' the conduct of the 'will' is discussed after the manner of philosophy in 'troilus and cressida' (ii. ii. - ). in another of iago's sentences, 'love is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will,' light is shed on the process by which the word came to be specifically applied to sensual desire. the last is a favourite sense with shakespeare and his contemporaries. angelo and isabella, in 'measure for measure,' are at one in attributing their conflict to the former's 'will.' the self-indulgent bertram, in 'all's well,' 'fleshes his "will" in the spoil of a gentlewoman's honour.' in 'lear' (iv. vi. ) regan's heartless plot to seduce her brother-in-law is assigned to 'the undistinguished space'--the boundless range--'of woman's will.' similarly, sir philip sidney apostrophised lust as 'thou web of will.' thomas lodge, in 'phillis' (sonnet xi.), warns lovers of the ruin that menaces all who 'guide their course by will.' nicholas breton's fantastic romance of , entitled 'the will of wit, wit's will or will's wit, chuse you whether,' is especially rich in like illustrations. breton brings into marked prominence the antithesis which was familiar in his day between 'will' in its sensual meaning, and 'wit,' the elizabethan synonym for reason or cognition. 'a song between wit and will' opens thus: _wit_: what art thou, will? _will_: a babe of nature's brood, _wit_: who was thy sire? _will_: sweet lust, as lovers say. _wit_: thy mother who? _will_: wild lusty wanton blood. _wit_: when wast thou born? _will_: in merry month of may. _wit_: and where brought up? _will_: in school of little skill. _wit_: what learn'dst thou there? _will_: love is my lesson still. of the use of the word in the sense of stubbornness or self-will roger ascham gives a good instance in his 'scholemaster,' ( ), where he recommends that such a vice in children as 'will,' which he places in the category of lying, sloth, and disobedience, should be 'with sharp chastisement daily cut away.' { a} 'a woman will have her will' was, among elizabethan wags, an exceptionally popular proverbial phrase, the point of which revolved about the equivocal meaning of the last word. the phrase supplied the title of 'a pleasant comedy,' by william haughton, which--from onwards--held the stage for the unusually prolonged period of forty years. 'women, because they cannot have their wills when they dye, they will have their wills while they live,' was a current witticism which the barrister manningham deemed worthy of record in his 'diary' in . { b} shakespeare's puns on the word. it was not only in the sonnets that shakespeare--almost invariably with a glance at its sensual significance--rang the changes on this many-faced verbal token. in his earliest play, 'love's labour's lost' (ii. i. - ), after the princess has tauntingly assured the king of navarre that he will break his vow to avoid women's society, the king replies, 'not for the world, fair madam, by my _will_' (_i.e._ willingly). the princess retorts 'why _will_ (_i.e._ sensual desire) shall break it (_i.e._ the vow), _will_ and nothing else.' in 'much ado' (v. iv. seq.), when benedick, anxious to marry beatrice, is asked by the lady's uncle 'what's your will?' he playfully lingers on the word in his answer. as for his 'will,' his 'will' is that the uncle's 'goodwill may stand with his' and beatrice's 'will'--in other words that the uncle may consent to their union. slender and anne page vary the tame sport when the former misinterprets the young lady's 'what is your will?' into an inquiry into the testamentary disposition of his property. to what depth of vapidity shakespeare and contemporary punsters could sink is nowhere better illustrated than in the favour they bestowed on efforts to extract amusement from the parities and disparities of form and meaning subsisting between the words 'will' and 'wish,' the latter being in vernacular use as a diminutive of the former. twice in the 'two gentlemen of verona' (i. iii. and iv. ii. ) shakespeare almost strives to invest with the flavour of epigram the unpretending announcement that one interlocutor's 'wish' is in harmony with another interlocutor's 'will.' it is in this vein of pleasantry--'will' and 'wish' are identically contrasted in sonnet cxxxv.--that shakespeare, to the confusion of modern readers, makes play with the word 'will' in the sonnets, and especially in the two sonnets (cxxxv.-vi.) which alone speciously justify the delusion that the lady is courted by two, or more than two, lovers of the name of will. arbitrary and irregular use of italics by elizabethan and jacobean printers. one of the chief arguments advanced in favour of this interpretation is that the word 'will' in these sonnets is frequently italicised in the original edition. but this has little or no bearing on the argument. the corrector of the press recognised that sonnets cxxxv. and cxxxvi. largely turned upon a simple pun between the writer's name of 'will' and the lady's 'will.' that fact, and no other, he indicated very roughly by occasionally italicising the crucial word. typography at the time followed no firmly fixed rules, and, although 'will' figures in a more or less punning sense nineteen times in these sonnets, the printer bestowed on the word the distinction of italics in only ten instances, and those were selected arbitrarily. the italics indicate the obvious equivoque, and indicate it imperfectly. that is the utmost that can be laid to their credit. they give no hint of the far more complicated punning that is alleged by those who believe that 'will' is used now as the name of the writer, and now as that of one or more of the rival suitors. in each of the two remaining sonnets that have been forced into the service of the theory, nos. cxxxiv. and cxliii., 'will' occurs once only; it alone is italicised in the second sonnet in the original edition, and there, in my opinion, arbitrarily and without just cause. { } the conceits of sonnets cxxxv-vi. interpreted. the general intention of the complex conceits of sonnets cxxxv. and cxxxvi. becomes obvious when we bear in mind that in them shakespeare exploits to the uttermost the verbal coincidences which are inherent in the elizabethan word 'will.' 'will' is the christian name of the enslaved writer; 'will' is the sentiment with which the lady inspires her worshippers; and 'will' designates stubbornness as well as sensual desire. these two characteristics, according to the poet's reiterated testimony, are the distinguishing marks of the lady's disposition. he often dwells elsewhere on her 'proud heart' or 'foul pride,' and her sensuality or 'foul faults.' these are her 'wills,' and they make up her being. in crediting the lady with such constitution shakespeare was not recording any definite observation or experience of his own, but was following, as was his custom, the conventional descriptions of the disdainful mistress common to all contemporary collections of sonnets. barnabe barnes asks the lady celebrated in his sonnets, from whose 'proud disdainfulness' he suffered, why dost thou my delights delay, and with thy cross unkindness kills (_sic_) mine heart, bound martyr to thy wills? barnes answers his question in the next lines: but women will have their own wills, since what she lists her heart fulfils. { } similar passages abound in elizabethan sonnets, but certain verbal similarities give good ground for regarding shakespeare's 'will' sonnets as deliberate adaptations--doubtless with satiric purpose--of barnes's stereotyped reflections on women's obduracy. the form and the constant repetition of the word 'will' in these two sonnets of shakespeare also seem to imitate derisively the same rival's sonnets lxxii. and lxxiii. in which barnes puts the words 'grace' and 'graces' through much the same evolutions as shakespeare puts the words 'will' and 'wills' in the sonnets cxxxv. and cxxxvi. { a} shakespeare's 'sonnet' cxxxv. runs: whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will, and will to boot, and will in over-plus; more than enough am i that vex thee still, to thy sweet will making addition thus. wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, { b} not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? shall will in others seem right gracious, and in my will no fair acceptance shine? the sea, all water, yet receives rain still, and in abundance addeth to his store; so thou, being rich in will, add to thy will one will of mine, to make thy large will more. let no unkind no fair beseechers kill; think all but one, and me in that one--will. sonnet cxxxv. in the opening words, 'whoever hath her wish,' the poet prepares the reader for the punning encounter by a slight variation on the current catch-phrase 'a woman will have her will.' at the next moment we are in the thick of the wordy fray. the lady has not only her lover named will, but untold stores of 'will'--in the sense alike of stubbornness and of lust--to which it seems supererogatory to make addition. { c} to the lady's 'over-plus' of 'will' is punningly attributed her defiance of the 'will' of her suitor will to enjoy her favours. at the same time 'will' in others proves to her 'right gracious,' { a} although in him it is unacceptable. all this, the poet hazily argues, should be otherwise; for as the sea, although rich in water, does not refuse the falling rain, but freely adds it to its abundant store, so she, 'rich in will,' should accept her lover will's 'will' and 'make her large will more.' the poet sums up his ambition in the final couplet: let no unkind no fair beseechers kill; think all but one, and me in that one--will. this is as much as to say, 'let not my mistress in her unkindness kill any of her fair-spoken adorers. rather let her think all who beseech her favours incorporate in one alone of her lovers--and that one the writer whose name of "will" is a synonym for the passions that dominate her.' the thought is wiredrawn to inanity, but the words make it perfectly clear that the poet was the only one of the lady's lovers--to the definite exclusion of all others--whose name justified the quibbling pretence of identity with the 'will' which controls her being. sonnet cxxxvi. the same equivocating conceit of the poet will's title to identity with the lady's 'will' in all senses is pursued in sonnet cxxxvi. the sonnet opens: if thy soul check thee that i come so near, swear to thy blind soul that i was thy will, { b} and will thy soul knows is admitted there. here shakespeare adapts to his punning purpose the familiar philosophic commonplace respecting the soul's domination by 'will' or volition, which was more clearly expressed by his contemporary, sir john davies, in the philosophic poem, 'nosce teipsum:' will holds the royal sceptre in the soul, and on the passions of the heart doth reign. whether shakespeare's lines be considered with their context or without it, the tenor of their thought and language positively refutes the commentators' notion that the 'will' admitted to the lady's soul is a rival lover named will. the succeeding lines run: thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. { a} will will fulfil the treasure of thy love; ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. in things of great receipt with ease we prove among a number one is reckon'd none: then in the number let me pass untold, though in thy stores' account, i one must be; for nothing hold me, so it please thee hold that nothing me, a something sweet to thee. here the poet will continues to claim, in punning right of his christian name, a place, however small and inconspicuous, among the 'wills,' the varied forms of will (_i.e._ lust, stubbornness, and willingness to accept others' attentions), which are the constituent elements of the lady's being. the plural 'wills' is twice used in identical sense by barnabe barnes in the lines already quoted: mine heart, bound martyr to thy _wills_. but women will have their own _wills_. impulsively shakespeare brings his fantastic pretension to a somewhat more practical issue in the concluding apostrophe: make but my name thy love, and love that still, and then thou lovest me--for my name is will. { b} that is equivalent to saying 'make "will"' (_i.e._ that which is yourself) 'your love, and then you love me, because will is my name.' the couplet proves even more convincingly than the one which clinches the preceding sonnet that none of the rivals whom the poet sought to displace in the lady's affections could by any chance have been, like himself, called will. the writer could not appeal to a mistress to concentrate her love on his name of will, because it was the emphatic sign of identity between her being and him, if that name were common to him and one or more rivals, and lacked exclusive reference to himself. loosely as shakespeare's sonnets were constructed, the couplet at the conclusion of each poem invariably summarises the general intention of the preceding twelve lines. the concluding couplets of these two sonnets cxxxv.-vi., in which shakespeare has been alleged to acknowledge a rival of his own name in his suit for a lady's favour, are consequently the touchstone by which the theory of 'more wills than one' must be tested. as we have just seen, the situation is summarily embodied in the first couplet thus: let no unkind no fair beseechers kill; think all but one, and me in that one--will. it is re-embodied in the second couplet thus: make but my name thy love, and love that still, and then thou lovest me--for my name is will. the whole significance of both couplets resides in the twice-repeated fact that one, and only one, of the lady's lovers is named will, and that that one is the writer. to assume that the poet had a rival of his own name is to denude both couplets of all point. 'will,' we have learned from the earlier lines of both sonnets, is the lady's ruling passion. punning mock-logic brings the poet in either sonnet to the ultimate conclusion that one of her lovers may, above all others, reasonably claim her love on the ground that his name of will is the name of her ruling passion. thus his pretension to her affections rests, he punningly assures her, on a strictly logical basis. sonnet cxxxiv. meaning of sonnet cxliii. unreasonable as any other interpretation of these sonnets (cxxxv.-vi.) seems to be, i believe it far more fatuous to seek in the single and isolated use of the word 'will' in each of the sonnets cxxxiv. and cxliii. any confirmation of the theory of a rival suitor named will. sonnet cxxxiv. runs: so now i have confess'd that he is thine, and i myself am mortgaged to thy will. { } myself i'll forfeit, so that other mine thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still. but thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, for thou art covetous and he is kind. he learn'd but surety-like to write for me, under that bond that him as fast doth bind. the statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, thou usurer, that putt'st forth all to use, and sue a friend came debtor for my sake; so him i lose through my unkind abuse. him have i lost; thou hast both him and me; he pays the whole, and yet am i not free. here the poet describes himself as 'mortgaged to the lady's will' (_i.e._ to her personality, in which 'will,' in the double sense of stubbornness and sensual passion, is the strongest element). he deplores that the lady has captivated not merely himself, but also his friend, who made vicarious advances to her. sonnet cxliii. runs: lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch one of her feathered creatures broke away, sets down her babe, and makes all swift despatch in pursuit of the thing she would have stay; whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, cries to catch her whose busy care is bent to follow that which flies before her face, not prizing her poor infant's discontent: so runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, whilst i, thy babe, chase thee afar behind; but if thou catch thy hope turn back to me, and play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind: so will i pray that thou mayst have thy will, { } if thou turn back and my loud crying still. in this sonnet--which presents a very clear-cut picture, although its moral is somewhat equivocal--the poet represents the lady as a country housewife and himself as her babe; while an acquaintance, who attracts the lady but is not attracted by her, is figured as a 'feathered creature' in the housewife's poultry-yard. the fowl takes to flight; the housewife sets down her infant and pursues 'the thing.' the poet, believing apparently that he has little to fear from the harmless creature, lightly makes play with the current catch-phrase ('a woman will have her will'), and amiably wishes his mistress success in her chase, on condition that, having recaptured the truant bird, she turn back and treat him, her babe, with kindness. in praying that the lady may have her 'will' the poet is clearly appropriating the current catch-phrase, and no pun on a man's name of 'will' can be fairly wrested from the context. ix.--the vogue of the elizabethan sonnet, - . the sonnetteering vogue, as i have already pointed out, { a} reached its full height between and , and when at its briskest in it drew shakespeare into its current. an enumeration of volumes containing sonnet-sequences or detached sonnets that were in circulation during the period best illustrates the overwhelming force of the sonnetteering rage of those years, and, with that end in view, i give here a bibliographical account, with a few critical notes, of the chief efforts of shakespeare's rival sonnetteers. { b} wyatt's and surrey's sonnets, published in . watson's 'centurie of love,' . the earliest collections of sonnets to be published in england were those by the earl of surrey and sir thomas wyatt, which first appeared in the publisher tottel's poetical miscellany called 'songes and sonnetes' in . this volume included sixteen sonnets by surrey and twenty by wyatt. many of them were translated directly from petrarch, and most of them treated conventionally of the torments of an unrequited love. surrey included, however, three sonnets on the death of his friend wyatt, and a fourth on the death of one clere, a faithful follower. tottel's volume was seven times reprinted by . but no sustained endeavour was made to emulate the example of surrey and wyatt till thomas watson about circulated in manuscript his 'booke of passionate sonnetes,' which he wrote for his patron, the earl of oxford. the volume was printed in , under the title of '[greek text], or passionate centurie of loue. divided into two parts: whereof the first expresseth the authours sufferance on loue: the latter his long farewell to loue and all his tyrannie. composed by thomas watson, and published at the request of certaine gentlemen his very frendes.' watson's work, which he called 'a toy,' is a curious literary mosaic. he supplied to each poem a prose commentary, in which he not only admitted that every conceit was borrowed, but quoted chapter and verse for its origin from classical literature or from the work of french or italian sonnetteers. { a} two regular quatorzains are prefixed, but to each of the 'passions' there is appended a four-line stanza which gives each poem eighteen instead of the regular fourteen lines. watson's efforts were so well received, however, that he applied himself to the composition of a second series of sonnets in strict metre. this collection, entitled 'the teares of fancie,' only circulated in manuscript in his lifetime. { b} sidney's 'astrophel and stella,' . meanwhile a greater poet, sir philip sidney, who died in , had written and circulated among his friends a more ambitious collection of a hundred and eight sonnets. most of sidney's sonnets were addressed by him under the name of astrophel to a beautiful woman poetically designated stella. sidney had in real life courted assiduously the favour of a married lady, penelope, lady rich, and a few of the sonnets are commonly held to reflect the heat of passion which the genuine intrigue developed. but petrarch, ronsard, and desportes inspired the majority of sidney's efforts, and his addresses to abstractions like sleep, the moon, his muse, grief, or lust, are almost verbatim translations from the french. sidney's sonnets were first published surreptitiously, under the title of 'astrophel and stella,' by a publishing adventurer named thomas newman, and in his first issue newman added an appendix of 'sundry other rare sonnets by divers noblemen and gentlemen.' twenty-eight sonnets by daniel were printed in the appendix anonymously and without the author's knowledge. two other editions of sidney's 'astrophel and stella' without the appendix were issued in the same year. eight other of sidney's sonnets, which still circulated only in manuscript, were first printed anonymously in with the sonnets of henry constable, and these were appended with some additions to the authentic edition of sidney's 'arcadia' and other works that appeared in . sidney enjoyed in the decade that followed his death the reputation of a demi-god, and the wide dissemination in print of his numerous sonnets in spurred nearly every living poet in england to emulate his achievement. { a} in order to facilitate a comparison of shakespeare's sonnets with those of his contemporaries it will be best to classify the sonnetteering efforts that immediately succeeded sidney's under the three headings of ( ) sonnets of more or less feigned love, addressed to a more or less fictitious mistress; ( ) sonnets of adulation, addressed to patrons; and ( ) sonnets invoking metaphysical abstractions or treating impersonally of religion or philosophy. { b} ( ) collected sonnets of feigned love. daniel's 'delia,' . in february samuel daniel published a collection of fifty-five sonnets, with a dedicatory sonnet addressed to his patroness, sidney's sister, the countess of pembroke. as in many french volumes, the collection concluded with an 'ode.' { c} at every point daniel betrayed his indebtedness to french sonnetteers, even when apologising for his inferiority to petrarch (no. xxxviii.) his title he borrowed from the collection of maurice seve, whose assemblage of dixains called 'delie, objet de plus haute vertu' (lyon, ), was the pattern of all sonnet-sequences on love, and was a constant theme of commendation among the later french sonnetteers. but it is to desportes that daniel owes most, and his methods of handling his material may be judged by a comparison of his sonnet xxvi. with sonnet lxiii. in desportes' collection, 'cleonice: dernieres amours,' which was issued at paris in . desportes' sonnet runs: je verray par les ans vengeurs de mon martyre que l'or de vos cheveux argente deviendra, que de vos deux soleils la splendeur s'esteindra, et qu'il faudra qu'amour tout confus s'en retire. la beaute qui si douce a present vous inspire, cedant aux lois du temps ses faveurs reprendra, l'hiver de vostre teint les fleurettes perdra, et ne laissera rien des thresors que i'admire. cest orgueil desdaigneux qui vous fait ne m'aimer, en regret et chagrin se verra transformer, avec le changement d'une image si belle: et peut estre qu'alors vous n'aurez desplaisir de revivre en mes vers chauds d'amoureux desir, ainsi que le phenix au feu se renouvelle. this is daniel's version, which he sent forth as an original production: i once may see, when years may wreck my wrong, and golden hairs may change to silver wire; and those bright rays (that kindle all this fire) shall fail in force, their power not so strong, her beauty, now the burden of my song, whose glorious blaze the world's eye doth admire, must yield her praise to tyrant time's desire; then fades the flower, which fed her pride so long, when if she grieve to gaze her in her glass, which then presents her winter-withered hue: go you my verse! go tell her what she was! for what she was, she best may find in you. your fiery heat lets not her glory pass, but phoenix-like to make her live anew. in daniel's beautiful sonnet (xlix.) beginning, care-charmer sleep, son of the sable night, brother to death, in silent darkness born, he has borrowed much from de baif and pierre de brach, sonnetteers with whom it was a convention to invocate 'o sommeil chasse-soin.' but again he chiefly relies on desportes, whose words he adapts with very slight variations. sonnet lxxiii. of desportes' 'amours d'hippolyte' opens thus: sommeil, paisible fils de la nuict solitaire . . . o frere de la mort, que tu m'es ennemi! fame of daniel's sonnets. daniel's sonnets were enthusiastically received. with some additions they were republished in with his narrative poem, 'the complaint of rosamund.' the volume was called 'delia and rosamund augmented.' spenser, in his 'colin clouts come home againe,' lauded the 'well-tuned song' of daniel's sonnets, and shakespeare has some claim to be classed among daniel's many sonnetteering disciples. the anonymous author of 'zepheria' ( ) declared that the 'sweet tuned accents' of 'delian sonnetry' rang throughout england; while bartholomew griffin, in his 'fidessa' ( ), openly plagiarised daniel, invoking in his sonnet xv. 'care-charmer sleep, . . . brother of quiet death.' constable's 'diana,' . in september of the same year ( ) that saw the first complete version of daniel's 'delia,' henry constable published 'diana: the praises of his mistres in certaine sweete sonnets.' like the title, the general tone was drawn from desportes' 'amours de diane.' twenty-one poems were included, all in the french vein. the collection was reissued, with very numerous additions, in under the title 'diana; or, the excellent conceitful sonnets of h. c. augmented with divers quatorzains of honourable and learned personages.' this volume is a typical venture of the booksellers. { } the printer, james roberts, and the publisher, richard smith, supplied dedications respectively to the reader and to queen elizabeth's ladies-in-waiting. they had swept together sonnets in manuscript from all quarters and presented their customers with a disordered miscellany of what they called 'orphan poems.' besides the twenty sonnets by constable, eight were claimed for sir philip sidney, and the remaining forty-seven are by various hands which have not as yet been identified. barnes' sonnets, . in the legion of sonnetteers received notable reinforcements. in may came out barnabe barnes's interesting volume, 'parthenophil and parthenophe: sonnets, madrigals, elegies, and odes. to the right noble and virtuous gentleman, m. william percy, esq., his dearest friend.' { a} the contents of the volume and their arrangement closely resemble the sonnet-collections of petrarch or the 'amours' of ronsard. there are a hundred and five sonnets altogether, interspersed with twenty-six madrigals, five sestines, twenty-one elegies, three 'canzons,' and twenty 'odes,' one in sonnet form. there is, moreover, included what purports to be a translation of 'moschus' first eidillion describing love,' but is clearly a rendering of a french poem by amadis jamin, entitled 'amour fuitif, du grec de moschus,' in his 'oeuvres poetiques,' paris, . { b} at the end of barnes's volume there also figure six dedicatory sonnets. in sonnet xcv. barnes pays a compliment to sir philip sidney, 'the arcadian shepherd, astrophel,' but he did not draw so largely on sidney's work as on that of ronsard, desportes, de baif, and du bellay. legal metaphors abound in barnes's poems, but amid many crudities, he reaches a high level of beauty in sonnet lxvi., which runs: ah, sweet content! where is thy mild abode? is it with shepherds, and light-hearted swains, which sing upon the downs, and pipe abroad, tending their flocks and cattle on the plains? ah, sweet content! where dost thou safely rest in heaven, with angels? which the praises sing of him that made, and rules at his behest, the minds and hearts of every living thing. ah, sweet content! where doth thine harbour hold? is it in churches, with religious men, which please the gods with prayers manifold; and in their studies meditate it then? whether thou dost in heaven, or earth appear; be where thou wilt! thou wilt not harbour here! { a} watson's 'tears of fancie,' . in august there appeared a posthumous collection of sixty-one sonnets by thomas watson, entitled 'the tears of fancie, or love disdained.' they are throughout the imitative type of his previously published 'centurie of love.' many of them sound the same note as shakespeare's sonnets to the 'dark lady.' fletcher's 'licia,' . in september followed giles fletcher's 'licia, or poems of love in honour of the admirable and singular virtues of his lady.' this collection of fifty-three sonnets is dedicated to the wife of sir richard mollineux. fletcher makes no concealment that his sonnets are literary exercises. 'for this kind of poetry,' he tells the reader, 'i did it to try my humour;' and on the title-page he notes that the work was written 'to the imitation of the best latin poets and others.' { b} lodge's 'phillis,' . the most notable contribution to the sonnet-literature of was thomas lodge's 'phillis honoured with pastoral sonnets, elegies, and amorous delights.' { c} besides forty sonnets, some of which exceed fourteen lines in length and others are shorter, there are included three elegies and an ode. desportes is lodge's chief master, but he had recourse to ronsard and other french contemporaries. how servile he could be may be learnt from a comparison of his sonnet xxxvi. with desportes's sonnet from 'les amours de diane,' livre ii. sonnet iii. thomas lodge's sonnet xxxvi. runs thus: if so i seek the shades, i presently do see the god of love forsake his bow and sit me by; if that i think to write, his muses pliant be; if so i plain my grief, the wanton boy will cry. if i lament his pride, he doth increase my pain if tears my cheeks attaint, his cheeks are moist with moan if i disclose the wounds the which my heart hath slain, he takes his fascia off, and wipes them dry anon. if so i walk the woods, the woods are his delight; if i myself torment, he bathes him in my blood; he will my soldier be if once i wend to fight, if seas delight, he steers my bark amidst the flood. in brief, the cruel god doth never from me go, but makes my lasting love eternal with my woe. desportes wrote in 'les amours de diane,' book ii. sonnet iii.: si ie me sies l'ombre, aussi soudainement amour, laissant son arc, s'assiet et se repose: si ie pense a des vers, ie le voy qu'il compose: si ie plains mes douleurs, il se plaint hautement. si ie me plains du mal, il accroist mon tourment: si ie respan des pleurs, son visage il arrose: si ie monstre la playe en ma poitrine enclose, il defait son bandeau l'essuyant doucement. si ie vay par les bois, aux bois il m'accompagne: si ie me suis cruel, dans mon sang il se bagne: si ie vais a la guerre, it deuient mon soldart: si ie passe la mer, il conduit ma nacelle: bref, iamais l'inhumain de moy ne se depart, pour rendre mon amour et ma peine eternelle. drayton's 'idea', . three new volumes in , together with the reissue of daniel's 'delia' and of constable's 'diana' (in a piratical miscellany of sonnets from many pens), prove the steady growth of the sonnetteering vogue. michael drayton in june produced his 'ideas mirrour, amours in quatorzains,' containing fifty-one 'amours' and a sonnet addressed to 'his ever kind mecaenas, anthony cooke.' drayton acknowledged his devotion to 'divine sir philip,' but by his choice of title, style, and phraseology, the english sonnetteer once more betrayed his indebtedness to desportes and his compeers. 'l'idee' was the name of a collection of sonnets by claude de pontoux in . many additions were made by drayton to the sonnets that he published in , and many were subtracted before , when there appeared the last edition that was prepared in drayton's lifetime. a comparison of the various editions ( , , , and ) shows that drayton published a hundred sonnets, but the majority were apparently circulated by him in early life. { a} percy's 'coelia,' . william percy, the 'dearest friend' of barnabe barnes, published in , in emulation of barnes, a collection of twenty 'sonnets to the fairest coelia.' { b} he explains, in an address to the reader, that out of courtesy he had lent the sonnets to friends, who had secretly committed them to the press. making a virtue of necessity, he had accepted the situation, but begged the reader to treat them as 'toys and amorous devices.' zepheria, . a collection of forty sonnets or 'canzons,' as the anonymous author calls them, also appeared in with the title 'zepheria.' { c} in some prefatory verses addressed 'alli veri figlioli delle muse' laudatory reference was made to the sonnets of petrarch, daniel, and sidney. several of the sonnets labour at conceits drawn from the technicalities of the law, and sir john davies parodied these efforts in the eighth of his 'gulling sonnets' beginning, 'my case is this, i love zepheria bright.' barnfield's sonnets to ganymede, . four interesting ventures belong to . in january, appended to richard barnfield's poem of 'cynthia,' a panegyric on queen elizabeth, was a series of twenty sonnets extolling the personal charms of a young man in emulation of virgil's eclogue ii., in which the shepherd corydon addressed the shepherd-boy alexis. { d} in sonnet xx. the author expressed regret that the task of celebrating his young friend's praises had not fallen to the more capable hand of spenser ('great colin, chief of shepherds all') or drayton ('gentle rowland, my professed friend'). barnfield at times imitated shakespeare. spenser's 'amoretti', . almost at the same date as barnfield's 'cynthia' made its appearance there was published the more notable collection by edmund spenser of eighty-eight sonnets, which in reference to their italian origin he entitled 'amoretti.' { e} spenser had already translated many sonnets on philosophic topics of petrarch and joachim du bellay. some of the 'amoretti' were doubtless addressed by spenser in to the lady who became his wife a year later. but the sentiment was largely ideal, and, as he says in sonnet lxxxvii., he wrote, like drayton, with his eyes fixed on 'idaea.' 'emaricdulfe,' . an unidentified 'e.c., esq.,' produced also in , under the title of 'emaricdulfe,' { a} a collection of forty sonnets, echoing english and french models. in the dedication to his 'two very good friends, john zouch and edward fitton esquiers,' the author tells them that an ague confined him to his chamber, 'and to abandon idleness he completed an idle work that he had already begun at the command and service of a fair dame.' sir john davies's 'gullinge sonnets,' . to may best be referred the series of nine 'gullinge sonnets,' or parodies, which sir john davies wrote and circulated in manuscript, in order to put to shame what he regarded as 'the bastard sonnets' in vogue. he addressed his collection to sir anthony cooke, whom drayton had already celebrated as the mecaenas of his sonnetteering efforts. { b} davies seems to have aimed at shakespeare as well as at insignificant rhymers like the author of 'zepheria.' { c} no. viii. of davies's 'gullinge sonnets,' which ridicules the legal metaphors of the sonnetteers, may be easily matched in the collections of barnabe barnes or of the author of 'zepheria,' but davies's phraseology suggests that he also was glancing at shakespeare's legal sonnets lxxxvii. and cxxxiv. davies's sonnet runs: my case is this. i love zepheria bright, of her i hold my heart by fealty: which i discharge to her perpetually, yet she thereof will never me acquit[e]. for, now supposing i withhold her right, she hath distrained my heart to satisfy the duty which i never did deny, and far away impounds it with despite. i labour therefore justly to repleave [_i.e._ recover] my heart which she unjustly doth impound. but quick conceit which now is love's high shreive returns it as esloyned [_i.e._ absconded], not to be found. then what the law affords i only crave, her heart for mine, in wit her name to have (_sic_). linche's 'diella,' . 'r. l., gentleman,' probably richard linche, published in thirty-nine sonnets under the title 'diella.' { a} the effort is thoroughly conventional. in an obsequious address by the publisher, henry olney, to anne, wife of sir henry glenham, linche's sonnets are described as 'passionate' and as 'conceived in the brain of a gallant gentleman.' griffin's 'fidessa,' . thomas campion, . to the same year belongs bartholomew griffin's 'fidessa,' sixty-two sonnets inscribed to 'william essex, esq.' griffin designates his sonnets as 'the first fruits of a young beginner.' he is a shameless plagiarist. daniel is his chief model, but he also imitated sidney, watson, constable, and drayton. sonnet iii., beginning 'venus and young adonis sitting by her,' is almost identical with the fourth poem--a sonnet beginning 'sweet cytheraea, sitting by a brook'--in jaggard's piratical miscellany, 'the passionate pilgrim,' which bore shakespeare's name on the title-page. { b} jaggard doubtless stole the poem from griffin, although it may be in its essentials the property of some other poet. three beautiful love-sonnets by thomas campion, which are found in the harleian ms. , are there dated . { c} william smith's 'chloris,' . william smith was the author of 'chloris,' a third collection of sonnets appearing in . { d} the volume contains forty-eight sonnets of love of the ordinary type, with three adulating spenser; of these, two open the volume and one concludes it. smith says that his sonnets were 'the budding springs of his study.' in a license was issued by the stationers' company for the issue of 'amours' by w. s. this no doubt refers to a second collection of sonnets by william smith. the projected volume is not extant. { a} robert tofte's 'laura,' . in there came out a similar volume by robert tofte, entitled 'laura, the joys of a traveller, or the feast of fancy.' the book is divided into three parts, each consisting of forty 'sonnets' in irregular metres. there is a prose dedication to lucy, sister of henry, ninth earl of northumberland. tofte tells his patroness that most of his 'toys' 'were conceived in italy.' as its name implies, his work is a pale reflection of petrarch. a postscript by a friend--'r. b.'--complains that a publisher had intermingled with tofte's genuine efforts 'more than thirty sonnets not his.' but the style is throughout so uniformly tame that it is not possible to distinguish the work of a second hand. sir william alexander's 'aurora.' to the same era belongs sir william alexander's 'aurora,' a collection of a hundred and six sonnets, with a few songs and elegies interspersed on french patterns. sir william describes the work as 'the first fancies of his youth,' and formally inscribes it to agnes, countess of argyle. it was not published till . { b} sir fulke greville's 'caelica.' sir fulke greville, afterwards lord brooke, the intimate friend of sir philip sidney, was author of a like collection of sonnets called 'caelica.' the poems number a hundred and nine, but few are in strict sonnet metre. only a small proportion profess to be addressed to the poet's fictitious mistress, caelica. many celebrate the charms of another beauty named myra, and others invoke queen elizabeth under her poetic name of cynthia (cf. sonnet xvii.) there are also many addresses to cupid and meditations on more or less metaphysical themes, but the tone is never very serious. greville doubtless wrote the majority of his 'sonnets' during the period under survey, though they were not published until their author's works appeared in folio for the first time in , five years after his death. estimate of number of love-sonnets issued between and . with tofte's volume in the publication of collections of love-sonnets practically ceased. only two collections on a voluminous scale seem to have been written in the early years of the seventeenth century. about william drummond of hawthornden penned a series of sixty-eight interspersed with songs, madrigals, and sextains, nearly all of which were translated or adapted from modern italian sonnetteers. { a} about john davies of hereford published his 'wittes pilgrimage . . . through a world of amorous sonnets.' of more than two hundred separate poems in this volume, only the hundred and four sonnets in the opening section make any claim to answer the description on the title-page, and the majority of those are metaphysical meditations on love which are not addressed to any definite person. some years later william browne penned a sequence of fourteen love-sonnets entitled 'caelia' and a few detached sonnets of the same type. { b} the dates of production of drummond's, davies's, and browne's sonnets exclude them from the present field of view. omitting them, we find that between and there had been printed nearly twelve hundred sonnets of the amorous kind. if to these we add shakespeare's poems, and make allowance for others which, only circulating in manuscript, have not reached us, it is seen that more than two hundred love-sonnets were produced in each of the six years under survey. france and italy directed their literary energies in like direction during nearly the whole of the century, but at no other period and in no other country did the love-sonnet dominate literature to a greater extent than in england between and . of sonnets to patrons between and , of which detached specimens may be found in nearly every published book of the period, the chief collections were: ii. sonnets to patrons, - . a long series of sonnets prefixed to 'poetical exercises of a vacant hour' by king james vi of scotland, ; twenty-three sonnets in gabriel harvey's 'four letters and certain sonnets touching robert greene' ( ), including edmund spenser's fine sonnet of compliment addressed to harvey; a series of sonnets to noble patronesses by constable circulated in manuscript about (first printed in 'harleian miscellany,' , ix. ); six adulatory sonnets appended by barnabe barnes to his 'parthenophil' in may ; four sonnets to 'sir philip sidney's soul,' prefixed to the first edition of sidney's 'apologie for poetrie' ( ); seventeen sonnets which were originally prefixed to the first edition of spenser's 'faerie queene,' bk. i.-iii., in , and were reprinted in the edition of ; { } sixty sonnets to peers, peeresses, and officers of state, appended to henry locke's (or lok's) 'ecclesiasticus' ( ); forty sonnets by joshua sylvester addressed to henry iv of france 'upon the late miraculous peace in fraunce' ( ); sir john davies's series of twenty-six octosyllabic sonnets, which he entitled 'hymnes of astraea,' all extravagantly eulogising queen elizabeth ( ). iii. sonnets on philosophy and religion. the collected sonnets on religion and philosophy that appeared in the period - include sixteen 'spirituall sonnettes to the honour of god and hys saynts,' written by constable about , and circulated only in manuscript; these were first printed from a manuscript in the harleian collection ( ) by thomas park in 'heliconia,' , vol. ii. in barnabe barnes published a 'divine centurie of spirituall sonnets,' and, in dedicating the collection to toby matthew, bishop of durham, mentions that they were written a year before, while travelling in france. they are closely modelled on the two series of 'sonnets spirituels' which the abbe jacques de billy published in paris in and respectively. a long series of 'sonnets spirituels' written by anne de marquets, a sister of the dominican order, who died at poissy in , was first published in paris in . in george chapman published ten sonnets in praise of philosophy, which he entitled 'a coronet for his mistress philosophy.' in the opening poem he states that his aim was to dissuade poets from singing in sonnets 'love's sensual empery.' in henry locke (or lok) appended to his verse-rendering of ecclesiastes { a} a collection of 'sundrie sonets of christian passions, with other affectionate sonets of a feeling conscience.' lok had in obtained a license to publish 'a hundred sonnets on meditation, humiliation, and prayer,' but that work is not extant. in the volume of his sonnets on religious or philosophical themes number no fewer than three hundred and twenty-eight. { b} thus in the total of sonnets published between and must be included at least five hundred sonnets addressed to patrons, and as many on philosophy and religion. the aggregate far exceeds two thousand. x.--bibliographical note on the sonnet in france, - . ronsard ( - ) and 'la pleiade.' desportes ( - ). in the earlier years of the sixteenth century melin de saint-gelais ( - ) and clement marot ( - ) made a few scattered efforts at sonnetteering in france; and maurice seve laid down the lines of all sonnet-sequences on themes of love in his dixains entitled 'delie' ( ). but it was ronsard ( - ), in the second half of the century, who first gave the sonnet a pronounced vogue in france. the sonnet was handled with the utmost assiduity not only by ronsard, but by all the literary comrades whom he gathered round him, and on whom he bestowed the title of 'la pleiade.' the leading aim that united ronsard and his friends was the re-formation of the french language and literature on classical models. but they assimilated and naturalised in france not only much that was admirable in latin and greek poetry, { a} but all that was best in the recent italian literature. { b} although they were learned poets, ronsard and the majority of his associates had a natural lyric vein, which gave their poetry the charms of freshness and spontaneity. the true members of 'la pleiade,' according to ronsard's own statement, were, besides himself, joachim du bellay ( - ); estienne jodelle ( - ); remy belleau ( - ); jean dinemandy, usually known as daurat or dorat ( - ), ronsard's classical teacher in early life; jean-antoine de baif ( - ); and ponthus de thyard ( - ). others of ronsard's literary allies are often loosely reckoned among the 'pleiade.' these writers include jean de la peruse ( - ), olivier de magny ( - ), amadis jamyn ( ?- ), jean passerat ( - ), philippe desportes ( - ), estienne pasquier ( - ), scevole de sainte-marthe ( - ), and jean bertaut ( - ). these subordinate members of the 'pleiade' were no less devoted to sonnetteering than the original members. of those in this second rank, desportes was most popular in france as well as in england. although many of desportes's sonnets are graceful in thought and melodious in rhythm, most of them abound in overstrained conceits. not only was desportes a more slavish imitator of petrarch than the members of the 'pleiade,' but he encouraged numerous disciples to practise 'petrarchism,' as the imitation of petrarch was called, beyond healthful limits. under the influence of desportes the french sonnet became, during the latest years of the sixteenth century, little more than an empty and fantastic echo of the italian. chief collections of french sonnets published between and . the following statistics will enable the reader to realise how closely the sonnetteering movement in france adumbrated that in england. the collective edition in of the works of ronsard, the master of the 'pleiade,' contains more than nine hundred separate sonnets arranged under such titles as 'amours de cassandre,' 'amours de marie,' 'amours pour astree,' 'amours pour helene;' besides 'amours divers' and 'sonnets divers,' complimentary addresses to friends and patrons. du bellay's 'olive,' a collection of love sonnets, first published in , reached a total of a hundred and fifteen. 'les regrets,' du bellay's sonnets on general topics, some of which edmund spenser first translated into english, numbered in the edition of a hundred and eighty-three. de baif published two long series of sonnets, entitled respectively 'les amours de meline' ( ) and 'les amours de francine' ( ). amadis jamyn was responsible for 'les amours d'oriane,' 'les amours de calliree,' and 'les amours d'artemis' ( ). desportes's 'premieres oeuvres' ( ), a very popular book in england, included more than three hundred sonnets--a hundred and fifty being addressed to diane, eighty-six to hippolyte, and ninety-one to cleonice. ponthus de thyard produced between and three series of his 'erreurs amoureuses,' sonnets addressed to pasithee, and belleau brought out a volume of 'amours' in . minor collections of french sonnets published between and . among other collections of sonnets published by less known writers of the period, and arranged here according to date of first publication, were those of guillaume des autels, 'amoureux repos' ( ); olivier de magny, 'amours, soupirs,' &c. ( , ); louise labe, 'oeuvres' ( ); jacques tahureau, 'odes, sonnets,' &c. ( , ); claude de billet, 'amalthee,' a hundred and twenty-eight love sonnets ( ); vauquelin de la fresnaye, 'foresteries' ( et annis seq.); jacques grevin, 'olympe' ( ); nicolas ellain, 'sonnets' ( ); scevole de sainte-marthe, 'oeuvres francaises' ( , ); estienne de la boetie, 'oeuvres' ( ), and twenty-nine sonnets published with montaigne's 'essais' ( ); jean et jacques de la taille, 'oeuvres' ( ); jacques de billy, 'sonnets spirituels' (first series , second series ); estienne jodelle 'oeuvres poetiques' ( ); claude de pontoux, 'sonnets de l'idee' ( ); les dames des roches, 'oeuvres' ( , ); pierre de brach, 'amours d'aymee' (_circa_ ); gilles durant, 'poesies'--sonnets to charlotte and camille ( , ); jean passerat, 'vers . . . d'amours' ( ); and anne de marquet, who died in , 'sonnets spirituels' ( ). { } index. a abbey, mr. e. a., abbott, dr. e. a., actor, shakespeare as an, - _see also_ roles, shakespeare's actors: entertained for the first time at stratford-on-avon, return of the two chief companies to london in , the players' licensing act of queen elizabeth, companies of boy actors, companies of adult actors in , the patronage of the company which was joined by shakespeare, women's parts played by men or boys, and _n_ tours in the provinces, - foreign tours, shakespeare's alleged scorn of their calling, 'advice' to actors in _hamlet_, their incomes, and _n_ , the strife between adult actors and boy actors, - patronage of actors by king james, and _n_ substitution of women for boys in female parts, adam, in _as you like it_, played by shakespeare, adaptations by shakespeare of old plays, adaptations of shakespeare's plays at the restoration, adulation, extravagance of, in the days of queen elizabeth, and _n_ aeschylus, hamlet's 'sea of troubles' paralleled in the _persae_ of, _n_ resemblance between lady macbeth and clytemnestra in the _agamemnon_ of, _n_ aesthetic school of shakespearean criticism, alexander, sir william, sonnets by, alleyn, edward, manages the amalgamated companies of the admiral and lord strange, pays fivepence for the pirated sonnets, _n_ his large savings, allot, robert, _all's well that ends well_: the sonnet form of a letter of helen, probable date of production, plot drawn from painter's 'palace of pleasure,' probably identical with _love's labour's won_, chief characters, its resemblance to the _two gentlemen of verona_, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - america, enthusiasm for shakespeare in, copies of the first folio in, _n_ amner, rev. richard, 'amoretti,' spenser's, and _n_ , 'amours' by 'j. d.,' and _n_ _amphitruo_ of plautus, the, and a scene in _the comedy of errors_, 'amyntas,' complimentary title of, _n_ angelo, michael, 'dedicatory' sonnets of, _n_ 'anthia and abrocomas,' by xenophon ephesius, and the story of romeo and juliet, _n_ _antony and cleopatra_: allusion to the part of cleopatra being played by a boy, _n_ the youthfulness of octavius caesar, _n_ the longest of the poet's plays, date of entry in the 'stationers' registers,' date of publication, the story derived from plutarch, the 'happy valiancy' of the style, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _apollonius and silla_, _historie of_, 'apologie for poetrie,' sidney's, allusion to the conceit of the immortalising power of verse in, on the adulation of patrons, 'apology for actors,' heywood's, apsley, william, bookseller, 'arcadia,' sidney's, _n_, and _n_ , arden family, of warwickshire, arden family, of alvanley, arden, alice, arden, edward, executed for complicity in a popish plot, arden, joan, arden, mary. see shakespeare, mary arden, robert ( ), sheriff of warwickshire and leicestershire in , arden, robert ( ), landlord at snitterfield of richard shakespeare, marriage of his daughter mary to john shakespeare, his family and second marriage, his property and will, arden, thomas, grandfather of shakespeare's mother, _arden of feversham_, a play of uncertain authorship, ariel, character of, _ariodante and ginevra_, _historie of_, ariosto, _i suppositi_ of, _orlando furioso_ of, and _much ado about nothing_, aristotle, quotation from, made by both shakespeare and bacon _n_ armado, in _love's labour's lost_ _n_, armenian language, translation of shakespeare in the, arms, coat of, shakespeare's, arms, college of, applications of the poet's father to, _n_, - arne, dr., arnold, matthew, _n_ art in england, its indebtedness to shakespeare, _as you like it_: allusion to the part of rosalind being played by a boy, _n_ ridicule of foreign travel, _n_ acknowledgments to marlowe (iii. v. ), adapted from lodge's 'rosalynde,' addition of three new characters, hints taken from 'saviolo's practise,' its pastoral character, said to have been performed before king james at wilton, _n_ _n_. _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - asbies, the chief property of robert arden at wilmcote, bequeathed to shakespeare's mother, mortgaged to edmund lambert, proposal to confer on john lambert an absolute title to the property, shakespeare's endeavour to recover, ashbee, mr. e. w., _n_ assimilation, literary, shakespeare's power of, _seq._ aston cantlowe, place of the marriage of shakespeare's parents, 'astrophel,' apostrophe to sidney in spenser's, _n_ 'astrophel and stella,' the metre of, _n_ address to cupid, _n_ the praise of 'blackness' in, and _n_ _n_ editions of, aubrey, john, the poet's early biographer, on john shakespeare's trade, on the poet's knowledge of latin, on john shakespeare's relations with the trade of butcher, on the poet at grendon, lines quoted by him on john combe, _n_ on shakespeare's genial disposition, value of his biography of the poet, his ignorance of any relation between shakespeare and the earl of pembroke, 'aurora,' title of sir w. alexander's collection of sonnets, autobiographical features of shakespeare's plays, - of shakespeare's sonnets, the question of, autographs of the poet, - 'avisa,' heroine of willobie's poem, _seq_ ayrer, jacob, his _die schone sidea_, and _n_ ayscough, samuel, _n_ b bacon, miss delia, bacon society, bacon-shakespeare controversy, (appendix ii.), - baddesley clinton, the shakespeares of, baif, de, plagiarised indirectly by shakespeare, and _n_ indebtedness of daniel and others to, one of 'la pleiade,' bandello, the story of romeo and juliet by, _n_ the story of hero and claudio by, the story of twelfth night by, barante, recognition of the greatness of shakespeare by, barnard, sir john, second husband of the poet's granddaughter elizabeth, barnes, barnabe, legal terminology in his sonnets, _n_ and (appendix ix.) use of the word 'wire,' _n_ his sonnets of vituperation, the probable rival of shakespeare for southampton's favour, _n_ his sonnets, called 'petrarch's scholar' by churchyard, expressions in his sonnet (xlix.) adopted by shakespeare, _n_ sonnet to lady bridget manners, _n_ sonnet to southampton's eyes, compliment to sidney in sonnet xcv. sonnet lxvi. ('ah, sweet content') _quoted_, his sonnets to patrons, his religious sonnets, barnfield, richard, feigning old age in his 'affectionate shepherd,' _n_ his adulation of queen elizabeth in 'cynthia,' _n_, sonnets addressed to 'ganymede,' _n_ , predicts immortality for shakespeare, chief author of the 'passionate pilgrim,' and _n_ _bartholomew fair_, bartlett, john, barton collection of shakespeareana at boston, mass., barton-on-the-heath, identical with the 'burton' in the _taming of the shrew_, bathurst, charles, on shakespeare's versification, _n_ baynes, thomas spencer, beale, francis, 'bear garden in southwark, the,' the poet's lodgings near, bearley, beaumont, francis, on 'things done at the mermaid,' beaumont, sir john, bedford, edward russell, third earl of: his marriage to lucy harington, bedford, lucy, countess of, _n_ , beeston, william (a seventeenth-century actor), on the report that shakespeare was a schoolmaster, on the poet's acting, bellay, joachim du, spenser's translations of some of his sonnets, _n_, belleau, remy, poems and sonnets by, _n_ , _n_ belleforest (francois de), shakespeare's indebtedness to the 'histoires tragiques' of, _n_ , benda, j. w. ., german translation of shakespeare by, benedick and his 'halting sonnet,' benedix, j. r., opposition to shakespearean worship by, bentley, r., berlioz, hector, bermudas, the, and _the tempest_, berners, lord, translation of 'huon of bordeaux' by, bernhardt, madame sarah, bertaut, jean, betterton, mrs., betterton, thomas, bianca and her lovers, story of, partly drawn from the 'supposes' of george gascoigne, bible, the, shakespeare and, and _n_ bibliography of shakespeare, - bensley, robert, actor, bidford, near stratford, legend of a drinking bout at, biography of the poet, sources of (appendix i.), - birmingham, memorial shakespeare library at, biron, in _love's labour's lost_, and _n_ _birth of merlin_, birthplace, shakespeare's, 'bisson,' use of the word, blackfriars shakespeare's purchase of property in, blackfriars theatre, built by james burbage ( ), leased to 'the queen's children of the chapel,' occupied by shakespeare's company, litigation of burbage's heirs, shakespeare's interest in, shareholders in, shakespeare's disposal of his shares in, 'blackness,' shakespeare's praise of, - cf. blades, william, _blind beggar of alexandria_, chapman's, _n_ blount, edward, publisher, _n_, and _n_ boaistuau de launay (pierre) translates bandello's story of _romeo and juliet_, _n_ boaden, james, _n_ boar's head tavern, boas, mr. f. s., boccaccio, shakespeare's indebtedness to, and _n_ bodenstedt, friedrich von, german translator of shakespeare, bohemia, allotted a seashore in _winter's tale_, translations of shakespeare in, boiardo, bond against impediments respecting shakespeare's marriage, bonian, richard, printer, booth, barton, actor, booth, edwin, booth, junius brutus, booth, lionel, borck, baron c. w. von, translation of _julius caesar_ into german by, boswell, james, boswell, james (the younger), _n_ boswell-stone, mr. w. g. bottger, a., german translation of shakespeare by, boy-actors, the strife between adult actors and, - boydell, john, his scheme for illustrating the work of the poet, bracebridge, c. h., brach, pierre de, his sonnet on sleep echoed in daniel's sonnet xlix., and _n_ _n_ brandes, mr. georg, brassington, mr. w. salt, _n_ brathwaite, richard, _n_ , breton, nicholas, homage paid to the countess of pembroke in his poems, _n_ his play on the words 'wit' and 'will,' brewster, e., bridgeman, mr. c. ., _n_ bright, james heywood, _n_ _broken heart_, ford's, similarity of theme of shakespeare's sonnet cxxvi. to that of a song in, _n_ brooke or broke, arthur, his translation of the story of romeo and juliet, brooke, ralph, complains about shakespeare's coat-of-arms, brown, c. armitage, _n_ brown, john, obtains a writ of distraint against shakespeare's father, browne, william, love-sonnets by, and _n_ buc, sir george, buckingham, john sheffield, first duke of, a letter from king james to the poet said to have been in his possession, bucknill, dr. john charles, on the poet's medical knowledge, burbage, cuthbert, burbage, james, owner of the theatre and keeper of a livery stable, erects the blackfriars theatre, burbage, richard, erroneously assumed to have been a native of stratford, _n_ a lifelong friend of shakespeare's, demolishes the theatre and builds the globe theatre, performs, with shakespeare and kemp, before queen elizabeth at greenwich palace, his impersonation of the king in _richard iii_, litigation of his heirs respecting the globe and the blackfriars theatres, his income, creates the title-part in hamlet, his reputation made by creating the leading parts in the poet's greatest tragedies, anecdote of, the poet's bequest to, as a painter, burgersdijk, dr. l. a. j., translation in dutch by, burghley, lord, burton, francis, bookseller, _n_ , butter, nathaniel, c 'c., e.,' sonnet by, on lust, _n_ his collection of sonnets, 'emaricdulfe,' caliban, the character of, and _notes_ cambridge, _hamlet_ acted at, cambridge edition of shakespeare, camden, william, campbell, lord, on the poet's legal acquirements, campion, thomas, his opinion of barnes's verse, his sonnet to lord walden, sonnets in harleian ms., and _n_ capell, edward, reprint of _edward iii_ in his 'prolusions,' his edition of shakespeare, his works on the poet, _cardenio_, the lost play of, carter, rev. thomas, on the alleged puritan sympathies of shakespeare's father, _n_ _casteliones y montisis_, lope de vega's, _n_ castille, constable of, entertainments in his honour at whitehall, castle, william, parish clerk of stratford, catherine ii of russia, adaptations of the _merry wives_ and _king john_ by, cawood, gabriel, publisher of 'mary magdalene's funeral tears,' _n_ cecil, sir robert, and the earl of southampton, 'centurie of spiritual sonnets, a,' barnes's, 'certain sonnets,' sidney's, _n_ cervantes, his 'don quixote,' foundation of lost play of _cardenio_, death of, _n_ chamberlain, the lord, his company of players. _see_ hunsdon, first lord and second lord chamberlain, john, _n_ chapman, george, plays on biron's career by, _n_, _n_ his _an humourous day's mirth_, _n_ his _blind beggar of alexandria_, _n_ his censure of sonnetteermg, his alleged rivalry with shakespeare for southampton's favour, _n_, his translation of the 'iliad,' his sonnets to patrons, _n_ sonnets in praise of philosophy, charlecote park, probably the scene of the poaching episode, charles i and the poet's plays, his copy of the second folio, charles ii, his copy of the second folio, chateaubriand, chatelain, chevalier de, rendering of _hamlet_ by, chaucer, the story of 'lucrece' in his 'legend of good women,' hints in his 'knight's tale' for _midsummer night's dream_, the plot of _troilus and cressida_ taken from his 'troilus and cresseid,' plot of _the two noble kinsmen_ drawn from his 'knight's tale,' chenier, marie-joseph, sides with voltaire in the shakespearean controversy in france, chester, robert, his 'love's martyr,' _n_ chettle, henry, the publisher, his description of shakespeare as an actor, _n_ his apology for greene's attack on shakespeare, appeals to shakespeare to write an elegy on queen elizabeth, chetwynde, peter, publisher, chiswell, r., 'chloris,' title of william smith's collection of sonnets, and _n_ chronology of shakespeare's plays - - partly determined by subject-matter and metre, - _seq._, _seq._, _seq._, _seq._ churchyard, thomas, his _fantasticall monarcho's epitaph_, _n_ calls barnes 'petrarch's scholar,' cibber, colley, cibber, mrs., cibber, theophilus, the reputed compiler of 'lives of the poets,' and _n_ , cinthio, the 'hecatommithi' of, shakespeare's indebtedness to, his tragedy, _epitia_, clark, mr. w. g., clement, nicolas, criticism of the poet by, cleopatra: the poet's allusion to her part being played by a boy, _n_ compared with the 'dark lady' of the sonnets her character, clive, mrs., clopton, sir hugh, the former owner of new place, clopton, sir john, clytemnestra, resemblance between the characters of lady macbeth and, _n_ cobham, henry brooke, eighth lord, 'coelia,' love-sonnets by william browne entitled, and _n_ 'coelia,' title of percy's collection of sonnets, 'coelica,' title of fulke greville's collection of poems, _n_ cokain, sir aston, lines on shakespeare and wincot ale by, coleridge, s. t., on the style of _antony and cleopatra_, on _the two noble kinsmen_, representative of the aesthetic school, on edmund kean, collier, john payne, includes _mucedorus_ in his edition of shakespeare, his reprint of drayton's sonnets, _n_ his forgeries in the 'perkins folio,' and _n_ , _n_ his other forgeries (appendix i.), - collins, mr. churton, _n_ collins, francis, shakespeare's solicitor, collins, rev. john, colte, sir henry, _n_ combe, john, bequest left to the poet by, lines written upon his money-lending, _n_ combe, thomas, legacy of the poet to, combe, william, his attempt to enclose common land at stratford, _comedy of errors_: the plot drawn from plautus, date of publication, allusion to the civil war in france, possibly founded on _the historie of error_, performed in the hall of gray's inn , _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - 'complainte of rosamond,' daniel's, parallelisms in _romeo and juliet_ with, its topic and metre reflected in 'lucrece,' and _n_ concordances to shakespeare, and _n_ condell, henry, actor and a lifelong friend of shakespeare, the poet's bequest to him, signs dedication of first folio, _confessio amantis_, gower's, _conspiracie of duke biron_, _the_, _n_ constable, henry, piratical publication of the sonnets of, _n_ followed desportes in naming his collection of sonnets 'diana,' dedicatory sonnets, religious sonnets, _contention betwixt the two famous houses of yorke and lancaster_, _first part of the_, 'contr amours,' jodelle's, parody of the vituperative sonnet in, and _n_ cooke, sir anthony, cooke, george frederick, actor, coral, comparison of lips with, and _n_ _coriolanus_: date of first publication, derived from north's 'plutarch,' literal reproduction of the text of plutarch, and _n_ originality of the humorous scenes, date of composition, general characteristics, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - 'coronet for his mistress philosophy, a,' by chapman, coryat, 'odcombian banquet' by, cotes, thomas, printer, cotswolds, the, shakespeare's allusion to, court, the, shakespeare's relations with, - cf. _n_, _n_, _n_ , cowden-clarke, mrs., cowley, actor, 'crabbed age and youth,' etc. craig, mr. w. j., creede, thomas, draft of the _merry wives of windsor_ printed by, draft of _henry v_ printed by, fraudulently assigns plays to shakespeare, cromwell, history of thomas, lord, 'cryptogram, the great,' cupid, shakespeare's addresses to, compared with the invocations of sidney, drayton, lyly, and others, _n_ curtain theatre, moorfields, one of the only two theatres existing in london at the period of shakespeare's arrival, the scene of some of the poet's performances, closed at the period of the civil war, _n_ cushman, charlotte, cust, mr. lionel, _n_ _cymbeline_: sources of plot, introduction of calvinistic terms, and _n_ imogen, comparison with _as you like it_, dr. forman's note on its performance, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography) - 'cynthia,' barnfield's, adulation of queen elizabeth in, _n_, 'cynthia,' ralegh's, extravagant apostrophe to queen elizabeth in, _n_ _cynthia's revels_, performed at blackfriars theatre, cyrano de bergerac, plagiarisms of shakespeare by, d 'daiphantus,' allusion to the poet in scoloker's, daniel, samuel, parallelisms in _romeo and juliet_ with his 'complainte of rosamond,' the topic and metre of the 'complainte of rosamond' reflected in 'lucrece,' and _n_ feigning old age, _n_ his sonnet (xlix.) on sleep, admits plagiarism of petrarch in his 'delia,' _n_ followed maurice seve in naming his collection of sonnets, claims immortality for his sonnets, his prefatory sonnet in 'delia,' celebrates in verse southampton's release from prison, his indebtedness to desportes, and to de balt and pierre de brach, popularity of his sonnets, danish, translations of shakespeare in, danter, john, prints surreptitiously _romeo and juliet_, _titus andronicus_ entered at stationers' hall by, daurat (formerly dinemandy), jean, one of 'la pleiade,' d'avenant, john, keeps the crown inn, oxford, d'avenant, sir william, relates the story of shakespeare holding horses outside playhouses, on the story of southampton's gift to shakespeare, a letter of king james to the poet once in his possession, shakespeare's alleged paternity of, davies, archdeacon, vicar of saperton, on shakespeare's 'unluckiness' in poaching, on 'justice clodpate' (justice shallow), davies, john, of hereford, his allusion to the parts played by shakespeare, celebrates in verse southampton's release from prison, his 'wittes pilgrimage,' sonnets to patrons, _n_ davies, sir john: his 'gulling sonnets,' a satire on conventional sonnetteering, and _n_ _n_, his apostrophe to queen elizabeth, _n_ davison, francis, his translation of petrarch's sonnet, _n_ dedication of his 'poetical rhapsody' to the earl of pembroke, death-mask, the kesselstadt, and _n_ 'decameron,' the, indebtedness of shakespeare to, and n dedications, - 'dedicatory' sonnets, of shakespeare, _seq._ of other elizabethan poets, _n_ _defence of cony-catching_, _n_ dekker, thomas, _n_ the quarrel with ben jonson, - _n_ on king james's entry into london, his song 'oh, sweet content' an echo of barnes's 'ah, sweet content,' _n_ 'delia,' title of daniel's collection of sonnets, _n_ , _see also under_ daniel, samuel 'delie,' sonnets by seve entitled, delius, nikolaus, edition of shakespeare by, studies of the text and metre of the poet by, dennis, john, on the _merry wives of windsor_, his tribute to the poet, derby, ferdinando stanley, earl of, his patronage of actors, performances by his company, spenser's bestowal of the title of 'amyntas' on, _n_ derby, william stanley, earl of, desmond, earl of, ben jonson's apostrophe to the, desportes, philippe, his sonnet on sleep, and plagiarised by drayton and others, and _n_ , _seq._ plagiarised indirectly by shakespeare, his claim for the immortality of verse, and _n_ daniel's indebtedness to him, _n_ deutsche shakespeare-gesellschaft, devrient family, the, stage representation of shakespeare by, _diana_, george de montemayor's, and _two gentlemen of verona_, translations of, 'diana' the title of constable's collection of sonnets, _n_ _n_ diderot, opposition to voltaire's strictures by, 'diella,' sonnets by 'r. l.' [richard linche], digges, leonard, on the superior popularity of _julius caesar_ to jonson's _catiline_, _n_ commendatory verses on the poet, _n_ on the poet's popularity, 'don quixote' and the lost play _cardenio_, doncaster, the name of shakespeare at, donne dr. john, his poetic addresses to the countess of bedford, _n_ expression of 'love' in his 'verse letters,' his anecdote about shakespeare and jonson, donnelly, mr. ignatius, dorell, hadrian, writer of the preface to the story of 'avisa,' _double falsehood_, _or the distrest lovers_, and _n_ douce, francis, dowdall, john, dowden, professor, _n_ drake, nathan, drayton, michael, feigning old age in his sonnets, _n_ his invocations to cupid, _n_ plagiarisms in his sonnets, and _n_ follows claude de pontoux in naming his heroine 'idea,' _n_ his admission of insincerity in his sonnets, shakespeare's indebtedness to his sonnets, _n_ claims immortality for his sonnets, use of the word 'love,' _n_ title of 'hymn' given to some of his poems, _n_ identified by some as the 'rival poet,' adulation in his sonnets, _n_ shakespeare's sonnet cxliv. adapted from, _n_ entertained by shakespeare at new place, stratford, _n_ greetings to his patron in his works, droeshout, martin, engraver of the portrait in the first folio, - his uncle of the same name, a painter, droitwich, native place of john heming, one of shakespeare's actor-friends, _n_ drummond, william, of hawthornden, his translations of petrarch's sonnets, _n_ _n_ italian origin of many of his love-sonnets, and _n_ translation of a vituperative sonnet from marino, _n_ translation of a sonnet by tasso, _n_ two self-reproachful sonnets by him, _n_ _see also_ (appendix) and _n_ dryden, a criticism of the poet's work by, presented with a copy of the chandos portrait of the poet, ducis, jean-francois, adaptations of the poet for the french stage dugdale, gilbert, _n_ dulwich, manor of, purchased by edward alleyn, _n_ dumain, lord, in _love's labour's lost_, _n_ dumas, alexandre, adaptation of _hamlet_ by, duport, paul, repeats voltaire's censure, dyce, alexander, _n_ on _the two noble kinsmen_, his edition of shakespeare, e ecclesiastes, book of, poetical versions of, and _n_ eden, translation of magellan's 'voyage to the south pole' by, edgar, eleazar, publisher, editions of shakespeare's works. _see under_ quarto and folio editors of shakespeare, in the eighteenth century, - in the nineteenth century, - of variorum editions, education of shakespeare: the poet's masters at stratford grammar school, his instruction in latin, no proof that he studied the greek tragedians, _n_ alleged knowledge of the classics and of italian and french literature, study of the bible in his schooldays, and _n_ removal from school, _edward ii_, marlowe's, _richard ii_ suggested by, _edward iii_, a play of uncertain authorship, quotation from one of shakespeare's sonnets, and _n_ edwardes, richard, author of the lost play _palaemon and arcyte_, edwards, thomas, 'canons of criticism' of, eld, george, printer, _n_ elizabeth, princess, marriage of, performance of _the tempest_, etc. at, elizabeth, queen: her visit to kenilworth, shakespeare and other actors play before her, shows the poet special favour, her enthusiasm for falstaff, extravagant compliments to her, called 'cynthia' by the poets, elegies on her, compliment to her in _midsummer night's dream_, her objections to _richard ii_, death, her imprisonment of southampton, elizabethan stage society, _n_ _n_ elton, mr. charles, q.c., on the dower of the poet's widow, _n_ elze, friedrich karl, 'life of shakespeare' by, shakespeare studies of, 'emaricdulfe,' sonnets by 'e.c.,' _n_ _endymion_, lyly's, and _love's labour's lost_, eschenburg, johann joachim, completes wieland's german prose translation of shakespeare, _error_, _historie of_, and _comedy of errors_, essex, robert devereux, second earl of, company of actors under the patronage of, an enthusiastic reception predicted for him in london in _henry v_, trial and execution, his relations with the earl of southampton, _euphues_, lyly's, polonius's advice to laertes borrowed from, _n_ euripides, _andromache_ of, _n_ evans, sir hugh, quotes latin phrases, sings snatches of marlowe's 'come live with me and be my love,' evelyn, john, on the change of taste regarding the drama, _n_ _every man in his humour_, shakespeare takes a part in the performance of, prohibition on its publication, f _faire em_, a play of doubtful authorship, falstaff, queen elizabeth's enthusiasm for, named originally 'sir john oldcastle,' objections raised to the name, the attraction of his personality, his last moments, letter from the countess of southampton on, and _n_ farmer, dr. richard, on shakespeare's education, farmer, mr. john s., _n_ 'farmer ms., the dr.,' davies's 'gulling sonnets' in, _n_ fastolf, sir john, faucit, helen. _see_ martin, lady _felix and philomena_, _history of_, 'fidessa,' griffin's, _n_ field, henry, father of the london printer, field, richard, a friend of shakespeare, apprenticed to the london printer, thomas vautrollier, his association with the poet, publishes 'venus and adonis,' and 'lucrece,' finnish, translations of shakespeare in, fisher, mr. clement, fitton, mary, and the 'dark lady,' _n_ _n_ _n_ fleay, mr. f. g., metrical tables by, _n_ on shakespeare's and drayton's sonnets, _n_ fletcher, giles, on time, _n_ his 'imitation' of other poets, admits insincerity in his sonnets, his 'licia,' fletcher, john, collaborates with shakespeare in _the two noble kinsmen_ and _henry viii_, fletcher, lawrence, actor, takes a theatrical company to scotland, and _n_ florio, john, and holofernes, _n_ _n_ the sonnet prefixed to his 'second frutes,' and _n_ southampton's _protege_, _n_ his translation of montaigne's 'essays,' _n_ his 'worlde of wordes,' _n_ his praise of southampton, (and appendix iv.) southampton's italian tutor, folio, the first, : editor's note as to the ease with which the poet wrote, the syndicate for its production, its contents, prefatory matter, value of the text, order of the plays, the typography, unique copies, - the sheldon copy, and _n_ number of extant copies, reprints, the 'daniel' copy, dedicated to the earl of pembroke, folio, the second, folio, the third, folio, the fourth, ford, john, similarity of theme between a song in his _broken heart_ and shakespeare's sonnet cxxvi., _n_ forgeries in the 'perkins' folio, and _n_ forgeries, shakespearean (appendix i.), - of john jordan, of the irelands, promulgated by john payne collier and others, - forman, dr. simon, forrest, edwin, american actor, fortune theatre, _n_ france, versions and criticisms of shakespeare in, - stage representation of the poet in, bibliographical note on the sonnet in ( - ) (appendix x.), - fraunce, abraham, _n_ freiligrath, ferdinand von, german translation of shakespeare by, french, the poet's acquaintance with, french, george russell, 'freyndon' (or frittenden), friendship, sonnets of, shakespeare's, - frittenden, kent. _see_ freyndon fulbroke park and the poaching episode, fuller, thomas, allusion in his 'worthies' to sir john fastolf, on the 'wit combats' between shakespeare and jonson, the first biographer of the poet, fulman, rev. w., furness, mr. h. h., his 'new variorum' edition of shakespeare, furness, mrs. h. h., furnivall, dr. f. j., _n_ _n_ g gale, dunstan, ganymede, barnfield's sonnets to, and _n_ garnett, henry, the jesuit, probably alluded to in _macbeth_, garrick, david, - gascoigne, george, his definition of a sonnet, _n_ his _supposes_, gastrell, rev, francis, gates, sir thomas, germany, shakespearean representations in, translations of the poet's works and criticisms in, - shakespeare society in, gervinus, 'commentaries' by, _n_ 'gesta romanorum' and the _merchant of venice_, ghost in _hamlet_, the, played by shakespeare, gilchrist, octavius, gildon, charles, on the rapid production of the _merry wives of windsor_, on the dispute at eton as to the supremacy of shakespeare as a poet, _n_ giovanni (fiorentino), ser, shakespeare's indebtedness to his 'il pecorone,' _giuletta_, _la_, by luigi da porto, _n_ 'globe' edition of shakespeare, globe theatre: built in , described by shakespeare, cf. mainly occupied by the poet's company after , profits shared by shakespeare, the leading london theatre, revival of _richard ii_ at, litigation of burbage's heirs, prices of admission, annual receipts, performance of _a winter's tale_, its destruction by fire, _n_ the new building, shakespeare's disposal of his shares, goethe, criticism and adaptation of shakespeare by, golding, arthur, his english version of the 'metamorphoses,' _n_ gollancz, mr. israel, _n_ googe, barnabe, his use of the word 'sonnet,' _n_ gosson, stephen, his 'schoole of abuse,' gottsched, j. c., denunciation of shakespeare by, gounod, opera of _romeo and juliet_ by, gower, john, represented by the speaker of the prologues in _pericles_, his 'confessio amantis,' gower, lord ronald, grammaticus, saxo, grave, shakespeare's, gray's inn hall, performance of _the comedy of errors_ in, and _n_ greek, shakespeare's alleged acquaintance with, and _n_ green, c. f., greene, robert, charged with selling the same play to two companies, _n_ his attack on shakespeare, his publisher's apology, his share in the original draft of _henry vi_, his influence on shakespeare, describes a meeting with a player, _a winter's tale_ founded on his _pandosto_, dedicatory greetings in his works, greene, thomas, actor at the red bull theatre, _n_ greene, thomas ('_alias_ shakespeare'), a tenant of new place, and shakespeare's legal adviser, and _n_ greenwich palace, shakespeare and other actors play before queen elizabeth at, _n_ greet, hamlet in gloucestershire, identical with the 'greece' in the _taming of the shrew_, grendon, near oxford, shakespeare's alleged sojourn there, greville, sir fulke, complains of the circulation of uncorrected manuscript copies of the 'arcadia,' _n_ invocations to cupid in his collection, 'coelica,' _n_ his 'sonnets,' griffin, bartholomew, _n_ plagiarises daniel, griggs, mr. w., _n_ grimm, baron, recognition of shakespeare's greatness by, _n_ 'groats-worth of wit,' greene's pamphlet containing his attack on shakespeare, guizot, francois, revision of le tourneur's translation by, 'gulling sonnets,' sir john davies's, shakespeare's sonnet xxvi. parodied in, _n_ h 'h., mr. w.,' 'patron' of thorpe's pirated issue of the sonnets, identified with william hall, his publication of southwell's 'a foure-fould meditation,' erroneously said to indicate the earl of pembroke, - improbability of the suggestion that a william hughes was indicated, _n_ 'w. h.'s' true relations with thomas thorpe, - hacket, marian and cicely, in the _taming of the shrew_, - hal, prince, hales, john (of eton), on the superiority of shakespeare to all other poets, and _n_ hall, elizabeth, the poet's granddaughter, her first marriage to thomas nash, and her second marriage to john barnard (or bernard), her death and will, hall, dr. john, the poet's son-in-law, hall, mrs. susanna, the poet's elder daughter, inherits the chief part of the poet's estate, her death, her 'witty' disposition, hall, william ( ), on the inscription over the poet's grave, and _n_ hall, william ( ), see 'h., mr. w.' halliwell-phillipps, james orchard, the indenture of the poet's property in blackfriars in the collection of, _n_ his edition of shakespeare, his great labours on shakespeare's biography, _hamlet_: parallelisms in the _electra_ of sophocles, the _andromache_ of euripides, and the _persae_ of aeschylus, _n_ polonius's advice to laertes borrowed from lyly's _euphues_, _n_ allusion to boy-actors, _n_ and _n_ date of production, previous popularity of the story on the stage, and _n_ sources drawn upon by the poet, - success of burbage in the title-part, the problem of its publication, - the three versions, - theobald's emendations, its world-wide popularity, the longest of all the poet's plays, the humorous element, its central interest, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - hanmer, sir thomas, his edition of shakespeare, harington, sir john, translates ariosto, harington, lucy, her marriage to the third earl of bedford, harness, william, harrison, john, publisher of 'lucrece,' harsnet, 'declaration of popish impostures' by, hart family, the, and the poet's reputed birthplace, hart, joan, shakespeare's sister, his bequest to her, her three sons, hart, john, hart, joseph. c., harvey, gabriel, bestows on spenser the title of 'an english petrarch,' justifies the imitation of petrarch, _n_ his parody of sonnetteering, and _n_ his advice to barnes, his 'four letters and certain sonnets,' hathaway, anne. see shakespeare, anne hathaway, catherine, sister of anne hathaway, hathaway, joan, mother of anne hathaway, hathaway, richard, marriage of his daughter anne (or agnes) to the poet, - his position as a yeoman, his will, haughton, william, _n_ hawthorne, nathaniel, hazlitt, william, and shakespearean criticism, healey, john, _n_ 'hecatommithi,' cinthio's, shakespeare's indebtedness to, heine, studies of shakespeare's heroines by, helena in _all's well that ends well_, heming, john (actor-friend of shakespeare), wrongly claimed as a native of stratford, _n_ the poet's bequest to, signs dedication of first folio, henderson, john, actor, heneage, sir thomas, _n_ henley-in-arden, henrietta maria, queen, billeted on mrs. hall (the poet's daughter) at stratford, _henry iv_ (parts i. and ii.): passage ridiculing the affectations of _euphues_, _n_ sources drawn upon, justice shallow, references to persons and districts familiar to the poet, the characters, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _henry v_, _the famous victories of_, the groundwork of _henry v_ and of _henry v_, _henry v_: french dialogues, disdainful allusion to sonnetteering, date of production imperfect drafts of the play, first folio version of , the comic characters, the victory of agincourt, the poet's final experiment in the dramatisation of english history, the allusions to the earl of essex, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _henry vi_ (pt. i.): performed at the rose theatre in , nash's remarks on, first publication, contains only a slight impress of the poet's style, performed by lord strange's men, _henry vi_ (pt. ii.): parallel in the _oedipus coloneus_ of sophocles with a passage in, _n_ publication of a first draft with the title of _the first part of the contention betwixt the two famous houses of yorke and lancaster_, performed by lord strange's men, revision of the play, the poet's coadjutors in the revision, _henry vi_ (pt. iii.): performed by a company other than the poet's own, performed in the autumn of , publication of a first draft of the play under the title of _the true tragedie of richard_, _duke of yorke_, _&c._, performed by lord pembroke's men, partly remodelled, the poet's coadjutors in the revision, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _henry viii_, attributed to shakespeare and fletcher, noticed by sir henry wotton, first publication, the portions that can confidently be assigned to shakespeare, uncertain authorship of wolsey's farewell to cromwell, fletcher's share, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - henryson, robert, henslowe, philip, erects the rose theatre, bribes a publisher to abandon the publication of _patient grissell_, _n_ _n_ 'heptameron of civil discources,' whetstone's, 'herbert, mr. william,' his alleged identity with 'mr. w. h.' (appendix vi.), - herder, johann gottfried, 'hero and leander,' marlowe's, quotation in _as you like it_, from, herringman, h., hervey, sir william, _n_ hess, j. r., heyse, paul, german translation of shakespeare by, heywood, thomas, his allusion to the dislike of actors to the publication of plays, _n_ his poems pirated in the 'passionate pilgrim,' hill, john, marriage of his widow, agnes or anne, to robert arden, holinshed's 'chronicles,' materials taken by shakespeare from, holland, translations of shakespeare in, holland, hugh, holmes, nathaniel, holmes, william, bookseller, _n_ holofernes, quotes latin phrases from lily's grammar, groundless assumption that he is a caricature of florio, _n_ _n_ horace, his claim for the immortality of verse, and _n_ _n_ hotspur, howard of effingham, the lord admiral, charles, lord, his company of actors, its short alliance with shakespeare's company, spenser's sonnet to, hudson, rev. h. n., hughes, mrs. margaret, plays female parts in the place of boys, hughes, william, and 'mr. w. h.,' _n_ hugo, francois victor, translation of shakespeare by, hugo, victor, _humourous day's mirth_, _an_, _n_ hungary, translations and performances of shakespeare in, hunsdon (lord chamberlain), george carey, second lord, his company of players, promotion of the company to be the king's players on the accession of king james, hunsdon (lord chamberlain), henry carey, first lord, his company of players, shakespeare a member of this company, hunt, thomas, master of stratford grammar school, hunter, rev. joseph, 'huon of bordeaux,' hints for the story of oberon from, 'hymn,' use of the word as the title of poems, _n_ 'hymnes of astraea,' sir john davies's, i 'idea',' title of drayton's collection of sonnets, 'ignoto,' immortality of verse, claimed by shakespeare for his sonnets, and _n_ a common theme with classical and french writers, and _n_ treated by drayton and daniel, imogen, the character of, income, shakespeare's, - incomes of actors, and _n_ india, translations and representations of shakespeare in, _ingannati_, (_gl'_), its resemblance to _twelfth night_, ingram, dr., on the 'weak endings' in shakespeare, _n_ ireland forgeries, the (appendix .), ireland, samuel, on the poaching episode, irishman, the only, in shakespeare's _dramatis personae_, irving, sir henry, italian, the poet's acquaintance with, - cf. _n_ italy, shakespeare's knowledge of, translations and performances of shakespeare in, the original home of the sonnet, _n_ list of sonnetteers of the sixteenth century in, _n_ itinerary of shakespeare's company in the provinces between and , and _n_ j jaggard, isaac, jaggard, william, piratically inserts two of shakespeare's sonnets in his 'passionate pilgrim,' prints the first folio, james vi of scotland and i of england, his favour bestowed on actors, _n_ sonnets to, his appreciation of shakespeare, his accession to the english throne, grants a license to the poet and his company, his patronage of shakespeare and his company - performances of _a winter's tale_ and _the tempest_ before him, and _n_ _n_ james, sir henry, jameson, mrs., jamyn, amadis, _n_ jansen, cornelius, alleged portrait of shakespeare by, jansen or janssen, gerard, _jeronimo_, resemblance between the stories of _hamlet_ and, _n_ _jew of malta_, marlowe's, _jew . . . showne at the bull_, a lost play, jodelle, estienne, resemblances in 'venus and adonis' to a poem by, _n_ his parody of the vituperative sonnet, and _n_ and 'la pleiade,' john, king, old play on, attributed to the poet, _john_, _king_, shakespeare's play of, printed in , the originality and strength of the three chief characters in, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography) - johnson, dr., his story of shakespeare, his edition of shakespeare, his reply to voltaire, johnson, gerard, his monument to the poet in stratford church, johnson, robert, lyrics set to music by, and _n_ jones, inigo, designs scenic decoration for masques, _n_ jonson, ben, on shakespeare's lack of exact scholarship, shakespeare takes part in the performance of _every man in his humour_ and in _sejanus_, on _titus andronicus_, on the appreciation of shakespeare shown by elizabeth and james i, on metrical artifice in sonnets, _n_ use of the word 'lover,' _n_ identified by some as the 'rival poet,' his 'dedicatory' sonnets, _n_ his apostrophe of the earl of desmond, relations with shakespeare, gift of shakespeare to his son, share in the appendix to 'love's' martyr,' quarrel with marston and dekker, - his 'poetaster,' and _n_ allusions to him in the _return from parnassus_, his scornful criticism of _julius caesar_, _n_ satiric allusion to _a winters tale_, his sneering reference to _the tempest_ in _bartholomew fair_, entertained by shakespeare at new place, stratford, testimony to shakespeare's character, his tribute to shakespeare in the first folio, his _hue and cry after cupid_, _n_ thorpe's publication of some of his works, _n_ jordan, john, forgeries of (appendix .), jordan, mrs., jordan, thomas, his lines on men playing female parts, _n_ jourdain, sylvester, 'jubilee,' shakespeare's, _julius caesar_: use of the word 'lovers,' _n_ plot drawn from plutarch, date of production, a play of the same title acted in , general features of the play jonson's hostile criticism, _n_ _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - jusserand, m. j. j., _n_ _n_ _n_ k kean, edmund, keller, a., german translation of shakespeare by, kemble, charles, kemble, john philip, kemp, william, comedian, plays at greenwich palace, kenilworth, elizabeth's visit to, cf. ketzcher, n., translation into russian by, killigrew, thomas, and the substitution of women for boys in female parts, king's players, the company of, shakespeare one of its members, the poet's plays performed almost exclusively by, theatres at which it performed, provincial towns which it visited between and , and _n_ king james's license to, kirkland, the name of shakespeare at, kirkman, francis, publisher, knight, charles, knollys, sir william, _n_ kok, a. s., translation in dutch by, korner, j., german translation of shakespeare by, kraszewski, polish translation edited by, kreyssig, friedrich a. t., studies of the poet by, kyd, thomas, influence of, on shakespeare, _n_ and _titus andronicus_, his _spanish tragedy_, and the story of hamlet, and _n_ shakespeare's acquaintance with his work, _n_ l 'l., h.,' initials on seal attesting shakespeare's autograph. _see_ lawrence, henry la harpe and the shakespearean controversy in france, labe, louise, _n_ lamb, charles, lambarde, william, lambert, edmund, mortgagee of the asbies property, lambert, john, proposal to confer upon him an absolute title to the asbies property, john shakespeare's lawsuit against, lane, nicholas, a creditor of john shakespeare, langbaine, gerard, laroche, benjamin, translation by, latin, the poet's acquaintance with, 'latten,' use of the word in shakespeare, _n_ 'laura,' shakespeare's allusion to her as petrarch's heroine, title of tofte's collection of sonnets, law, the poet's knowledge of, and cf. _n_ and lawrence, henry, his seal beneath shakespeare's autograph, _lear_, _king_: date of composition, produced at whitehall, butter's imperfect editions, sources of story, the character of the king, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography) - legal terminology in plays and poems of the shakespearean period, _n_ cf. legge, dr. thomas, a latin piece on richard iii by, leicester, earl of, his entertainment of queen elizabeth at kenilworth, his regiment of warwickshire youths for service in the low countries, his company of players, leo, f. a. leoni, michele, italian translation of the poet issued by, 'leopold' shakspere, the, lessing, defence of shakespeare by, l'estrange, sir nicholas, le tourneur, pierre, french prose translation of shakespeare by, 'licia,' fletcher's collection of sonnets called, _n_ _n_ linche, richard, his sonnets entitled 'diella,' lintot, bernard, locke (or lok), henry, sonnets by, _locrine_, _tragedie of_, lodge, thomas, his 'scillaes metamorphosis' drawn upon by shakespeare for 'venus and adonis,' and _n_ his plagiarisms, and _n_ comparison of lips with coral in 'phillis,' _n_ his 'rosalynde' the foundation of _as you like it_, his 'phillis,' _london prodigall_, lope de vega dramatises the story of romeo and juliet, _n_ lopez, roderigo, jewish physician, and _n_ lorkin, rev. thomas, on the burning of the globe theatre, _n_ love, treatment of, in shakespeare's sonnets, and _n_ and _n_ in the sonnets of other writers, - _n_ 'lover' and 'love' synonymous with 'friend' and 'friendship' in elizabethan english, _n_ 'lover's complaint, a,' possibly written by shakespeare, _love's labour's lost_: latin phrases in, probably the poet's first dramatic production, its plot not borrowed, its characters, and _n_ its revision in , date of publication, influence of lyly, performed at whitehall, examples of the poet's first attempts at sonnetteering, scornful allusion to sonnetteering, the praise of 'blackness,' and _n_ performed before anne of denmark at southampton's house in the strand, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _love's labour's won_, attributed by meres to shakespeare, see _all's well_ 'love's martyr, or rosalin's complaint,' _n_ lowell, james russell, _n_ lucian, the _timon_ of, 'lucrece:' published in , daniel's 'complainte of rosamond' reflected, and _n_ the passage on time elaborated from watson, and _n_ dedicated to the earl of southampton, enthusiastic reception of, - quarto editions in the poet's lifetime, posthumous editions, lucy, sir thomas, his prosecution of shakespeare for poaching, caricatured in justice shallow, luddington, lydgate, 'troy book' of, drawn upon for _troilus and cressida_, lyly, john, followed by shakespeare in his comedies, his addresses to cupid, _n_ his influence on _midsummer night's dream_, lyrics in shakespeare's plays, and _n_ m 'm. i.' _see also_ 's., i. m.' macbeth: references to the climate of inverness, _n_ date of composition, the story drawn from holinshed, points of difference from other plays of the same class, middleton's plagiarisms, not printed until , the shortest of the poet's tragedies, performance at the globe, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - macbeth, lady, and aeschylus's clytemnestra, _n_ mackay, mr. herbert, on the dower of the poet's widow, macklin, charles, macready, william charles, madden, rt. hon. d. h., on shakespeare's knowledge of sport, _n_ magellan, 'voyage to the south pole' by, magny, olivier de, malone, edmund, on shakespeare's first employment in the theatre, on the poet's residence, on the date of _the tempest_, his writings on the poet, malvolio, manners, lady bridget, and _n_ manningham, john (diarist), a description of _twelfth night_ by, manuscript, circulation of sonnets in, and _n_ (appendix ix.), marino, vituperative sonnet by, _n_ _n_ markham, gervase, his adulation of southampton in his sonnets, marlowe, christopher, his share in the revision of _henry vi_, his influence on shakespeare, - shakespeare's acknowledgments, his translation of lucan, marmontel and the shakespearean controversy in france, marot, clement, marriage, treatment of, in the sonnets, marshall, mr. f. a., marston, john, identified by some as the 'rival poet,' his quarrel with jonson, - martin, one of the english actors who played in scotland, and _n_ martin, lady, masks worn by men playing women's parts, _n_ massey, mr. gerald, on the sonnets, _n_ massinger, philip, portions of _the two noble kinsmen_ assigned to, and _henry viii_, and _n_ 'mastic,' use of the word, _n_ masuccio, the story of romeo and juliet told in his _novellino_, matthew, sir toby, _measure for measure_: the offence of claudio, _n_ date of composition, produced at whitehall, not printed in the poet's lifetime, source of plot, deviations from the old story, creation of the character of mariana, the philosophic subtlety of the poet's argument, references to a ruler's dislike of mobs, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - melin de saint-gelais, memorials in sculpture to the poet, _menaechmi_ of plautus, mendelssohn, setting of shakespearean songs by, _merchant of venice_: the influence of marlowe, sources of the plot, the last act, date of, use of the word 'lover,' _n_ _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - meres, francis, recommends shakespeare's 'sugred' sonnets, his quotations from horace and ovid on the immortalising power of verse, _n_ attributes _love's labour's won_ to shakespeare, testimony to the poet's reputation, mermaid tavern, _merry devill of edmonton_, _n_ _merry wives of windsor_: latin phrases put into the mouth of sir hugh evans, sir thomas lucy caricatured in justice shallow, lines from marlowe sung by sir hugh evans, period of production, publication of, source of the plot, chief characteristics, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - metre of shakespeare's plays a rough guide to the chronology, - of shakespeare's poems, - of shakespeare's sonnets, and _n_ mezieres, alfred, michel, francisque, translation by, middle temple hall, performance of _twelfth night_ at, middleton, thomas, his allusion to le motte in _blurt_, _master constable_, _n_ his plagiarisms of _macbeth_ in _the witch_, _midsummer night's dream_: references to the pageants at kenilworth park, reference to spenser's 'teares of the muses,' date of production, sources of the story, the final scheme, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - milton, applies the epithet 'sweetest' to shakespeare, _n_ his epitaph on shakespeare, minto, professor, claims chapman as shakespeare's 'rival' poet, _n_ miranda, character of, 'mirror of martyrs,' _miseries of enforced marriage_, 'monarcho, fantasticall,' _n_ money, its purchasing power in the sixteenth century, _n_ _n_ montagu, mrs. elizabeth, montaigne, 'essays' of, _n_ _n_ montegut, emile, translation by, montemayor, george de, montgomery, philip herbert, earl of, monument to shakespeare in stratford church, morley, lord, _n_ moseley, humphrey, publisher, moth, in _love's labour's lost_, _n_ moulton, dr. richard g. _mucedorus_, a play by an unknown author, _much ado about nothing_: a jesting allusion to sonnetteering, its publication, date of composition, the comic characters, italian origin of hero and claudio, parts taken by william kemp and cowley, quotation from the _spanish tragedy_, _n_ _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - mulberry-tree at new place, the, and _n_ music at stage performances in shakespeare's day, _n_ its indebtedness to the poet, n nash, anthony, the poet's legacy to, nash, john, the poet's legacy to, nash, thomas ( ), marries elizabeth hall, shakespeare's granddaughter, nash, thomas ( ), on the performance of _henry vi_. piracy of his 'terrors of the night,' _n_ on the immortalising power of verse, use of the word 'lover,' _n_ his appeals to southampton, _n_ _n_ _n_ his preface to 'astrophel and stella,' _n_ navarre, king of, in _love's labour's lost_, _n_ neil, samuel, nekrasow and gerbel, translation into russian by, new place, stratford, shakespeare's purchase of, entertainment of jonson and drayton at, the poet's death at, sold on the death of lady barnard (the poet's granddaughter) to sir edward walker, pulled down, newcastle, margaret cavendish, duchess of, criticism of the poet by, newdegate, lady, _n_ newington butts theatre, newman, thomas, piratical publication of sir philip sidney's sonnets by, _n_ and _n_ nicolson, george, english agent in scotland, _n_ nottingham, earl of, his company of players, taken into the patronage of henry, prince of wales, _n_ o oberon, vision of, in 'huon of bordeaux,' oechelhaeuser, w., acting edition of the poet by, oldcastle, sir john, play on his history, 'oldcastle, sir john,' the original name of falstaff in _henry iv_, oldys, william, olney, henry, publisher, _orlando furioso_, _n_ ortlepp, e., german translation of shakespeare by, _othello_: date of composition, not printed in the poet's lifetime, plot drawn from cinthio's 'hecatommithi,' new characters and features introduced into the story, exhibits the poet's fully matured powers, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - ovid, influence on shakespeare of his 'metamorphoses,' and _n_ claims immortality for his verse, and _n_ _n_ the poet's alleged signature on the title-page of a copy of the 'metamorphoses' in the bodleian library, oxford, the poet's visits to, _hamlet_ acted at, oxford, earl of, his company of actors, 'oxford' edition of shakespeare, the, p painter, william, his 'palace of pleasure' and _romeo and juliet_, _all's well that ends well_, _timon of athens_, and _coriolanus_, _palaemon and arcyte_, a lost play, _palamon and arsett_, a lost play, palmer, john, actor, 'palladis tamia,' eulogy on the poet in, 'pandora,' soothern's collection of love-sonnets, _n_ _pandosto_ (afterwards called _dorastus and fawnia_), shakespeare's indebtedness to, parodies on sonnetteering, - and _n_ 'parthenophil and parthenophe,' barnes's, pasquier, estienne, passerat, jean, 'passionate centurie of love,' watson's, the passage on time in, plagiarisation of petrarch in, _n_ _n_ 'passionate pilgrim,' piratical insertion of two sonnets in, the contents of, _n_ printed with shakespeare's poems, patrons of companies of players, adulation offered to, and _n_ and _n_ pavier, thomas, printer, 'pecorone, il,' by ser giovanni fiorentino, shakespeare's indebtedness to, and _n_ w. g. waters's translation of, _n_ peele, george, his share in the original draft of _henry vi_, pembroke, countess of, dedication of daniel's 'delia' to, homage paid to, by nicholas breton, _n_ pembroke, henry, second earl of, his company of players, perform _henry vi_ (part iii.), and _titus andronicus_, pembroke, william, third earl of, the question of the identification of 'mr. w. h.' with, - performance at his wilton residence, _n_ dedication of the first folio to, his alleged relations with shakespeare, - the identification of the 'dark lady' with his mistress, mary fitton, _n_ the mistaken notion that shakespeare was his _protege_, _n_ dedications by thorpe to, and _n_ _n_ penrith, shakespeares at, pepys, his criticisms of _the tempest_ and _midsummer night's dream_, percy, william, his sonnets, entitled 'coelia,' perez, antonio, and antonio in _the merchant of venice_, _n_ _pericles_: date of composition, a work of collaboration, the poet's contributions, dates of the various editions, not included in the first folio, included in third folio, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - perkes (clement), in _henry iv._, member of a family at stinchcombe hill in the sixteenth century, 'perkins folio,' forgeries in the, _n_ and _n_ personalities on the stage, _n_ peruse, jean de la, petowe, henry, elegy on queen elizabeth by, petrarch, emulated by elizabethan sonnetteers, _n_ feigns old age in his sonnets, _n_ his metre, spenser's translations from, imitation of his sonnets justified by gabriel harvey, _n_ plagiarisms of, admitted by sonnetteers, _n_ wyatt's translations of two of his sonnets, _n_ plagiarised indirectly by shakespeare, and _n_ _n_ the melancholy of his sonnets, _n_ imitated in france, phelps, samuel, phillips, augustine, actor, friend of shakespeare, induced to revive _richard ii_ at the globe in , his death, phillips, edward (milton's nephew), criticism of the poet by, editor of drummond's sonnets, _n_ 'phillis,' lodge's, _n_ and _n_ philosophy, chapman's sonnets in praise of, 'phoenix and the turtle, the,' pichot, a., 'pierce pennilesse.' see nash, thomas ( ) 'pierces supererogation,' by gabriel harvey, _n_ pindar, his claim for the immortality of verse, and _n_ plague, the, in stratford-on-avon, in london, plautus, the plot of the _comedy of errors_ drawn from, translation of, plays, sale of, and _n_ revision of, their publication deprecated by playhouse authorities, _n_ only a small proportion printed, _n_ prices paid for, _n_ 'pleiade, la,' title of the literary comrades of ronsard, list of, 'plutarch,' north's translation of, shakespeare's indebtedness and _n_ and _n_ poaching episode, the, 'poetaster,' jonson's, and _n_ poland, translations and performances of shakespeare in, pontoux, claude de, name of his heroine copied by drayton, pope, alexander, edition of shakespeare by, porto, luigi da, adapts the story of romeo and juliet, _n_ portraits of the poet, - _n_ the 'stratford' portrait, droeshout's engraving, the 'droeshout' painting, - portrait in the clarendon gallery, 'ely house' portrait, chandos portrait, 'jansen' portrait, 'felton' and 'soest' portraits, miniatures, pott, mrs. henry, prevost, abbe, pritchard, mrs., procter, bryan waller (barry cornwall), _promos and cassandra_, prospero, character of, provinces, the, practice of theatrical touring in, - publication of dramas: deprecated by playhouse authorities, _n_ only a small proportion of the dramas of the period printed, _n_ sixteen of shakespeare's plays published in his lifetime, punning, _n_ _puritaine_, _or the widdow of watling-streete_, _the_, puritanism, alleged prevalence in stratford-on-avon of, _n_ _n_ its hostility to dramatic representations, _n_ _n_ the poet's references to, _n_ 'pyramus and thisbe,' q quarles, john, 'banishment of tarquin' of, quarto editions of the plays, in the poet's lifetime, posthumous, of the poems in the poet's lifetime, posthumous, 'quatorzain,' term applied to the sonnet, _n_ cf. _n_ 'queen's children of the chapel,' the, - queen's company of actors, the, welcomed to stratford-on-avon by john shakespeare, its return to london, _n_ quiney, thomas, marries judith shakespeare, his residence and trade in stratford, his children, quinton, baptism of one of the hacket family at, r rapp, m., german translation of shakespeare by, ralegh, sir walter, extravagant apostrophe to queen elizabeth by, _n_ _n_ 'ratseis ghost,' and ratsey's address to the players, ravenscroft, edward, on _titus andronicus_, reed, isaac, reformation, the, at stratford-on-avon, _n_ rehan, miss ada, religion and philosophy, sonnets on, _return from parnassus_, _the_, _n_ - revision of plays, the poet's, reynoldes, william, the poet's legacy to, rich, barnabe, story of 'apollonius and silla' by, rich, penelope, lady, sidney's passion for, _richard ii_: the influence of marlowe, published anonymously, the deposition scene, the facts drawn from holinshed, its revival on the eve of the rising of the earl of essex, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _richard iii_: the influence of marlowe, materials drawn from holinshed, mr. swinburne's criticism, burbage's impersonation of the hero, published anonymously, colley cibber's adaptation, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - richardson, john, one of the sureties for the bond against impediments respecting shakespeare's marriage, richmond palace, performances at, ristori, madame, roberts, james, printer, robinson, clement, use of the word 'sonnet' by, _n_ roche, walter, master of stratford grammar school, _roles_, shakespeare's: at greenwich palace, _n_ in _every man in his humour_, in _sejanus_, the ghost in _hamlet_, 'played some kingly parts in sport,' adam in _as you like it_, rolfe, mr. w. j, _romeo and juliet_, plot drawn from the italian, date of composition, first printed, authentic and revised version of , two choruses in the sonnet form, satirical allusion to sonnetteering, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _romeus and juliet_, arthur brooke's, ronsard, plagiarised by english sonnetteers, _n_ _seq._ by shakespeare, and _n_ his claim for the immortality of verse, and _n_ _n_ his sonnets of vituperation, first gave the sonnet a literary vogue in france, and 'la pleiade,' modern reprint of his works, _n_ rosalind, played by a boy, _n_ rosaline, praised for her 'blackness,' 'rosalynde, euphues golden legacie,' lodge's, rose theatre, bankside: erected by philip henslowe, opened by lord strange's company, the scene of the poet's first successes, performance of _henry vi_, production of the _venesyon comedy_, rossi, representation of shakespeare by, roussillon, countess of, rowe, nicholas, on the parentage of shakespeare's wife, on shakespeare's poaching escapade, on shakespeare's performance of the ghost in _hamlet_, on the story of southampton's gift to shakespeare, on queen elizabeth's enthusiasm for the character of falstaff, on the poet's last years at stratford, on john combe's epitaph, _n_ his edition of the poet's plays, rowington, the richard and william shakespeares of, rowlands, samuel, rowley, william, roydon, matthew, poem on sir philip sidney, _n_ rumelin, gustav, rupert, prince, at stratford-on-avon, rusconi, carlo, italian prose version of shakespeare issued by, russia, translations and performances of shakespeare in, rymer, thomas, his censure of the poet, s s., m. i., tribute to the poet thus headed, and _n_ s., w., initials in willobie's book, commonness of the initials, _n_ use of the initials on works fraudulently attributed to the poet, sackville, thomas, _n_ sadler, hamlett, the poet's legacy to, saint-saens, m., opera of _henry viii_ by, st. helen's, bishopsgate, a william shakespeare in living in, and _n_ sainte-marthe, scevole de, salvini, representation of _othello_ by, sand, george, translation of _as you like it_ by, sandells, fulk, one of the sureties for the bond against impediments with respect to shakespeare's marriage, supervisor of richard hathaway's will, saperton, 'sapho and phao,' address to cupid in, _n_ _satiro-mastix_, a retort to jonson's _cynthia's revels_, savage, mr. richard, _n_ 'saviolo's practise,' scenery unknown in shakespeare's day, and _n_ designed by inigo jones for masques, _n_ sir philip sidney on difficulties arising from its absence, _n_ schiller, adaptation of _macbeth_ for the stage by, schlegel, a. w. von, german translation of shakespeare by, lectures on shakespeare by, schmidt, alexander, 'schoole of abuse,' schroeder, f. u. l., german actor of shakespeare, schubert, franz, setting of shakepearean songs by, schumann, setting of shakespearean songs by, 'scillaes metamorphosis,' lodge's, drawn upon by shakespeare for 'venus and adonis,' and _n_ scoloker, anthony, in 'daiphantus,' scotland, shakespeare's alleged travels in, - visits of actors to, scott, reginald, allusion to monarcho in 'the discoverie of witchcraft' of, _n_ scott, sir walter, at charlecote, _scourge of folly_, _n_ sedley, sir charles, apostrophe to the poet, _sejanus_, shakespeare takes part in the performance of, _selimus_, serafino dell' aquila, watson's indebtedness to, _n_ _n_ _n_ seve, maurice, and _n_ _n_ sewell, dr. george, 'shadow of the night, the,' chapman's, _n_ shakespeare, the surname of, cf. _n_ shakespeare, adam, shakespeare, ann, a sister of the poet, shakespeare, anne (or agnes): her parentage, her marriage to the poet, - assumed identification of her with anne whateley, and _n_ her debt, her husband's bequest to her, her widow's dower barred, and _n_ her wish to be buried in her husband's grave, committed by her husband to the care of the elder daughter, her death, and _n_ shakespeare, edmund, a brother of the poet, is 'a player,' death, shakespeare, gilbert, a brother of the poet, witnesses his brother's performance of adam in _as you like it_, apparently had a son named gilbert, his death not recorded, shakespeare, hamnet, son of the poet, shakespeare, henry, one of the poet's uncles, shakespeare, joan ( ), shakespeare, joan ( ), see hart, joan shakespeare, john ( ), the first recorded holder of this surname (thirteenth century), shakespeare, john ( ), the poet's father, administrator of richard shakespeare's estate, claims that his grandfather received a grant of land from henry vii, leaves snitterfield for stratford-on-avon, his business, his property in stratford and his municipal offices, marries mary arden, his children, his house in henley street, stratford, appointed alderman and bailiff, welcomes actors at stratford, his alleged sympathies with puritanism, _n_ his application for a grant of arms, _n_ - his financial difficulties, his younger children, writ of distraint issued against him, deprived of his alderman's gown, his trade of butcher, increase of pecuniary difficulties, relieved by the poet, his death, shakespeare or shakspere, john (a shoemaker), another resident at stratford, _n_ shakespeare, judith, the poet's second daughter, her marriage to thomas quiney, her father's bequest to her, her children, her death, shakespeare, margaret, shakespeare, mary, the poet's mother: her marriage, her ancestry and parentage, her property, her title to bear the arms of the arden family, her death, shakespeare, richard, a brother of the poet, his death, shakespeare, richard, of rowington, shakespeare, richard, of snitterfield, probably the poet's grandfather, his family, letters of administration of his estate, and _n_ shakespeare, richard, of wroxhall, shakespeare, susanna, a daughter of the poet, _see also_ hall, mrs. susanna shakespeare, thomas, probably one of the poet's uncles, shakespeare, william: parentage and birthplace, - childhood, education, and marriage, - (_see also_ education of shakespeare; poaching; shakespeare, anne) departure from stratford, - theatrical employment, - joins the lord chamberlain's company, his _roles_, his first plays, - publication of his poems, _seq._ his sonnets, - - patronage of the earl of southampton, - plays composed between and , - his popularity and influence, - returns to stratford, buys new place, financial position before , _seq._ financial position after , _seq._ formation of his estate at stratford, _seq._ plays written between and , - the latest plays, _seq._ performance of his plays at court, (_see also_ court; whitehall; elizabeth, queen; james i) final settlement in stratford ( ), _seq._ death ( ), his will, _seq._ monument at stratford, personal character, - his survivors and descendants, _seq._ autographs, portraits, and memorials, - bibliography, - his posthumous reputation in england and abroad, - general estimate of his work, - biographical sources, - alleged relation between him and the earl of pembroke, - shakespeare gallery in pall mall, 'shakespeare society,' the, shallow, justice, sir thomas lucy caricatured as, his house in gloucestershire, sheldon copy of the first folio, the, shelton, thomas, translator of 'don quixote,' shiels, robert, compiler of 'lives of the poets,' _n_ shottery, anne hathaway's cottage at, shylock, sources of the portrait of, and _n_ siddons, mrs. sarah, sidney, sir philip: on the absence of scenery in a theatre, _n_ translation of verses from 'diana,' shakespeare's indebtedness to him, addressed as 'willy' by some of his eulogists, his 'astrophel and stella,' brings the sonnet into vogue, piracy of his sonnets, _n_ circulation of manuscript copies of his 'arcadia,' _n_ his addresses to cupid in his 'astrophel,' _n_ warns the public against the insincerity of sonnetteers, on the conceit of the immortalising power of verse, his praise of 'blackness,' and _n_ sonnet on 'desire,' use of the word 'will,' editions of 'astrophel and stella,' popularity of his works, sidney, sir robert, singer, samuel weller, sly, christopher, probably drawn from life, _n_ smethwick, john, bookseller, smith, richard, publisher, smith, wentworth, _n_ plays produced by, _n_ smith, william, sonnets of, _n_ _n_ smith, mr. w. h., and the baconian hypothesis, smithson, miss, actress, snitterfield, richard shakespeare rents land of robert arden at, departure of john shakespeare, the poet's father, from, the arden property at, sale of mary shakespeare's property at, and _n_ snodham, thomas, printer, somers, sir george, wrecked off the bermudas, somerset house, shakespeare and his company at, and _n_ sonnet in france ( - ), the, bibliographical note on (appendix x.), - sonnets, shakespeare's: the poet's first attempts, the majority probably composed in , a few written between and (e.g. cvii.) their literary value, circulation in manuscript, commended by meres, their piratical publication in , - their form, want of continuity, the two 'groups,' main topics of the first 'group,' main topics of the second 'group,' rearrangement in the edition of , autobiographical only in a limited sense, censure of them by sir john davies, their borrowed conceits, - indebtedness to drayton, petrarch, ronsard, de baif, desportes, and others, - the poet's claim of immortality for his sonnets, - cf. _n_ the 'will sonnets,' (and appendix viii) praise of 'blackness,' vituperation, - 'dedicatory' sonnets, _seq._ the 'rival poet,' - sonnets of friendship, - the supposed story of intrigue - summary of conclusions respecting the sonnets, - edition of , sonnets, quoted with explanatory comments: xx. _n_ : xxvi. _n_ : xxxii. _n_ : xxxvii. xxxviii. : xxxix. : xlvi.-xlvii. _n_ lv. : lxxiv. (_quot._) : lxxviii. lxxx. : lxxxv. : lxxxvi. : lxxxviii. lxxxix. : xciv. : c. ciii. : cvii. _n_ cviii. : cx. : cxi. : cxix. and _n_ cxxiv. : cxxvi. and _n_ : cxxvii. cxxix. and _n_ : cxxxii. cxxxv.-cxxxvi. - : cxxxviii. cxliii. _n_ and _n_ : cxliv. cliii.-cliv. and _n_ the vogue of the elizabethan: english sonnettering inaugurated by wyatt and surrey, followed by thomas watson, sidney's 'astrophel and stella,' and _n_ poets celebrate patrons' virtues in sonnets, conventional device of sonnetteers of feigning old age, _n_ lack of genuine sentiment, french and italian models, and _n_ - appendices ix. and x. translations from du bellay, desportes, and petrarch, and _n_ admissions of insincerity, censure of false sentiment in sonnets, shakespeare's scornful allusions to sonnets in his plays, vituperative sonnets, - the word 'sonnet' often used for 'song' or 'poem,' _n_ i. collected sonnets of feigned love, - , - ii. sonnets to patrons, iii. sonnets on philosophy and religion, number of sonnets published between and , - various poems in other stanzas practically belonging to the sonnet category, _n_ soothern, john, sonnets to the earl of oxford, _n_ sophocles, parallelisms with the works of shakespeare, _n_ southampton, henry wriothesley, third earl of, the dedications to him of 'venus and adonis' and 'lucrece,' his patronage of florio, _n_ his patronage of shakespeare, - his gift to the poet, his youthful appearance, his identity with the youth of shakespeare's sonnets of 'friendship' evidenced by his portraits, and _n_ imprisonment, his long hair, _n_ his beauty, his youthful career, - as a literary patron, - southwell, robert, circulation of incorrect copies of 'mary magdalene's tears' by, _n_ publication of "a foure-fould meditation' by, and _n_ _n_ dedication of his 'short rule of life,' southwell, father thomas, spanish, translation of shakespeare's plays into, _spanish tragedy_, kyd's, popularity of, quoted in the _taming of the shrew_, _n_ spedding, james, spelling of the poet's name, - spenser, edmund: probably attracted to shakespeare by the poems 'venus and adonis' and 'lucrece,' his description of shakespeare in 'colin clouts come home againe,' shakespeare's reference to spenser's work in _midsummer night's dream_, spenser's allusion to 'our pleasant willy' not a reference to the poet, and _n_ his description of the 'gentle spirit' no description of shakespeare, and _n_ translation of sonnets from du bellay and petrarch, called by gabriel harvey 'an english petrarch,' and cf. _n_ on the immortalising power of verse, his apostrophe to admiral lord charles howard, his 'amoretti,' and _n_ dedication of his 'faerie queene,' 'spirituall sonnettes' by constable, sport, shakespeare's knowledge of, and _n_ stael, madame de, stafford, lord, his company of actors, stage, conditions of, in shakespeare's day: absence of scenery and scenic costume, and _n_ the performance of female parts by men or boys, and _n_ the curtain and balcony of the stage, _n_ stanhope of harrington, lord, _n_ 'staple of news, the,' jonson's quotations from _julius caesar_ in, _n_ staunton, howard, his edition of the poet, steele, richard, on betterton's rendering of othello, steevens, george: his edition of shakespeare, his revision of johnson's edition, his criticisms, the 'puck of commentators,' stinchcombe hill referred to as 'the hill' in _henry iv_, stopes, mrs. c. c., strange, lord. _see_ derby, earl of straparola, 'notti' of, and the _merry wives of windsor_, stratford-on-avon, settlement of john shakespeare, the poet's father, at, property owned by john shakespeare in, the poet's birthplace at, the shakespeare museum at, the plague in at, actors for the first time at, and the reformation, _n_ the shoemakers' company and its master, _n_ the grammar school, shakespeare's departure from, native place of richard field, allusions in the _taming of the shrew_ to, the poet's return in to, the poet's purchase of new place, appeals from townsmen to the poet for aid, the poet's purchase of land at, - the poet's last years at, attempt to enclose common lands and shakespeare's interest in it, the poet's death and burial at, shakespeare memorial building at, the 'jubilee' and the tercentenary, suckling, sir john, 'sugred,' an epithet applied to the poet's work, and _n_ sullivan, barry, sully, m. mounet, and _n_ sumarakow, translation into russian by, _supposes_, the, of george gascoigne, surrey, earl of, sonnets of, _n_ sussex, earl of, his company of actors, _titus andronicus_ performed by, swedish, translations of shakespeare in, 'sweet,' epithet applied to shakespeare, swinburne, mr. a. c., _n_ sylvester, joshua, sonnets to patrons by, and _n_ t taille, jean de la, _n_ _tamburlaine_, marlowe's, _taming of a shrew_, _taming of the shrew_: probable period of production, identical with _love's labour's won_, and _the taming of a shrew_, the story of bianca and her lovers and the _supposes_ of george gascoigne, biographical bearing of the induction, quotation from the _spanish tragedy_, _n_ _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - tarleton, richard, his 'newes out of purgatorie' and the _merry wives of windsor_, tasso, similarity of sentiment with that of shakespeare's sonnets, _n_ 'teares of fancy,' watson's, 'teares of the isle of wight,' elegies on southampton, 'teares of the muses,' spenser's, referred to in _midsummer night's dream_, _tempest_, _the_: traces of the influence of ovid, _n_ the shipwreck akin to a similar scene in _pericles_, probably the latest drama completed by the poet, and the shipwreck of sir george somers's fleet on the bermudas, the source for the plot, performed at the princess elizabeth's nuptial festivities, the date of composition, and _n_ its performance at whitehall in , _n_ its lyrics, and _n_ ben jonson's scornful allusion to, reflects the poet's highest imaginative powers, fanciful interpretations of, chief characters of, and _notes_ and . _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - temple grafton, and _n_ 'temple shakespeare, the,' tercentenary festival, the shakespeare, 'terrors of the night,' piracy of, _n_ nocturnal habits of 'familiars' described in, _n_ terry, miss ellen, theatre, the, at shoreditch, owned by james burbage, shakespeare at, between and , demolished, and the globe theatre built with the materials, theatres in london: blackfriars (_q.v._) curtain (_q.v._) duke's, fortune, _n_ globe (_q.v._) newington butts, red bull, _n_ rose (_q.v._) swan, _n_ the theatre, shoreditch (_q.v._) theobald, lewis, his emendations of _hamlet_, publishes a play alleged to be by shakespeare, his criticism of pope, his edition of the poet's works, thomas, ambroise, opera of _hamlet_ by, thoms, w. j., thornbury, g. w., thorpe, thomas, the piratical publisher of shakespeare's sonnets, - his relations with marlowe, _n_ adds 'a lover's complaint' to the collection of sonnets, his bombastic dedication to 'mr. w. h.', - the true history of 'mr. w. h.' and, (appendix v.) - _three ladies of london_, _the_, some of the scenes in the _merchant of venice_ anticipated in, thyard, ponthus de, a member of 'la pleiade' tieck, ludwig, theory respecting _the tempest_ of, tilney, edmund, master of the revels, _n_ _timon of athens_: date of composition, written in collaboration, a previous play on the same subject, its sources, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _timon_, lucian's, _titus andronicus_: one of the only two plays of the poet's performed by a company other than his own, doubts of its authenticity, internal evidence of kyd's authorship, suggested by _titus and vespasian_, played by various companies, entered on the 'stationers' register' in , _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _titus and vespasian_, _titus andronicus_ suggested by, tofte, robert, sonnets by, and _n_ topics of the day, shakespeare's treatment of, _n_, tottel's 'miscellany,' tours of english actors: in foreign countries between and , and _see_ _n_ in provincial towns, - itinerary from to , _n_ translations of the poet's works, _seq._ travel, foreign, shakespeare's ridicule of, and _n_ 'troilus and cresseid,' _troilus and cressida_: allusion to the strife between adult and boy actors, date of production, the quarto and folio editions, treatment of the theme, the endeavour to treat the play as the poet's contribution to controversy between jonson and marston and dekker, _n_ plot drawn from chaucer's 'troilus and cresseid and lydgate's 'troy book,' _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - 'troy book,' lydgate's, _true tragedie of richard iii_, _the_, an anonymous play, _true tragedie of richard_, _duke of yorke_, _and the death of good king henry the sixt_, _as it was sundrie times acted by the earl of pembroke his servants_, _the_, turbervile, george, use of the word 'sonnet' by, _n_ _twelfth night_: description of a betrothal, _n_ indebtedness to the story of 'apollonius and silla,' date of production, allusion to the 'new map,' _n_ produced at middle temple hall, manningham's description of, probable source of the story, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - twiss, f., _n_ _two gentlemen of verona_: allusion to valentine travelling from verona to milan by sea, date of production, probably an adaptation, source of the story, farcical drollery, first publication, influence of lyly, satirical allusion to sonnetteering, resemblance of it to _all's well that ends well_, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - _two noble kinsmen_, _the_: attributed to fletcher and shakespeare, and _n_ massinger's alleged share in its production, plot drawn from chaucer's 'knight's tale,' twyne, lawrence, the story of pericles in the 'patterne of painfull adventures' by, tyler, mr. thomas, on the sonnets, _n_ _n_ _n_ u ulrici, 'shakespeare's dramatic art' by, v variorum editions of shakespeare, vautrollier, thomas, the london printer, _venesyon comedy_, _the_, produced by henslowe at the rose, 'venus and adonis:' published in , dedicated to the earl of southampton, its imagery and general tone, the influence of ovid, and of lodges 'scillaes metamorphosis,' and _n_ the motto, and _n_ eulogies bestowed upon it, early editions, verdi, operas by, vere, lady elizabeth, vernon, mistress elizabeth, versification, shakespeare's, and _n_ vigny, alfred de, version of _othello_ by, villemain, recognition of the poet's greatness by, virginia company, visor, william, in _henry iv_, member of a family at woodmancote, voltaire, strictures on the poet by, voss, j. h., german translation of shakespeare by, w walden, lord, campion's sonnet to, wales, henry, prince of, the earl of nottingham's company of players taken into the patronage of, _n_ walker, william, the poet's godson, walker, w. sidney, on shakespeare's versification, _n_ walley, henry, printer, warburton, bishop, revised version of pope's edition of shakespeare by, ward, dr. a. w., ward, rev. john, on the poet's annual expenditure, on the visits of drayton and jonson to new place before the poet's death, his account of the poet, warner, richard, warner, william, the probable translator of the _menaechmi_, warren, john, warwickshire: prevalence of the surname shakespeare, a position of the arden family, queen elizabeth's progress on the way to kenilworth, watchmen in the poet's plays, watkins, richard, printer, watson, thomas, the passage on time in his 'passionate centurie of love' elaborated in 'venus and adonis,' and _n_ his sonnets, _n_ plagiarisation of petrarch, _n_ foreign origin of his sonnets, _n_ his 'tears of fancie,' _n_ 'weak endings' in shakespeare, _n_ webbe, alexander, makes john shakespeare overseer of his will, webbe, robert, buys the snitterfield property from shakespeare's mother, and _n_ webster, john, alludes in the _white divel_ to shakespeare's industry, _n_ weelkes, thomas, _n_ weever, thomas: his eulogy of the poet, _n_ allusion in his 'mirror of martyrs' to antony's speech at caesar's funeral, welcombe, enclosure of common fields at, and _n_ 'westward for smelts' and the _merry wives of windsor_, and _n_ story of ginevra in, whateley, anne, the assumed identification of her with anne hathaway, and _n_ wheler, r. b., whetstone, george, his _promos and cassandra_, white, mr. richard grant, whitehall, performances at, and _n_ _n_ wieland, christopher martin: his translation of shakespeare, wilkins, george, his collaboration with shakespeare in _timon of athens_ and _pericles_, his novel founded on the play of _pericles_, wilks, robert, actor, will, shakespeare's, - 'will' sonnets, the, elizabethan meanings of 'will,' shakespeare's uses of the word, the poet's puns on the word, play upon 'wish' and 'will,' interpretation of the word in sonnets cxxiv.-vi. and cxliii., - 'willobie his avisa,' - wilmcote, house of shakespeare's mother, bequest to mary arden of the asbies property at, mortgage of the asbies property at, and 'wincot' in _the taming of the shrew_, wilnecote. _see under_ wincot wilson, robert, author of _the three ladies of london_, wilson, thomas, his manuscript version of 'diana,' wilton, shakespeare and his company at, and _n_ 'wilton, life of jack,' by nash, and _n_ wincot (in _the taming of the shrew_), its identification, 'windsucker,' chapman's, _n_ _winter's tale_, _a_: at the globe in , acted at court, and _n_ based on greene's _pandosto_, a few lines taken from the 'decameron,' and _n_ the presentation of country life, _for_ editions _see_ section xix. (bibliography), - 'wire,' use of the word, for women's hair, and _n_ wise, j. r., wither, george, _n_ 'wittes pilgrimage,' davies's, _n_ women, excluded from elizabethan stage, and _n_ in masques at court, _n_ on the restoration stage, women, addresses to, in sonnets, - _n_ woncot in _henry iv_ identical with woodmancote, wood, anthony a, on the earl of pembroke, woodmancote. _see_ woncot worcester, earl of, his company of actors at stratford, under the patronage of queen anne of denmark, _n_ worcester, registry of the diocese of, wordsworth, bishop charles, on shakespeare and the bible, _n_ wordsworth, william, the poet, on german and french aesthetic criticism, wotton, sir henry, on the burning of the globe theatre, _n_ wright, dr. aldis, _n_ wright, john, bookseller, wriothesley, lord, wroxhall, the shakespeares of, wyatt, sir thomas, sonnetteering of, _n_ his translations of petrarch's sonnets, _n_ wyman, w. h., wyndham, mr. george, on the sonnets, _n_ _n_ on _antony and cleopatra_, _n_ on jacobean typography, _n_ y yonge, bartholomew, translation of 'diana' by, _yorkshire tragedy_, _the_, z zepheria, a collection of sonnets called, legal terminology in, _n_ the praise of daniel's 'delia' in, footnotes. {vii} arnold wrote 'spiritual,' but the change of epithet is needful to render the dictum thoroughly pertinent to the topic under consideration. {ix} i have already published portions of the papers on shakespeare's relations with the earls of pembroke and southampton in the _fortnightly review_ (for february of this year) and in the _cornhill magazine_ (for april of this year), and i have to thank the proprietors of those periodicals for permission to reproduce my material in this volume. {x} for an account of its history see p. . {xi} see pp. and . { a} camden, _remaines_, ed. , p. iii; verstegan, _restitution_, . { b} _plac. cor._ edw. i, kanc.; cf. _notes and queries_, st ser. xi. . { c} cf. the _register of the guild of st. anne at knowle_, ed. bickley, . { } see p. . { a} cf. _times_, october , ; _notes and queries_, th ser. viii. ; articles by mrs. stopes in _genealogical magazine_, . { b} cf. halliwell-phillipps, _outlines of the life of shakespeare_, , ii. . { c} the purchasing power of money was then eight times what it is now, and this and other sums mentioned should be multiplied by eight in comparing them with modern currency (see p. _n_). the letters of administration in regard to richard shakespeare's estate are in the district registry of the probate court at worcester, and were printed in full by mr. halliwell-phillipps in his _shakespeare's tours_ (privately issued ), pp. - . they do not appear in any edition of mr. halliwell-phillipps's _outlines_. certified extracts appeared in _notes and queries_, th ser. xii. - . { } french, _genealogica shakespeareana_, pp. seq.; cf. p. _infra_. { } halliwell-phillipps, ii. . { } cf. halliwell-phillipps, letter to elze, . { } cf. documents and sketches in halliwell-phillipps, i. - . { } the rev. thomas carter, in _shakespeare_, _puritan and recusant_, , has endeavoured to show that john shakespeare was a puritan in religious matters, inclining to nonconformity. he deduces this inference from the fact that, at the period of his prominent association with the municipal government of stratford, the corporation ordered images to be defaced ( - ) and ecclesiastical vestments to be sold ( ). these entries merely prove that the aldermen and councillors of stratford strictly conformed to the new religion as by law established in the first years of elizabeth's reign. nothing can be deduced from them in regard to the private religious opinions of john shakespeare. the circumstance that he was the first bailiff to encourage actors to visit stratford is, on the other hand, conclusive proof that his religion was not that of the contemporary puritan, whose hostility to all forms of dramatic representations was one of his most persistent characteristics. the elizabethan puritans, too, according to guillim's _display of heraldrie_ ( ), regarded coat-armour with abhorrence, yet john shakespeare with his son made persistent application to the college of arms for a grant of arms. (cf. _infra_, p. seq.) { a} the sum is stated to be pounds in one document (halliwell-phillipps, ii. ) and pounds in another (_ib._ p. ); the latter is more likely to be correct. { b} _ib._ ii. . { c} efforts recently made to assign the embarrassments of shakespeare's father to another john shakespeare of stratford deserve little attention. the second john shakespeare or shakspere (as his name is usually spelt) came to stratford as a young man in , and was for ten years a well-to-do shoemaker in bridge street, filling the office of master of the shoemakers' company in --a certain sign of pecuniary stability. he left stratford in (cf. halliwell-phillipps, - ). { } james russell lowell, who noticed some close parallels between expressions of shakespeare and those of the greek tragedians, hazarded the suggestion that shakespeare may have studied the ancient drama in a _grace et latine_ edition. i believe lowell's parallelisms to be no more than curious accidents--proofs of consanguinity of spirit, not of any indebtedness on shakespeare's part. in the _electra_ of sophocles, which is akin in its leading motive to _hamlet_, the chorus consoles electra for the supposed death of orestes with the same commonplace argument as that with which hamlet's mother and uncle seek to console him. in _electra_, are the lines - : [greek text] (_i.e._ 'remember, electra, your father whence you sprang is mortal. mortal, too, is orestes. wherefore grieve not overmuch, for by all of us has this debt of suffering to be paid'). in _hamlet_ (i. ii. sq.) are the familiar sentences: thou know'st 'tis common; all that live must die. but you must know, your father lost a father; that father lost, lost his . . . but to persever in obstinate condolement is a course of impious stubbornness. cf. sophocles's _oedipus coloneus_, : [greek text] ('in a just cause the weak vanquishes the strong,' jebb), and _henry vi_, iii. , 'thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just.' shakespeare's 'prophetic soul' in _hamlet_ (i. v. ) and the _sonnets_ (cvii. i) may be matched by the [greek text] of euripides's _andromache_, ; and hamlet's 'sea of troubles' (iii. i. ) by the [greek text] of aeschylus's _persae_, . among all the creations of shakespearean and greek drama, lady macbeth and aeschylus's clytemnestra, who 'in man's counsels bore no woman's heart' ([greek text], _agamemnon_, ii), most closely resemble each other. but a study of the points of resemblance attests no knowledge of aeschylus on shakespeare's part, but merely the close community of tragic genius that subsisted between the two poets. { } macray, _annals of the bodleian library_, , pp. seq. { } cf. spencer baynes, 'what shakespeare learnt at school,' in _shakespeare studies_, , pp. seq. { a} bishop charles wordsworth, in his _shakespeare's knowledge and use of the bible_ ( th edit. ), gives a long list of passages for which shakespeare may have been indebted to the bible. but the bishop's deductions as to the strength of shakespeare's piety are strained. { b} see p. _infra_. { } notes of john dowdall, a tourist in warwickshire in (published in ). { } these conclusions are drawn from an examination of like documents in the worcester diocesan registry. many formal declarations of consent on the part of parents to their children's marriages are also extant there among the sixteenth-century archives. { } _twelfth night_, act v. sc. i. ll. - : a contract of eternal bond of love, confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, attested by the holy close of lips, strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings; and all the ceremony of this compact seal'd in my [_i.e._ the priest's] function by my testimony. in _measure for measure_ claudio's offence is intimacy with the lady julia after the contract of betrothal and before the formality of marriage (cf. act i. sc. ii. l. , act iv. sc. i. l. ). { } no marriage registers of the period are extant at temple grafton to inform us whether anne whately actually married _her_ william shakespeare or who precisely the parties were. a whateley family resided in stratford, but there is nothing to show that anne of temple grafton was connected with it. the chief argument against the conclusion that the marriage license and the marriage bond concerned different couples lies in the apparent improbability that two persons, both named william shakespeare, should on two successive days not only be arranging with the bishop of worcester's official to marry, but should be involving themselves, whether on their own initiative or on that of their friends, in more elaborate and expensive forms of procedure than were habitual to the humbler ranks of contemporary society. but the worcester diocese covered a very wide area, and was honeycombed with shakespeare families of all degrees of gentility. the william shakespeare whom anne whately was licensed to marry may have been of a superior station, to which marriage by license was deemed appropriate. on the unwarranted assumption of the identity of the william shakespeare of the marriage bond with the william shakespeare of the marriage license, a romantic theory has been based to the effect that 'anne whateley of temple grafton,' believing herself to have a just claim to the poet's hand, secured the license on hearing of the proposed action of anne hathaway's friends, and hoped, by moving in the matter a day before the shottery husbandmen, to insure shakespeare's fidelity to his alleged pledges. { a} _twelfth night_, act ii. sc. iv. l. : let still the woman take an elder than herself; so wears she to him, so sways she level in her husband's heart. { b} tempest, act iv. sc. i. ll. - : if thou dost break her virgin knot before all sanctimonious ceremonies may with full and holy rite be minister'd, no sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall to make this contract grow; but barren hate, sour-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew the union of your bed with weeds so loathly that you shall hate it both. { } halliwell-phillipps, ii. - . { } cf. ellacombe, _shakespeare as an angler_, ; j. e. harting, _ornithology of shakespeare_, . the best account of shakespeare's knowledge of sport is given by the right hon. d. h. madden in his entertaining and at the same time scholarly _diary of master william silence_: _a study of shakespeare and elizabethan sport_, . { } cf. c. holte bracebridge, _shakespeare no deerstealer_, ; lockhart, _life of scott_, vii. . { } cf. w. j. thoms, _three notelets on shakespeare_, , pp. seq. { a} cf. hales, _notes on shakespeare_, , pp. - . { b} the common assumption that richard burbage, the chief actor with whom shakespeare was associated, was a native of stratford is wholly erroneous. richard was born in shoreditch, and his father came from hertfordshire. john heming, another of shakespeare's actor-friends who has also been claimed as a native of stratford, was beyond reasonable doubt born at droitwich in worcestershire. thomas greene, a popular comic actor at the red bull theatre early in the seventeenth century, is conjectured to have belonged to stratford on no grounds that deserve attention; shakespeare was in no way associated with him. { a} blades, _shakspere and typography_, . { b} cf. lord campbell, _shakespeare's legal acquirements_, . legal terminology abounded in all plays and poems of the period, e.g. barnabe barnes's _sonnets_, , and _zepheria_, (see appendix ix.) { c} commonly assigned to theophilus cibber, but written by robert shiels and other hack-writers under cibber's editorship. { a} the site of the blackfriars theatre is now occupied by the offices of the 'times' newspaper in queen victoria street, e.c. { b} cf. _exchequer lay subsidies city of london_, / , public record office; _notes and queries_, th ser. viii. . { c} shakespeare alludes to the appearance of men or boys in women's parts when he makes rosalind say laughingly to the men of the audience in the epilogue to _as you like it_, '_if i were a woman_, i would kiss as many,' etc. similarly, cleopatra on her downfall in _antony and cleopatra_, v. ii. seq., laments: the quick comedians extemporally will stage us . . . and i shall see some squeaking cleopatra boy my greatness. men taking women's parts seem to have worn masks. flute is bidden by quince play thisbe 'in a mask' in _midsummer night's dream_ (i. ii. ). in french and italian theatres of the time women seem to have acted publicly, but until the restoration public opinion in england deemed the appearance of a woman on a public stage to be an act of shamelessness on which the most disreputable of her sex would hardly venture. with a curious inconsistency ladies of rank were encouraged at queen elizabeth's court, and still more frequently at the courts of james i and charles i, to take part in private and amateur representations of masques and short dramatic pageants. during the reign of james i scenic decoration, usually designed by inigo jones, accompanied the production of masques in the royal palaces, but until the restoration the public stages were bare of any scenic contrivance except a front curtain opening in the middle and a balcony or upper platform resting on pillars at the back of the stage, from which portions of the dialogue were sometimes spoken, although occasionally the balcony seems to have been occupied by spectators (cf. a sketch made by a dutch visitor to london in of the stage of the swan theatre in _zur kenntniss der altenglischen buhne von karl theodor gaedertz_. _mit der ersten authentischen innern ansicht der schwans theater in london_, bremen, ). sir philip sidney humorously described the spectator's difficulties in an elizabethan playhouse, where, owing to the absence of stage scenery, he had to imagine the bare boards to present in rapid succession a garden, a rocky coast, a cave, and a battlefield (_apologie for poetrie_, p. ). three flourishes on a trumpet announced the beginning of the performance, but a band of fiddlers played music between the acts. the scenes of each act were played without interruption. { a} cf. halliwell-phillipps's _visits of shakespeare's company of actors to the provincial cities and towns of england_ (privately printed, ). from the information there given, occasionally supplemented from other sources, the following imperfect itinerary is deduced: . bristol and shrewsbury. . marlborough. . faversham, bath, rye, bristol, dover and marlborough. . richmond (surrey), bath, coventry, shrewsbury, mortlake, wilton house. . oxford. . barnstaple and oxford. . leicester, saffron walden, marlborough, oxford, dover and maidstone. . oxford. . coventry and marlborough. . hythe, new romney and shrewsbury. . dover, oxford and shrewsbury. . new romney. . folkestone, oxford and shrewsbury. . coventry. { b} cf. knight's _life of shakespeare_ ( ), p. ; fleay, _stage_, pp. - . { a} the favour bestowed by james vi on these english actors was so marked as to excite the resentment of the leaders of the kirk. the english agent, george nicolson, in a (hitherto unpublished) despatch dated from edinburgh on november , , wrote: 'the four sessions of this town (without touch by name of our english players, fletcher and mertyn [_i.e._ martyn], with their company), and not knowing the king's ordinances for them to play and be heard, enacted [that] their flocks [were] to forbear and not to come to or haunt profane games, sports, or plays.' thereupon the king summoned the sessions before him in council and threatened them with the full rigour of the law. obdurate at first, the ministers subsequently agreed to moderate their hostile references to the actors. finally, nicolson adds, 'the king this day by proclamation with sound of trumpet hath commanded the players liberty to play, and forbidden their hinder or impeachment therein.' _ms. state papers_, dom. scotland, p. r. o. vol. lxv. no. . { b} fleay, _stage_, pp. - . { c} cf. duncan's speech (on arriving at macbeth's castle of inverness): this castle hath a pleasant seat; the air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle senses. _banquo_. this guest of summer, the temple-haunting martlet, does approve, by his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath smells wooingly here. (_macbeth_, . vi. - ). { a} cf. cohn, _shakespeare in germany_, ; meissner, _die englischen comodianten zur zeit shakespeare's in oesterreich_, vienna, ; jon stefansson on 'shakespeare at elsinore' in _contemporary review_, january ; _notes and queries_, th ser. ix. , and xi. ; and m. jusserand's article in the _nineteenth century_, april , on english actors in france. { b} cf. _as you like it_, iv. i. - . { a} cf. elze, _essays_, , pp. seq. { b} 'quality' in elizabethan english was the technical term for the 'actor's profession.' { c} aubrey's _lives_, ed. andrew clark, ii. . { a} halliwell-phillipps, i. ; mrs. stopes in _jahrbuck der deutschen shakespeare-gesellschaft_, , xxxii. seq. { b} _scourge of folly_, , epigr. . { } one of the many crimes laid to the charge of the dramatist robert greene was that of fraudulently disposing of the same play to two companies. 'ask the queen's players,' his accuser bade him in cuthbert cony-catcher's _defence of cony-catching_, , 'if you sold them not _orlando furioso_ for twenty nobles [_i.e._ about pounds], and when they were in the country sold the same play to the lord admiral's men for as many more.' { } the playhouse authorities deprecated the publishing of plays in the belief that their dissemination in print was injurious to the receipts of the theatre. a very small proportion of plays acted in elizabeth's and james i's reign consequently reached the printing press, and most of them are now lost. but in the absence of any law of copyright publishers often defied the wishes of the owner of manuscripts. many copies of a popular play were made for the actors, and if one of these copies chanced to fall into a publisher's hands, it was habitually issued without any endeavour to obtain either author's or manager's sanction. in march the theatrical manager philip henslowe endeavoured to induce a publisher who had secured a playhouse copy of the comedy of _patient grissell_ by dekker, chettle, and haughton to abandon the publication of it by offering him a bribe of pounds. the publication was suspended till (cf. henslowe's _diary_, p. ). as late as thomas heywood wrote of 'some actors who think it against their peculiar profit to have them [_i.e._ plays] come into print.' (_english traveller_, pref.) { } w. s. walker in his _shakespeare's versification_, , and charles bathurst in his _difference in shakespeare's versification at different periods of his life_, , were the first to point out the general facts. dr. ingram's paper on 'the weak endings' in _new shakspere society's transactions_ ( ), vol. i., is of great value. mr. fleay's metrical tables, which first appeared in the same society's _transactions_ ( ), and have been reissued by dr. furnivall in a somewhat revised form in his introduction to gervinus's _commentaries_ and in his _leopold shakspere_, give all the information possible. { } the hero is the king of navarre, in whose dominions the scene is laid. the two chief lords in attendance on him in the play, biron and longaville, bear the actual names of the two most strenuous supporters of the real king of navarre (biron's later career subsequently formed the subject of two plays by chapman, _the conspiracie of duke biron_ and _the tragedy of biron_, which were both produced in ). the name of the lord dumain in _love's labour's lost_ is a common anglicised version of that duc de maine or mayenne whose name was so frequently mentioned in popular accounts of french affairs in connection with navarre's movements that shakespeare was led to number him also among his supporters. mothe or la mothe, the name of the pretty, ingenious page, was that of a french ambassador who was long popular in london; and, though he left england in , he lived in the memory of playgoers and playwrights long after _love's labour's lost_ was written. in chapman's _an humourous day's mirth_, , m. le mot, a sprightly courtier in attendance on the king of france, is drawn from the same original, and his name, as in shakespeare's play, suggests much punning on the word 'mote.' as late as middleton, in his _blurt_, _master constable_, act ii. scene ii. line , wrote: ho god! ho god! thus did i revel it when monsieur motte lay here ambassador. armado, 'the fantastical spaniard' who haunts navarre's court, and is dubbed by another courtier 'a phantasm, a monarcho,' is a caricature of a half-crazed spaniard known as 'fantastical monarcho' who for many years hung about elizabeth's court, and was under the delusion that he owned the ships arriving in the port of london. on his death thomas churchyard wrote a poem called _fantasticall monarcho's epitaph_, and mention is made of him in reginald scott's _discoverie of witchcraft_, , p. . the name armado was doubtless suggested by the expedition of . braggardino in chapman's _blind beggar of alexandria_, , is drawn on the same lines. the scene (_love's labour's lost_, v. ii. sqq.) in which the princess's lovers press their suit in the disguise of russians follows a description of the reception by ladies of elizabeth's court in of russian ambassadors who came to london to seek a wife among the ladies of the english nobility for the tsar (cf. horsey's _travels_, ed. e. a. bond, hakluyt soc.) for further indications of topics of the day treated in the play, see a new study of "love's labour's lost,"' by the present writer, in _gent. mag_, oct. ; and _transactions of the new shakspere society_, pt. iii. p. *. the attempt to detect in the schoolmaster holofernes a caricature of the italian teacher and lexicographer, john florio, seems unjustified (see p. n). { } cf. fleay, _life_, pp. seq. { a} the story, which has been traced back to the greek romance _anthia and abrocomas_ by xenophon ephesius, a writer of the second century, seems to have been first told in modern europe about by masuccio in his _novellino_ (no. xxxiii.: cf. mr. waters's translation, ii. - ). it was adapted from masuccio by luigi da porto in his novel, _la giulietta_, , and by bandello in his _novelle_, , pt. ii., no. ix. bandello's version became classical; it was translated in the _histoires tragiques_ of francoisde belleforest (paris, ) by pierre boaistuau de launay, an occasional collaborator with belleforest. at the same time as shakespeare was writing _romeo and juliet_, lope de vega was dramatising the tale in his spanish play called _castelvines y monteses_ (_i.e._ capulets and montagus). for an analysis of lope's play, which ends happily, see _variorum shakespeare_, , xxi. - . { b} cf. _originals and analogues_, pt. i. ed. p. a. daniel, new shakspere society. { } cf. _parallel texts_, ed. p. a. daniel, new shakspere society; fleay, _life_, pp. seq. { } cf. fleay, _life_, pp. seq.; _trans. new shakspere soc_., , pt. ii. by miss jane lee; swinburne, _study_, pp. seq. { } in later life shakespeare, in _hamlet_, borrows from lyly's _euphues_ polonius's advice to laertes; but, however he may have regarded the moral sentiment of that didactic romance, he had no respect for the affectations of its prose style, which he ridiculed in a familiar passage in i _henry iv_, ii. iv. : 'for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.' { } henslowe, p. . { a} cf. cohn, _shakespeare in germany_, pp. et seq. { b} arber, ii. . { c} cf. w. g. waters's translation of _il pecorone_, pp. - (fourth day, novel ). the collection was not published till , and the story followed by shakespeare was not accessible in his day in any language but the original italian. { } lopez was the earl of leicester's physician before , and the queen's chief physician from that date. an accomplished linguist, with friends in all parts of europe, he acted in , at the request of the earl of essex, as interpreter to antonio perez, a victim of philip ii's persecution, whom essex and his associates brought to england in order to stimulate the hostility of the english public to spain. don antonio (as the refugee was popularly called) proved querulous and exacting. a quarrel between lopez and essex followed. spanish agents in london offered lopez a bribe to poison antonio and the queen. the evidence that he assented to the murderous proposal is incomplete, but he was convicted of treason, and, although the queen long delayed signing his death-warrant, he was hanged at tyburn on june , . his trial and execution evoked a marked display of anti-semitism on the part of the london populace. very few jews were domiciled in england at the time. that a christian named antonio should be the cause of the ruin alike of the greatest jew in elizabethan england and of the greatest jew of the elizabethan drama is a curious confirmation of the theory that lopez was the begetter of shylock. cf. the article on roderigo lopez in the _dictionary of national biography_; 'the original of shylock,' by the present writer, in _gent. mag._ february ; dr. h. graetz, _shylock in den sagen_, _in den dramen and in der geschichte_, krotoschin, ; _new shakspere soc. trans._ - , pt. ii. pp. - ; 'the conspiracy of dr. lopez,' by the rev. arthur dimock, in _english historical review_ ( ), ix. seq. { } _gesta grayorum_, printed in from a contemporary manuscript. a second performance of the _comedy of errors_ was given at gray's inn hall by the elizabethan stage society on dec. , . { a} cf. swinburne, _study of shakspere_, pp. - . { b} see p. . { } cf. dodsley's _old plays_, ed. w. c. hazlitt, , vii. - . { } see appendix, sections iii. and iv. { a} see ovid's _amores_, liber i. elegy xv. ll. - . ovid's _amores_, or elegies of love, were translated by marlowe about , and were first printed without a date on the title-page, probably about . marlowe's version had probably been accessible in manuscript in the eight years' interval. marlowe rendered the lines quoted by shakespeare thus: let base conceited wits admire vile things, fair phoebus lead me to the muses' springs! { b} _shakespeare's venus and adonis and lodge's scillaes metamorphosis_, by james p. reardon, in 'shakespeare society's papers,' iii. - . cf. lodge's description of venus's discovery of the wounded adonis: her daintie hand addrest to dawe her deere, her roseall lip alied to his pale cheeke, her sighs and then her lookes and heavie cheere, her bitter threates, and then her passions meeke; how on his senseles corpse she lay a-crying, as if the boy were then but new a-dying. in the minute description in shakespeare's poem of the chase of the hare (ll. - ) there are curious resemblances to the _ode de la chasse_ (on a stag hunt) by the french dramatist, estienne jodelle, in his _oeuvres et meslanges poetiques_, . { a} rosamond, in daniel's poem, muses thus when king henry challenges her honour: but what? he is my king and may constraine me; whether i yeeld or not, i live defamed. the world will thinke authoritie did gaine me, i shall be judg'd his love and so be shamed; we see the faire condemn'd that never gamed, and if i yeeld, 'tis honourable shame. if not, i live disgrac'd, yet thought the same. { b} watson makes this comment on his poem or passion on time, (no. lxxvii.): 'the chiefe contentes of this passion are taken out of seraphine [_i.e._ serafino], sonnet : col tempo passa[n] gli anni, i mesi, e l'hore, col tempo le richeze, imperio, e regno, col tempo fama, honor, fortezza, e ingegno, col tempo giouentu, con belta more, &c.' watson adds that he has inverted serafino's order for 'rimes sake,' or 'upon some other more allowable consideration.' shakespeare was also doubtless acquainted with giles fletcher's similar handling of the theme in sonnet xxviii. of his collection of sonnets called _licia_ ( ). { } 'excellencie of the english tongue' in camden's _remaines_, p. . { } all these and all that els the comick stage with seasoned wit and goodly pleasance graced, by which mans life in his likest image was limned forth, are wholly now defaced . . . and he, the man whom nature selfe had made to mock her selfe and truth to imitate, with kindly counter under mimick shade, our pleasant willy, ah! is dead of late; with whom all joy and jolly meriment is also deaded and in dolour drent.--(ll. - ). { a} a note to this effect, in a genuine early seventeenth-century hand, was discovered by halliwell-phillipps in a copy of the edition of spenser's _works_ (cf. _outlines_, ii. - ). { b} but that same gentle spirit, from whose pen large streames of bonnie and sweete nectar flowe, scorning the boldnes of such base-borne men which dare their follies forth so rashlie throwe, doth rather choose to sit in idle cell than so himselfe to mockerie to sell (ll. - ). { } section ix. of the appendix to this volume gives a sketch of each of the numerous collections of sonnets which bore witness to the unexampled vogue of the elizabethan sonnet between and . { } minto, _characteristics of english poetry_, , pp. , . the sonnet, headed 'phaeton to his friend florio,' runs: sweet friend whose name agrees with thy increase how fit arrival art thou of the spring! for when each branch hath left his flourishing, and green-locked summer's shady pleasures cease: she makes the winter's storms repose in peace, and spends her franchise on each living thing: the daisies sprout, the little birds do sing, herbs, gums, and plants do vaunt of their release. so when that all our english wits lay dead, (except the laurel that is ever green) thou with thy fruit our barrenness o'erspread, and set thy flowery pleasance to be seen. such fruits, such flow'rets of morality, were ne'er before brought out of italy. cf. shakespeare's sonnet xcviii. beginning: when proud-pied april, dress'd in all his trim, hath put a spirit of youth in everything. but like descriptions of spring and summer formed a topic that was common to all the sonnets of the period. much has been written of shakespeare's alleged acquaintance with florio. farmer and warburton argue that shakespeare ridiculed florio in holofernes in _love's labour's lost_. they chiefly rely on florio's bombastic prefaces to his _worlde of wordes_ and his translation of montaigne's _essays_ ( ). there is nothing there to justify the suggestion. florio writes more in the vein of armado than of holofernes, and, beyond the fact that he was a teacher of languages to noblemen, he bears no resemblance to holofernes, a village schoolmaster. shakespeare doubtless knew florio as southampton's _protege_, and read his fine translation of montaigne's _essays_ with delight. he quotes from it in _the tempest_: see p. . { } shakespeare writes in his sonnets: my glass shall not persuade me i am old (xxii. .). but when my glass shows me myself indeed, beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity (lxii. - ). that time of year thou mayst in me behold when yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang (lxxiii. - ). my days are past the best (cxxxviii. ). daniel in _delia_ (xxiii.) in , when twenty-nine years old, exclaimed: my years draw on my everlasting night, . . . my days are done. richard barnfield, at the age of twenty, bade the boy ganymede, to whom he addressed his _affectionate shepherd_ and a sequence of sonnets in (ed. arber, p. ): behold my gray head, full of silver hairs, my wrinkled skin, deep furrows in my face. similarly drayton in a sonnet (_idea_, xiv.) published in , when he was barely thirty-one, wrote: looking into the glass of my youth's miseries, i see the ugly face of my deformed cares with withered brows all wrinkled with despairs; and a little later (no. xliii. of the edition) he repeated how age rules my lines with wrinkles in my face. all these lines are echoes of petrarch, and shakespeare and drayton followed the italian master's words more closely than their contemporaries. cf. petrarch's sonnet cxliii. (to laura alive), or sonnet lxxxi. (to laura after death); the latter begins: dicemi spesso il mio fidato speglio, l'animo stanco e la cangiata scorza e la scemata mia destrezza e forza: non ti nasconder piu: tu se' pur veglio. (_i.e._ 'my faithful glass, my weary spirit and my wrinkled skin, and my decaying wit and strength repeatedly tell me: "it cannot longer be hidden from you, you are old."') { } the sonnets of sidney, watson, daniel, and constable long circulated in manuscript, and suffered much the same fate as shakespeare's at the hands of piratical publishers. after circulating many years in manuscript, sidney's sonnets were published in by an irresponsible trader, thomas newman, who in his self-advertising dedication wrote of the collection that it had been widely 'spread abroad in written copies,' and had 'gathered much corruption by ill writers' [i.e. copyists]. constable produced in a collection of twenty sonnets in a volume which he entitled 'diana.' this was an authorised publication. but in a printer and a publisher, without constable's knowledge or sanction, reprinted these sonnets and scattered them through a volume of nearly eighty miscellaneous sonnets by sidney and many other hands; the adventurous publishers bestowed on their medley the title of 'diana,' which constable had distinctively attached to his own collection. daniel suffered in much the same way. see appendix ix. for further notes on the subject. proofs of the commonness of the habit of circulating literature in manuscript abound. fulke greville, writing to sidney's father-in-law, sir francis walsingham, in , expressed regret that uncorrected manuscript copies of the then unprinted _arcadia_ were 'so common.' in gabriel cawood, the publisher of robert southwell's _mary magdalen's funeral tears_, wrote that manuscript copies of the work had long flown about 'fast and false.' nash, in the preface to his _terrors of the night_, , described how a copy of that essay, which a friend had 'wrested' from him, had 'progressed [without his authority] from one scrivener's shop to another, and at length grew so common that it was ready to be hung out for one of their figures [_i.e._ shop-signs], like a pair of indentures.' { a} cf. sonnet lxix. : to thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds. { b} for other instances of the application of this epithet to shakespeare's work, see p. , note . { } the actor alleyn paid fivepence for a copy in that month (cf. warner's _dulwich mss._ p. ). { } the chief editions of the sonnets that have appeared, with critical apparatus, of late years are those of professor dowden ( , reissued ), mr. thomas tyler ( ), and mr. george wyndham, m.p. ( ). mr. gerald massey's _secret drama of shakespeare's sonnets_--the text of the poems with a full discussion--appeared in a second revised edition in . i regret to find myself in more or less complete disagreement with all these writers, although i am at one with mr. massey in identifying the young man to whom many of the sonnets were addressed with the earl of southampton. a short bibliography of the works advocating the theory that the sonnets were addressed to william, third earl of pembroke, is given in appendix vi., 'mr. william herbert,' note . { } it has been wrongly inferred that shakespeare asserts in sonnets cxxxv-vi. and cxliii. that the young friend to whom he addressed some of the sonnets bore his own christian name of will (see for a full examination of these sonnets appendix viii.) further, it has been fantastically suggested that the line (xx. ) describing the youth as 'a man in hue, all hues in his controlling' (_i.e._ a man in colour or complexion whose charms are so varied as to appear to give his countenance control of, or enable it to assume, all manner of fascinating hues or complexions), and other applications to the youth of the ordinary word 'hue,' imply that his surname was hughes. there is no other pretence of argument for the conclusion, which a few critics have hazarded in all seriousness, that the friend's name was william hughes. there was a contemporary musician called william hughes, but no known contemporary of the name, either in age or position in life, bears any resemblance to the young man who is addressed by shakespeare in his sonnets. { } see appendix vi., 'mr. william herbert;' and vii., 'shakespeare and the earl of pembroke.' { a} the full results of my researches into thorpe's history, his methods of business, and the significance of his dedicatory addresses, of which four are extant besides that prefixed to the volume of shakespeare's sonnets in , are given in appendix v., 'the true history of thomas thorpe and "mr. w. h."' { b} the form of fourteen-line stanza adopted by shakespeare is in no way peculiar to himself. it is the type recognised by elizabethan writers on metre as correct and customary in england long before he wrote. george gascoigne, in his _certayne notes of instruction concerning the making of verse or ryme in english_ (published in gascoigne's _posies_, ), defined sonnets thus: 'fouretene lynes, every lyne conteyning tenne syllables. the first twelve to ryme in staves of foure lynes by cross metre and the last two ryming togither, do conclude the whole.' in twenty-one of the sonnets of which sidney's collection entitled _astrophel and stella_ consists, the rhymes are on the foreign model and the final couplet is avoided. but these are exceptional. as is not uncommon in elizabethan sonnet-collections, one of shakespeare's sonnets (xcix.) has fifteen lines; another (cxxvi.) has only twelve lines, and those in rhymed couplets (cf. lodge's _phillis_, nos. viii. and xxvi.) and a third (cxlv.) is in octosyllabics. but it is very doubtful whether the second and third of these sonnets rightly belong to shakespeare's collection. they were probably written as independent lyrics: see p. , note . { } if the critical ingenuity which has detected a continuous thread of narrative in the order that thorpe printed shakespeare's sonnets were applied to the booksellers' miscellany of sonnets called _diana_ ( ), that volume, which rakes together sonnets on all kinds of amorous subjects from all quarters and numbers them consecutively, could be made to reveal the sequence of an individual lover's moods quite as readily, and, if no external evidence were admitted, quite as convincingly, as thorpe's collection of shakespeare's sonnets. almost all elizabethan sonnets are not merely in the like metre, but are pitched in what sounds superficially to be the same key of pleading or yearning. thus almost every collection gives at a first perusal a specious and delusive impression of homogeneity. { } shakespeare merely warns his 'lovely boy' that, though he be now the 'minion' of nature's 'pleasure,' he will not succeed in defying time's inexorable law. sidney addresses in a lighter vein cupid--'blind hitting boy,' he calls him--in his _astrophel_ (no. xlvi.) cupid is similarly invoked in three of drayton's sonnets (no. xxvi. in the edition of , and nos. xxxiii. and xxxiv. in that of ), and in six in fulke greville's collection entitled _coelica_ (cf. lxxxiv., beginning 'farewell, sweet boy, complain not of my truth'). lyly, in his _sapho and phao_, , and in his _mother bombie_, , has songs of like temper addressed in the one case to 'o cruel love!' and in the other to 'o cupid! monarch over kings.' a similar theme to that of shakespeare's sonnet cxxvi. is treated by john ford in the song, 'love is ever dying,' in his tragedy of the _broken heart_, . { } see p. , note . { a} - . cf. de brach, _oeuvres poetiques_, edited by reinhold dezeimeris, , i. pp. - . { b} see appendix ix. { c} section x. of the appendix to this volume supplies a bibliographical note on the sonnet in france between and , with a list of the sixteenth-century sonnetteers of italy. { d} gabriel harvey, in his _pierces supererogation_ ( , p. ), after enthusiastic commendation of petrarch's sonnets ('petrarch's invention is pure love itself; petrarch's elocution pure beauty itself'), justifies the common english practice of imitating them on the ground that 'all the noblest italian, french, and spanish poets have in their several veins petrarchized; and it is no dishonour for the daintiest or divinest muse to be his scholar, whom the amiablest invention and beautifullest elocution acknowledge their master.' both french and english sonnetteers habitually admit that they are open to the charge of plagiarising petrarch's sonnets to laura (cf. du bellay's _les amours_, ed. becq de fouquieres, , p. , and daniel's _delia_, sonnet xxxviii.) the dependent relations in which both english and french sonnetteers stood to petrarch may be best realised by comparing such a popular sonnet of the italian master as no. ciii. (or in some editions lxxxviii.) in _sonetti in vita di m. laura_, beginning 's' amor non e, che dunque e quel ch' i' sento?' with a rendering of it into french like that of de baif in his _amours de francine_ (ed. becq de fouquieres, p. ), beginning, 'si ce n'est pas amour, que sent donques mon coeur?' or with a rendering of the same sonnet into english like that by watson in his _passionate century_, no. v., beginning, 'if 't bee not love i feele, what is it then?' imitation of petrarch is a constant characteristic of the english sonnet throughout the sixteenth century from the date of the earliest efforts of surrey and wyatt. it is interesting to compare the skill of the early and late sonnetteers in rendering the italian master. petrarch's sonnet _in vita di m. laura_ (no. lxxx. or lxxxi., beginning 'cesare, poi che 'l traditor d' egitto') was independently translated both by sir thomas wyatt, about (ed. bell, p. ), and by francis davison in his _poetical rhapsody_ ( , ed. bullen, i. ). petrarch's sonnet (no. xcv. or cxiii.) was also rendered independently both by wyatt (cf. puttenham's _arte of english poesie_, ed. arber, p. ) and by drummond of hawthornden (ed. ward, i. , ). { a} eight of watson's sonnets are, according to his own account, renderings from petrarch; twelve are from serafino dell' aquila ( - ); four each come from strozza, an italian poet, and from ronsard; three from the italian poet agnolo firenzuola ( - ); two each from the french poet, etienne forcadel, known as forcatulus ( ?- ), the italian girolamo parabosco (_fl._ ), and aeneas sylvius; while many are based on passages from such authors as (among the greeks) sophocles, theocritus, apollonius of rhodes (author of the epic 'argonautica'); or (among the latins) virgil, tibullus, ovid, horace, propertius, seneca, pliny, lucan, martial, and valerius flaccus; or (among other modern italians) angelo poliziano ( - ) and baptista mantuanus ( - ); or (among other modern frenchmen) gervasius sepinus of saumur, writer of eclogues after the manner of virgil and mantuanus. { b} no importance can be attached to drayton's pretensions to greater originality than his neighbours. the very line in which he makes the claim ('i am no pick-purse of another's wit') is a verbatim theft from a sonnet of sir philip sidney. { c} lodge's _margarite_, p. . see appendix ix. for the text of desportes's sonnet (_diane_, livre ii. no. iii.) and lodge's translation in _phillis_. lodge gave two other translations of the same sonnet of desportes--in his romance of _rosalind_ (hunterian society's reprint, p. ), and in his volume of poems called _scillaes metamorphosis_ (p. ). sonnet xxxiii. of lodge's _phillis_ is rendered with equal literalness from ronsard. but desportes was lodge's special master, { a} see drummond's _poems_, ed. w. c. ward, in muses' library, , i. seq. { b} seve's _delie_ was first published at lyons in . { c} - . { } in two of his century of sonnets (nos. xiii. and xxiv. in edition, renumbered xxxii. and liii. in edition) drayton hints that his 'fair idea' embodied traits of an identifiable lady of his acquaintance, and he repeats the hint in two other short poems; but the fundamental principles of his sonnetteering exploits are defined explicitly in sonnet xviii. in edition. some, when in rhyme, they of their loves do tell, . . . only i call [_i.e._ i call only] on my divine idea. joachim du bellay, one of the french poets who anticipated drayton in addressing sonnets to 'l'idee,' left the reader in no doubt of his intent by concluding one poem thus: la, o mon ame, au plus hault ciel guidee, tu y pourras recognoistre l'idee de la beaute qu'en ce monde j'adore. (du bellay's _olive_, no. cxiii., published in .) { a} ben jonson pointedly noticed the artifice inherent in the metrical principles of the sonnet when he told drummond of hawthornden that 'he cursed petrarch for redacting verses to sonnets which he said were like that tyrant's bed, where some who were too short were racked, others too long cut short.' (jonson's _conversation_, p. ). { b} see p. _infra_. { a} they were first printed by dr. grosart for the chetham society in in his edition of 'the dr. farmer ms.,' a sixteenth and seventeenth century commonplace book preserved in the chetham library at manchester, pt. i. pp. - . dr. grosart also included the poems in his edition of sir john davies's _works_, , ii. - . { b} davies's sonnet viii. is printed in appendix ix. { c} see p. _infra_. { } _romeo and juliet_, ii. iv. - . { } mr. fleay in his _biographical chronicle of the english stage_, ii. seq., gives a striking list of parallels between shakespeare's and drayton's sonnets which any reader of the two collections in conjunction could easily increase. mr. wyndham in his valuable edition of shakespeare's _sonnets_, p. , argues that drayton was the plagiarist of shakespeare, chiefly on bibliographical grounds, which he does not state quite accurately. one hundred sonnets belonging to drayton's _idea_ series are extant, but they were not all published by him at one time. fifty-three were alone included in his first and only separate edition of ; six more appeared in a reprint of _idea_ appended to the _heroical epistles_ in ; twenty-four of these were gradually dropped and thirty-four new ones substituted in reissues appended to volumes of his writings issued respectively in , , , and . to the collection thus re-formed a further addition of twelve sonnets and a withdrawal of some twelve old sonnets were made in the final edition of drayton's works in . there the sonnets number sixty-three. mr. wyndham insists that drayton's latest published sonnets have alone an obvious resemblance to shakespeare's sonnets, and that they all more or less reflect shakespeare's sonnets as printed by thorpe in . but the whole of drayton's century of sonnets except twelve were in print long before , and it could easily be shown that the earliest fifty-three published in supply as close parallels with shakespeare's sonnets as any of the forty-seven published subsequently. internal evidence suggests that all but one or two of drayton's sonnets were written by him in , in the full tide of the sonnetteering craze. almost all were doubtless in circulation in manuscript then, although only fifty-three were published in . shakespeare would have had ready means of access to drayton's manuscript collection. mr. collier reprinted all the sonnets that drayton published between and in his edition of drayton's poems for the roxburghe club, . other editions of drayton's sonnets of this and the last century reprint exclusively the collection of sixty-three appended to the edition of his works in . { } almost all sixteenth-century sonnets on spring in the absence of the poet's love (cf. shakespeare's sonnets xcviii., xcix.) are variations on the sentiment and phraseology of petrarch's well-known sonnet xlii., 'in morte di m. laura,' beginning: zefiro torna e 'l bel tempo rimena, e i fiori e l'erbe, sua dolce famiglia, e garrir progne e pianger filomena, e primavera candida e vermiglia. ridono i prati, e 'l ciel si rasserena; giove s'allegra di mirar sua figlia; l'aria e l'acqua e la terra e d'amor piena; ogni animal d'amar si riconsiglia, ma per me, lasso, tornano i piu gravi sospiri, che del cor profondo tragge, &c. see a translation by william drummond of hawthornden in sonnets, pt. ii. no. ix. similar sonnets and odes on april, spring, and summer abound in french and english (cf. becq de fouquiere's _oeuvres choisies de j.-a. de baif_, passim, and _oeuvres choisies des contemporains de ronsard_, p. (by remy belleau), p. (by amadis jamyn) et passim). for descriptions of night and sleep see especially ronsard's _amours_ (livre i. clxxxvi., livre ii. xxii.; _odes_, livre iv. no. iv., and his _odes retranchees_ in _oeuvres_, edited by blanchemain, ii. - .) cf. barnes's _parthenophe and parthenophil_, lxxxiii. cv. { a} cf. ronsard's _amours_, livre iv. clxxviii.; _amours pour astree_, vi. the latter opens: il ne falloit, maistresse, autres tablettes pour vous graver que celles de mon coeur ou de sa main amour, nostre vainqueur, vous a gravee et vos graces parfaites. { b} cf. spenser, lv.; barnes's _parthenophe and parthenophil_, no. lxxvii.; fulke greville's _coelica_, no. vii. { a} a similar conceit is the topic of shakespeare's sonnet xxiv. ronsard's ode (livre iv. no. xx.) consists of a like dialogue between the heart and the eye. the conceit is traceable to petrarch, whose sonnet lv. or lxiii. ('occhi, piangete, accompagnate il core') is a dialogue between the poet and his eyes, while his sonnet xcix. or cxvii. is a companion dialogue between the poet and his heart. cf. watson's _tears of fancie_, xix. xx. (a pair of sonnets on the theme which closely resemble shakespeare's pair); drayton's _idea_, xxxiii.; barnes's _parthenophe and parthenophil_, xx., and constable's _diana_, vi. . { b} the greek epigram is in _palatine anthology_, ix. , and is translated into latin in _selecta epigrammata_, basel, . the greek lines relate, as in shakespeare's sonnets, how a nymph who sought to quench love's torch in a fountain only succeeded in heating the water. an added detail shakespeare borrowed from a very recent adaptation of the epigram in giles fletcher's _licia_, (sonnet xxvii.), where the poet's love bathes in the fountain, with the result not only that 'she touched the water and it burnt with love,' but also now by her means it purchased hath that bliss which all diseases quickly can remove. similarly shakespeare in sonnet cliv. not merely states that the 'cool well' into which cupid's torch had fallen 'from love's fire took heat perpetual,' but also that it grew 'a bath and healthful remedy for men diseased.' { a} in greek poetry the topic is treated in pindar's _olympic odes_, xi., and in a fragment by sappho, no. in bergk's _poetae lyrici graeci_. in latin poetry the topic is treated in ennius as quoted in cicero, _de senectute_, c. ; in horace's _odes_, iii. ; in virgil's _georgics_, iii. ; in propertius, iii. ; in ovid's _metamorphoses_, xv. seq.; and in martial, x. seq. among french sonnetteers ronsard attacked the theme most boldly. his odes and sonnets promise immortality to the persons to whom they are addressed with an extravagant and a monotonous liberality. the following lines from ronsard's ode (livre i. no. vii.) 'au seigneur carnavalet,' illustrate his habitual treatment of the theme:-- c'est un travail de bon-heur chanter les hommes louables, et leur bastir un honneur seul vainqueur des ans muables. le marbre ou l'airain vestu d'un labeur vif par l'enclume n'animent tant la vertu que les muses par la plume. . . les neuf divines pucelles gardent ta gloire chez elles; et mon luth, qu'ell'ont fait estre de leurs secrets le grand prestre, par cest hymne solennel respandra dessus ta race je ne scay quoy de sa grace qui te doit faire eternel. (_oeuvres de ronsard_, ed. blanchemain, ii. , .) i quote two other instances from ronsard on p. , note . desportes was also prone to indulge in the same conceit; cf. his _cleonice_, sonnet , which daniel appropriated bodily in his _delia_ sonnet xxvi.) desportes warns his mistress that she will live in his verse like the phoenix in fire. { b} ed. shuckburgh, p. . { c} shakespeare soc. p. { } other references to the topic appear in sonnets xix., liv., lxiii., lxv., lxxxi. and cvii. { } see the quotation from ronsard on p. , note . this sonnet is also very like ronsard's ode (livre v. no. xxxii.) 'a sa muse,' which opens: plus dur que fer j'ay fini mon ouvrage, que 'an, dispos a demener les pas, que l'eau, le vent ou le brulant orage, l'injuriant, ne ru'ront point a bas. quand ce viendra que le dernier trespas m'assoupira d'un somme dur, a l'heure, sous le tombeau tout ronsard n'ira pas, restant de luy la part meilleure. . . sus donque, muse, emporte au ciel la gloire que j'ay gaignee, annoncant la victoire dont a bon droit je me voy jouissant. . . cf. also ronsard's sonnet lxxii. in _amours_ (livre i.), where he declares that his mistress's name victorieux des peuples et des rois s'en voleroit sus l'aile de ma ryme. but shakespeare, like ronsard, knew horace's far-famed ode (bk. iii. ) exegi monumentum aere perennius regalique situ pyramidum altius, quod non imber edax, non aquilo impotens possit diruere, aut innumerabilis annorum series, et fuga temporum. nor can there be any doubt that shakespeare wrote with a direct reference to the concluding nine lines of ovid's _metamorphoses_ (xv. - ): jamque opus exegi, quod nec jovis ira nec ignes, nec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetustas. cum volet illa dies, quae nil nisi corporis hujus jus habet, incerti spatium mihi finiat aevi; parte tamen meliore mei super alta perennis astra ferar nomenque erit indelebile nostrum. this passage was familiar to shakespeare in one of his favourite books--golding's translation of the _metamorphoses_. golding's rendering opens: now have i brought a worke to end which neither jove's fierce wrath nor sword nor fire nor fretting age, with all the force it hath are able to abolish quite, &c. meres, after his mention of shakespeare's sonnets in his _palladis tamia_ ( ), quotes parts of both passages from horace and ovid, and gives a latin paraphrase of his own, which, he says, would fit the lips of our contemporary poets besides shakespeare. the introduction of the name mars into meres's paraphrase as well as into line of shakespeare's sonnet lv. led mr. tyler (on what are in any case very trivial grounds) to the assumption that shakespeare was borrowing from his admiring critic, and was therefore writing after , when meres's book was published. in golding's translation reference is made to mars by name (the latin here calls the god gradivus) a few lines above the passage already quoted, and the word caught shakespeare's eye there. shakespeare owed nothing to meres's paraphrase, but meres probably owed much to passages in shakespeare's sonnets. { a} see appendix viii., 'the will sonnets,' for the interpretation of shakespeare's conceit and like efforts of barnes. { b} wires in the sense of hair was peculiarly distinctive of the sonnetteers' affected vocabulary. cf. daniel's _delia_, , no. xxvi., 'and golden hair may change to silver _wire_;' lodge's _phillis_, , 'made blush the beauties of her curled _wire_;' barnes's _parthenophil_, sonnet xlviii., 'her hairs no grace of golden _wires_ want.' the comparison of lips with coral is not uncommon outside the elizabethan sonnet, but it was universal there. cf. 'coral-coloured lips' (_zepheria_, , no. xxiii.); 'no coral is her lip' (lodge's _phillis_, , no. viii.) 'ce beau coral' are the opening words of ronsard's _amours_, livre i. no. xxiii., where a list is given of stones and metals comparable with women's features. { a} shakespeare adopted this phraseology of sidney literally in both the play and the sonnet; while sidney's further conceit that the lady's eyes are in 'this mourning weed' in order 'to honour all their deaths who for her bleed' is reproduced in shakespeare's sonnet cxxxii.--one of the two under consideration--where he tells his mistress that her eyes 'have put on black' to become 'loving mourners' of him who is denied her love. { b} o paradox! black is the badge of hell, the hue of dungeons and the scowl of night. (_love's labour's lost_, iv. iii. - ). to look like her are chimney-sweepers black, and since her time are colliers counted bright, and ethiops of their sweet complexion crack. dark needs no candle now, for dark is light (_ib._ - ). { } the parody, which is not in sonnet form, is printed in harvey's _letter-book_ (camden soc. pp. - ). { } no. vii. of jodelle's _contr' amours_ runs thus: combien de fois mes vers ont-ils dore ces cheueux noirs dignes d'vne meduse? combien de fois ce teint noir qui m'amuse, ay-ie de lis et roses colore? combien ce front de rides laboure ay-ie applani? et quel a fait ma muse le gros sourcil, ou folle elle s'abuse, ayant sur luy l'arc d'amour figure? quel ay-ie fait son oeil se renfoncant? quel ay-ie fait son grand nez rougissant? quelle sa bouche et ses noires dents quelles quel ay-ie fait le reste de ce corps? qui, me sentant endurer mille morts, viuoit heureux de mes peines mortelles. (jodelle's _oeuvres_, , pp. - .) with this should be compared shakespeare's sonnets cxxxvii., cxlviii., and cl. jodelle's feigned remorse for having lauded the _black_ hair and complexion of his mistress is one of the most singular of several strange coincidences. in no. vi. of his _contr' amours_ jodelle, after reproaching his 'traitres vers' with having untruthfully described his siren as a beauty, concludes: 'ja si long temps faisant d'un diable vn ange vous m'ouurez l'oeil en l'iniuste louange, et m'aueuglez en l'iniuste tourment. with this should be compared shakespeare's sonnet cxliv., lines - . and whether that my angel be turn'd fiend suspect i may, yet not directly tell. a conventional sonnet or extravagant vituperation, which drummond of hawthornden translated from marino (_rime_, , pt. i. p. ), is introduced with grotesque inappropriateness into drummond's collection of 'sugared' sonnets (see pt. i. no. xxxv: drummond's _poems_, ed. w. c. ward, i. , ). { } the theories that all the sonnets addressed to a woman were addressed to the 'dark lady,' and that the 'dark lady' is identifiable with mary fitton, a mistress of the earl of pembroke, are baseless conjectures. the extant portraits of mary fitton prove her to be fair. the introduction of her name into the discussion is solely due to the mistaken notion that shakespeare was the _protege_ of pembroke, that most of the sonnets were addressed to him, and that the poet was probably acquainted with his patron's mistress. see appendix vii. the expressions in two of the vituperative sonnets to the effect that the disdainful mistress had 'robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents' (cxlii. ) and 'in act her bed-vow broke' (clii. ) have been held to imply that the woman denounced by shakespeare was married. the first quotation can only mean that she was unfaithful with married men, but both quotations seem to be general phrases of abuse, the meaning of which should not be pressed closely. { } 'lover' and 'love' in elizabethan english were ordinary synonyms for 'friend' and 'friendship.' brutus opens his address to the citizens of rome with the words, 'romans, countrymen, and _lovers_,' and subsequently describes julius caesar as 'my best _lover_' (_julius caesar_, iii. ii. - ). portia, when referring to antonio, the bosom friend of her husband bassanio, calls him 'the bosom _lover_ of my lord' (_merchant of venice_, iii. iv. ). ben jonson in his letters to donne commonly described himself as his correspondent's 'ever true _lover_;' and drayton, writing to william drummond of hawthornden, informed him that an admirer of his literary work was in love with him. the word 'love' was habitually applied to the sentiment subsisting between an author and his patron. nash, when dedicating _jack wilton_ in to southampton, calls him 'a dear _lover_ . . . of the _lovers_ of poets as of the poets themselves.' { } there is little doubt that this sonnet was parodied by sir john davies in the ninth and last of his 'gulling' sonnets, in which he ridicules the notion that a man of wit should put his wit in vassalage to any one. to love my lord i do knight's service owe, and therefore now he hath my wit in ward; but while it [_i.e._ the poet's wit] is in his tuition so methinks he doth intreat [_i.e._ treat] it passing hard . . . but why should love after minority (when i have passed the one and twentieth year) preclude my wit of his sweet liberty, and make it still the yoke of wardship bear? i fear he [_i.e._ my lord] hath another title [_i.e._ right to my wit] got and holds my wit now for an idiot. { } mr. tyler assigns this sonnet to the year or later, on the fallacious ground that this line was probably imitated from an expression in marston's _pigmalion's image_, published in , where 'stanzas' are said to 'march rich bedight in warlike equipage.' the suggestion of plagiarism is quite gratuitous. the phrase was common in elizabethan literature long before marston employed it. nash, in his preface to green's _menaphon_, which was published in , wrote that the works of the poet watson 'march in equipage of honour with any of your ancient poets.' { a} see appendix iv. for a full account of southampton's relations with nash and other men of letters. { b} see p. , note. { a} cf. _parthenophil_, madrigal i. line ; sonnet xvii. line . { b} _parthenophil_, sonnet xci. { } much irrelevance has been introduced into the discussion of chapman's claim to be the rival poet. prof. minto in his _characteristics of english poets_, p. , argued that chapman was the man mainly because shakespeare declared his competitor to be taught to write by 'spirits'--'his compeers by night'--as well as by 'an affable familiar ghost' which gulled him with intelligence at night (lxxxvi. seq.) professor minto saw in these phrases allusions to some remarks by chapman in his _shadows of night_ ( ), a poem on night. there chapman warned authors in one passage that the spirit of literature will often withhold itself from them unless it have 'drops of their blood like a heavenly familiar,' and in another place sportively invited 'nimble and aspiring wits' to join him in consecrating their endeavours to 'sacred night.' there is really no connection between shakespeare's theory of the supernatural and nocturnal sources of his rival's influence and chapman's trite allusion to the current faith in the power of 'nightly familiars' over men's minds and lives, or chapman's invitation to his literary comrades to honour night with him. it is supererogatory to assume that shakespeare had chapman's phrases in his mind when alluding to superstitions which were universally acknowledged. it could be as easily argued on like grounds that shakespeare was drawing on other authors. nash in his prose tract called independently _the terrors of the night_, which was also printed in , described the nocturnal habits of 'familiars' more explicitly than chapman. the publisher thomas thorpe, in dedicating in marlowe's translation of lucan (bk. i.) to his friend edward blount, humorously referred to the same topic when he reminded blount that 'this spirit [_i.e._ marlowe], whose ghost or genius is to be seen walk the churchyard [of st. paul's] in at the least three or four sheets . . . was sometime a _familiar_ of your own.' on the strength of these quotations, and accepting professor minto's line of argument, nash, thorpe, or blount, whose 'familiar' is declared to have been no less a personage than marlowe, has as good a claim as chapman to be the rival poet of shakespeare's sonnets. a second and equally impotent argument in chapman's favour has been suggested. chapman in the preface to his translation of the _iliads_ ( ) denounces without mentioning any name 'a certain envious windsucker that hovers up and down, laboriously engrossing all the air with his luxurious ambition, and buzzing into every ear my detraction.' it is suggested that chapman here retaliated on shakespeare for his references to him as his rival in the sonnets; but it is out of the question that chapman, were he the rival, should have termed those high compliments 'detraction.' there is no ground for identifying chapman's 'windsucker' with shakespeare (cf. wyndham, p. ). the strongest point in favour of the theory of chapman's identity with the rival poet lies in the fact that each of the two sections of his poem _the shadow of the night_ ( ) is styled a 'hymn,' and shakespeare in sonnet lxxxv. - credits his rival with writing 'hymns.' but drayton, in his _harmonie of the church_, , and barnes, as we have just seen, both wrote 'hymns.' the word was not loosely used in elizabethan english, as in sixteenth-century french, in the general sense of 'poem.' { } see p. , note i. { } sir walter ralegh was wont to apostrophise his aged sovereign thus: oh, hopeful love, my object and invention, oh, true desire, the spur of my conceit, oh, worthiest spirit, my mind's impulsion, oh, eyes transparent, my affection's bait; oh, princely form, my fancy's adamant, divine conceit, my pain's acceptance, oh, all in one! oh, heaven on earth transparent! the seat of joy and love's abundance! (cf. _cynthia_, a fragment in _poems of raleigh_, ed. hannah, p. .) when ralegh leaves elizabeth's presence he tell us his 'forsaken heart' and his 'withered mind' were 'widowed of all the joys' they 'once possessed.' only some lines (the twenty-first book and a fragment of another book) survive of ralegh's poem _cynthia_, the whole of which was designed to prove his loyalty to the queen, and all the extant lines are in the same vein as those i quote. the complete poem extended to twenty-two books, and the lines exceeded , , or five times as many as in shakespeare's sonnets. richard barnfield in his like-named poem of _cynthia_, , and fulke greville in sonnets addressed to cynthia, also extravagantly described the queen's beauty and graces. in sir john davies, poet and lawyer, apostrophised elizabeth, who was then sixty-six years old, thus: fair soul, since to the fairest body knit you give such lively life, such quickening power, such sweet celestial influences to it as keeps it still in youth's immortal flower . . . o many, many years may you remain a happy angel to this happy land (_nosce teipsum_, dedication). davies published in the same year twenty-six 'hymnes of astrea' on elizabeth's beauty and graces; each poem forms an acrostic on the words 'elizabetha regina,' and the language of love is simulated on almost every page. { a} _apologie for poetrie_ ( ), ed. shuckburgh, p. . { b} adulatory sonnets to patrons are met with in the preliminary or concluding pages of numerous sixteenth and seventeenth century books (_e.g._ the collection of sonnets addressed to james vi of scotland in his _essayes of a prentise_, , and the sonnets to noblemen before spenser's _faerie queene_, at the end of chapman's _iliad_, and at the end of john davies's _microcosmos_, ). other sonnets to patrons are scattered through collections of occasional poems, such as ben jonson's _forest_ and _underwoods_ and donne's _poems_. sonnets addressed to men are not only found in the preliminary pages, but are occasionally interpolated in sonnet-sequences of fictitious love. sonnet xi. in drayton's sonnet-fiction called 'idea' (in edition) seems addressed to a man, in much the same manner as shakespeare often addressed his hero; and a few others of drayton's sonnets are ambiguous as to the sex of their subject. john soothern's eccentric collection of love-sonnets, _pandora_ ( ), has sonnets dedicatory to the earl of oxford; and william smith in his _chloris_ ( ) (a sonnet-fiction of the conventional kind) in two prefatory sonnets and in no. xlix. of the substantive collection invokes the affectionate notice of edmund spenser. throughout europe 'dedicatory' sonnets or poems to women betray identical characteristics to those that were addressed to men. the poetic addresses to the countess of bedford and other noble patronesses of donne, ben jonson, and their colleagues are always affectionate, often amorous, in their phraseology, and akin in temper to shakespeare's sonnets of friendship. nicholas breton, in his poem _the pilgrimage to paradise coyned with the countess of pembroke's love_, , and another work of his, _the countess of pembroke's passion_ (first printed from manuscript in ), pays the countess, who was merely his literary patroness, a homage which is indistinguishable from the ecstatic utterances of a genuine and overmastering passion. the difference in the sex of the persons addressed by breton and by shakespeare seems to place their poems in different categories, but they both really belonged to the same class. they both merely display a _protege's_ loyalty to his patron, couched, according to current convention, in the strongest possible terms of personal affection. in italy and france exactly the same vocabulary of adoration was applied by authors indifferently to patrons and patronesses. it is known that one series of michael angelo's impassioned sonnets was addressed to a young nobleman tommaso dei cavalieri, and another series to a noble patroness vittoria colonna, but the tone is the same in both, and internal evidence fails to enable the critic to distinguish between the two series. only one english contemporary of shakespeare published a long series of sonnets addressed to a man who does not prove on investigation to have been a professional patron. in richard barnfield appended to his poem _cynthia_ a set of twenty sonnets, in which he feignedly avowed affection for a youth called ganymede. these poems do not belong to the same category as shakespeare's, but to the category of sonnet-sequences of love in which it was customary to invoke a fictitious mistress. barnfield explained that in his sonnets he attempted a variation on the conventional practice by fancifully adapting to the sonnet-form the second of virgil's _eclogues_, in which the shepherd corydon apostrophises the shepherd-boy alexis. { a} cf. sonnet lix. show me your image in some antique book . . . oh sure i am the wits of former days to subjects worse have given admiring praise. { b} campion's _poems_, ed. bullen, pp. seq. cf. shakespeare's sonnets: o how i faint when i of you do write.--(lxxx. .) finding thy worth a limit past my praise.--(lxxxii. .) { } donne's _poems_ (in muses' library), ii. . see also donne's sonnets and verse-letters to mr. rowland woodward and mr. i. w. { } see p. note . { a} three years was the conventional period which sonnetteers allotted to the development of their passion. cf. ronsard, _sonnets pour helene_ (no. xiv.), beginning: 'trois ans sont ja passez que ton oeil me tient pris.' { b} octavius caesar at thirty-two is described by mark antony after the battle of actium as the 'boy caesar' who 'wears the rose of youth' (_antony and cleopatra_, iii. ii. seq.) spenser in his _astrophel_ apostrophises sir philip sidney on his death near the close of his thirty-second year as 'oh wretched boy' (l. ) and 'luckless boy' (l. ). conversely it was a recognised convention among sonnetteers to exaggerate their own age. see p. , note. { } two portraits, representing the earl in early manhood, are at welbeck abbey, and are described above. of the remaining seven paintings, two are assigned to van somer, and represent the earl in early middle age; one, a half-length, a very charming picture, now belongs to james knowles, esq., of queen anne's lodge; the other, a full-length in drab doublet and hose, is in the shakespeare memorial gallery at stratford-on-avon. mireveldt twice painted the earl at a later period of his career; one of the pictures is now at woburn abbey, the property of the duke of bedford, the other is at the national portrait gallery. a fifth picture, assigned to mytens, belongs to viscount powerscourt; a sixth, by an unknown artist, belongs to mr. wingfield digby, and the seventh (in armour) is in the master's lodge at st. john's college, cambridge, where southampton was educated. the miniature by isaac oliver, which also represents southampton in late life, was formerly in dr. lumsden propert's collection. it now belongs to a collector at hamburg. the two miniatures assigned to peter oliver belong respectively to mr. jeffery whitehead and sir francis cook, bart. (cf. catalogue of exhibition of portrait miniatures at the burlington fine arts club, london, , pp. , , .) in all the best preserved of these portraits the eyes are blue and the hair a dark shade of auburn. among the middle-life portraits southampton appears to best advantage in the one by van somer belonging to mr. james knowles. { } i describe these pictures from a personal inspection of them which the duke kindly permitted me to make. { a} cf. shakespeare's sonnet iii.: thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee calls back the lovely april of her prime. { b} southampton's singularly long hair procured him at times unwelcome attentions. when, in january , he struck ambrose willoughby, an esquire of the body, for asking him to break off owing to the lateness of the hour, a game of primero that he was playing in the royal chamber at whitehall, the esquire willoughby is stated to have retaliated by 'pulling off some of the earl's locks.' on the incident being reported to the queen, she 'gave willoughby, in the presence, thanks for what he did' (_sydney papers_, ii. ). { a} these quotations are from _sorrowes joy_, a collection of elegies on queen elizabeth by cambridge writers (cambridge, ), and from chettle's _england's mourning garment_, london, ). { b} gervase markham's _honour in her perfection_, . { a} manningham's _diary_, camden soc., p. . { b} _court and times of james i_, i. i. . { c} see appendix iv. { } the fine exordium of sonnet cxix.: what potions have i drunk of siren tears, distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, adopts expressions in barnes's vituperative sonnet (no xlix.), where, after denouncing his mistress as a 'siren,' the poet incoherently ejaculates: from my love's limbeck [_sc._ have i] still [di]stilled tears! almost every note in the scale of sadness or self-reproach is sounded from time to time in petrarch's sonnets. tasso in _scelta delle rime_, , p. ii. p. , has a sonnet (beginning 'vinca fortuna homai, se sotto il peso') which adumbrates shakespeare's sonnets xxix. ('when in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes') and lxvi. ('tired with all these, for restful death i cry'). drummond of hawthornden translated tasso's sonnet in his sonnet (part i. no. xxxiii.); while drummond's sonnets xxv. ('what cruel star into this world was brought') and xxxii. ('if crost with all mishaps be my poor life') are pitched in the identical key. { a} sidney's _certain sonnets_ (no. xiii.) appended to _astrophel and stella_ in the edition of . in _emaricdulfe_: _sonnets written by e. c._, , sonnet xxxvii. beginning 'o lust, of sacred love the foul corrupter,' even more closely resembles shakespeare's sonnet in both phraseology and sentiment. e. c.'s rare volume is reprinted in the _lamport garland_ (roxburghe club), . { b} even this sonnet is adapted from drayton. see sonnet xxii. in edition: an evil spirit your beauty haunts me still . . . thus am i still provoked to every evil by this good-wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil. but shakespeare entirely alters the point of the lines by contrasting the influence exerted on him by the woman with that exerted on him by a man. { } the work was reprinted by dr. grosart in his _occasional issues_, , and extracts from it appear in the new shakspere society's 'allusion books,' i. seq. { } w. s. are common initials, and at least two authors bearing them made some reputation in shakespeare's day. there was a dramatist named wentworth smith (see p. _infra_), and there was a william smith who published a volume of lovelorn sonnets called _chloris_ in . a specious argument might possibly be devised in favour of the latter's identity with willobie's counsellor. but shakespeare, of the two, has the better claim. { } no edition appeared before , and then two were published. { } _oberon's vision_, by the rev. w. j. halpin (shakespeare society), . two accounts of the kenilworth _fetes_, by george gascoigne and robert laneham respectively, were published in . { } reprinted by the shakespeare society in . { } all these details are of shakespeare's invention, and do not figure in the old play. but in the crude induction in the old play the nondescript drunkard is named without prefix 'slie.' that surname, although it was very common at stratford and in the neighbourhood, was borne by residents in many other parts of the country, and its appearance in the old play is not in itself, as has been suggested, sufficient to prove that the old play was written by a warwickshire man. there are no other names or references in the old play that can be associated with warwickshire. { } mr. richard savage, the secretary and librarian of the birthplace trustees at stratford, has generously placed at my disposal this interesting fact, which he lately discovered. { } it was licensed for publication in , and published in . { a} the quarto of reads woncote: all the folios read woncot. yet malone in the variorum of introduced the new and unwarranted reading of wincot, which has been unwisely adopted by succeeding editors. { b} these references are convincingly explained by mr. justice madden in his _diary of master silence_, pp. seq., - . cf. blunt's _dursley and its neighbourhood_, huntley's _glossary of the cotswold dialect_, and marshall's _rural economy of cotswold_ ( ). { } first adopted by theobald in ; cf. halliwell-phillipps, ii. . { a} _remarks_, p. . { b} cf. shakespeare society's reprint, , ed. halliwell. { c} this collection of stories is said by both malone and steevens to have been published in , although no edition earlier than is now known. the edition of _westward for smelts_, _written by kinde kit of kingston_, was reprinted by the percy society in . cf. _shakespeare's library_, ed. hazlitt, i. ii. - . { } _diary_, p. ; see p. . { } nichols, _progresses of elizabeth_, iii. . { a} cf. domestic mss. (elizabeth) in public record office, vol. cclxxviii. nos. and ; and calendar of domestic state papers, - , pp. - . { b} cf. gilchrist, _examination of the charges_ . . . _of jonson's enmity towards shakspeare_, . { } latten is a mixed metal resembling brass. pistol in _merry wives of windsor_ (i. i. ) likens slender to a 'latten bilbo,' that is, a sword made of the mixed metal. cf. _anecdotes and traditions_, edited from l'estrange's mss. by w. j. thoms for the camden society, p. . { } this, or some synonym, is the conventional epithet applied at the date to shakespeare and his work. weever credited such characters of shakespeare as tarquin, romeo, and richard iii with 'sugred tongues' in his _epigrams_ of . in the _return from parnassus_ ( ?) shakespeare is apostrophised as 'sweet master shakespeare.' milton did homage to the tradition by writing of 'sweetest shakespeare' in _l'allegro_. { } a hack-writer, wentworth smith, took a hand in producing thirteen plays, none of which are extant, for the theatrical manager, philip henslowe, between and . _the hector of germanie_, an extant play 'made by w. smith' and published 'with new additions' in , was doubtless by wentworth smith, and is the only dramatic work by him that has survived. neither internal nor external evidence confirms the theory that the above-mentioned six plays, which have been wrongly claimed for shakespeare, were really by wentworth smith. the use of the initials 'w.s.' was not due to the publishers' belief that wentworth smith was the author, but to their endeavour to delude their customers into a belief that the plays were by shakespeare. { } cf. p. infra. { } there were twenty pieces in all. the five by shakespeare are placed in the order i. ii. iii. v. xvi. of the remainder, two--'if music and sweet poetry agree' (no. viii.) and 'as it fell upon a day' (no. xx.)--were borrowed from barnfield's _poems in divers humours_ ( ). 'venus with adonis sitting by her' (no. xi.) is from bartholomew griffin's _fidessa_ ( ); 'my flocks feed not' (no. xvii.) is adapted from thomas weelkes's _madrigals_ ( ); 'live with me and be my love' is by marlowe; and the appended stanza, entitled 'love's answer,' by sir walter ralegh (no. xix.); 'crabbed age and youth cannot live together' (no. xii.) is a popular song often quoted by the elizabethan dramatists. nothing has been ascertained of the origin and history of the remaining nine poems (iv. vi. vii. ix. x. xiii. xiv. xviii.) { } a unique copy of chester's _love's martyr_ is in mr. christie-miller's library at britwell. of a reissue of the original edition in with a new title, _the annals of great brittaine_, a copy (also unique) is in the british museum. a reprint of the original edition was prepared for private circulation by dr. grosart in , in his series of 'occasional issues.' it was also printed in the same year as one of the publications of the new shakspere society. matthew roydon in his elegy on sir philip sidney, appended to spenser's _colin clouts come home againe_, , describes the part figuratively played in sidney's obsequies by the turtle-dove, swan, phoenix, and eagle, in verses that very closely resemble shakespeare's account of the funereal functions fulfilled by the same four birds in his contribution to chester's volume. this resemblance suggests that shakespeare's poem may be a fanciful adaptation of roydon's elegiac conceits without ulterior significance. shakespeare's concluding 'threnos' is imitated in metre and phraseology by fletcher in his _mad lover_ in the song 'the lover's legacy to his cruel mistress.' { } halliwell-phillipps, ii. . { a} there is an admirable discussion of the question involved in the poet's heraldry in _herald and genealogist_, i. . facsimiles of all the documents preserved in the college of arms are given in _miscellanea genealogica et heraldica_, nd ser. , i. . halliwell-phillipps prints imperfectly one of the draft-grants, and that of (_outlines_, ii. , ), but does not distinguish the character of the negotiation of the earlier year from that of the negotiation of the later year. { b} it is still customary at the college of arms to inform an applicant for a coat-of-arms who has a father alive that the application should be made in the father's name, and the transaction conducted as if the father were the principal. it was doubtless on advice of this kind that shakespeare was acting in the negotiations that are described below. { } in a manuscript in the british museum (_harl. ms._ , f. ) is a copy of the tricking of the arms of william 'shakspere,' which is described 'as a pattent per will'm dethike garter, principale king of armes;' this is figured in french's _shakespeareana genealogica_, p. . { } these memoranda, which were as follows, were first written without the words here enclosed in brackets; those words were afterwards interlineated in the manuscript in a hand similar to that of the original sentences: '[this john shoeth] a patierne therof under clarent cookes hand in paper. xx. years past. [the q. officer and cheffe of the towne] [a justice of peace] and was a baylife of stratford uppo avon xv. or xvj. years past. that he hathe lands and tenements of good wealth and substance [ li.] that he mar[ried a daughter and heyre of arden, a gent. of worship.]' { } 'an exemplification' was invariably secured more easily than a new grant of arms. the heralds might, if they chose, tacitly accept, without examination, the applicant's statement that his family had borne arms long ago, and they thereby regarded themselves as relieved of the obligation of close inquiry into his present status. { a} on the gravestone of john hall, shakespeare's elder son-in-law, the shakespeare arms are similarly impaled with those of hall. { b} french, _genealogica shakespeareana_, p. . { } the details of brooke's accusation are not extant, and are only to be deduced from the answer of garter and clarenceux to brooke's complaint, two copies of which are accessible: one is in the vol. w-z at the heralds' college, f. ; and the other, slightly differing, is in ashmole ms. , ix. f. . both are printed in the _herald and genealogist_, i. . { a} _notes and queries_, th ser. v. . { b} the tradition that shakespeare planted the mulberry tree was not put on record till it was cut down in . in mention is made of it in a letter of thanks in the corporation's archives from the steward of the court of record to the corporation of stratford for presenting him with a standish made from the wood. but, according to the testimony of old inhabitants confided to malone (cf. his _life of shakespeare_, , p. ), the legend had been orally current in stratford since shakespeare's lifetime. the tree was perhaps planted in , when a frenchman named veron distributed a number of young mulberry trees through the midland counties by order of james i, who desired to encourage the culture of silkworms (cf. halliwell-phillipps, i. , - ). { a} i do not think we shall over-estimate the present value of shakespeare's income if we multiply each of its items by eight, but it is difficult to state authoritatively the ratio between the value of money in shakespeare's time and in our own. the money value of corn then and now is nearly identical; but other necessaries of life--meat, milk, eggs, wool, building materials, and the like--were by comparison ludicrously cheap in shakespeare's day. if we strike the average between the low price of these commodities and the comparatively high price of corn, the average price of necessaries will be found to be in shakespeare's day about an eighth of what it is now. the cost of luxuries is also now about eight times the price that it was in the sixteenth or seventeenth century. sixpence was the usual price of a new quarto or octavo book such as would now be sold at prices ranging between three shillings and sixpence and six shillings. half a crown was charged for the best-placed seats in the best theatres. the purchasing power of one elizabethan pound might be generally defined in regard to both necessaries and luxuries as equivalent to that of eight pounds of the present currency. { b} cf. henslowe's _diary_, ed. collier, pp. xxviii seq. after the restoration the receipts at the third performance were given for the author's 'benefit.' { a} _return from parnassus_, v. i. - . { b} cf. h[enry] p[arrot]'s _laquei ridiculosi or springes for woodcocks_, , epigram no. , headed 'theatrum licencia:' cotta's become a player most men know, and will no longer take such toyling paines; for here's the spring (saith he) whence pleasures flow and brings them damnable excessive gaines: that now are cedars growne from shrubs and sprigs, since greene's _tu quoque_ and those garlicke jigs. greens _tu quoque_ was a popular comedy that had once been performed at court by the queen's players, and 'garlicke jigs' alluded derisively to drolling entertainments, interspersed with dances, which won much esteem from patrons of the smaller playhouses. { } the documents which are now in the public record office among the papers relating to the lord chamberlain's office, were printed in full by halliwell-phillipps, i. - . { } in robert daborne, a playwright of insignificant reputation, charged for a drama as much as pounds. _alleyn papers_, ed. collier, p. . { } ten pounds was the ordinary fee paid to actors for a performance at the court of james i. shakespeare's company appeared annually twenty times and more at whitehall during the early years of james i's reign, and shakespeare, as being both author and actor, doubtless received a larger share of the receipts than his colleagues. { a} cf. halliwell-phillipps, i. - ; fleay, _stage_, pp. - { b} halliwell-phillipps, ii. - . { a} see p. . { b} halliwell-phillipps, ii. - . { } _accounts of the revels_, ed. peter cunningham (shakespeare society), p. ; _variorum shakespeare_, , iii. . { a} it was reproduced by the hakluyt society to accompany _the voyages and workes of john davis the navigator_, ed. captain a. h. markham, . cf. mr. coote's note on the _new map_, lxxxv-xcv. a paper on the subject by mr. coote also appears in _new shakspere society's transactions_, - , pt. i. - . { b} _diary_, camden soc. p. ; the elizabethan stage society repeated the play on the same stage on february , and , . { c} bandello's _novelle_, ii. . { a} first published in ; nd edit. . { b} _hamlet_, iii. ii. - . { a} on december , , the lords of the council sent letters to the lord mayor of london and to the magistrates of surrey and middlesex expressing their surprise that no steps had yet been taken to limit the number of playhouses in accordance with 'our order set down and prescribed about a year and a half since.' but nothing followed, and no more was heard officially of the council's order until , when the corporation of london remarked on its practical abrogation at the same time as they directed the suppression (which was not carried out) of the blackfriars theatre. all the documents on this subject are printed from the privy council register by halliwell-phillipps, - . { b} the passage, act ii. sc. ii. - , which deals in ample detail with the subject, only appears in the folio version of . in the first quarto a very curt reference is made to the misfortunes of the 'tragedians of the city:' 'y' faith, my lord, noveltie carries it away, for the principal publike audience that came to them are turned to private playes and to the humours of children.' 'private playes' were plays acted by amateurs, with whom the 'children' might well be classed. { a} all recent commentators follow steevens in interpreting the 'late innovation' as the order of the privy council of june , restricting the number of the london playhouses to two; but that order, which was never put in force, in no way affected the actors' fortunes. the first quarto's reference to the perils attaching to the 'noveltie' of the boys' performances indicates the true meaning. { b} _hamlet_, ii. ii. - . { } at the moment offensive personalities seemed to have infected all the london theatres. on may , , the privy council called the attention of the middlesex magistrates to the abuse covertly levelled by the actors of the 'curtain' at gentlemen 'of good desert and quality,' and directed the magistrates to examine all plays before they were produced (_privy council register_). jonson subsequently issued an 'apologetical dialogue' (appended to printed copies of the _poetaster_), in which he somewhat truculently qualified his hostility to the players: 'now for the players 'tis true i tax'd them and yet but some, and those so sparingly as all the rest might have sat still unquestioned, had they but had the wit or conscience to think well of themselves. but impotent they thought each man's vice belonged to their whole tribe; and much good do it them. what they have done against me i am not moved with, if it gave them meat or got them clothes, 'tis well; that was their end, only amongst them i am sorry for some better natures by the rest so drawn to run in that vile line.' { } see p. , note i, _ad fin_. { } the proposed identification of virgil in the 'poetaster' with chapman has little to recommend it. chapman's literary work did not justify the commendations which were bestowed on virgil in the play. { } the most scornful criticism that jonson is known to have passed on any composition by shakespeare was aimed at a passage in _julius caesar_, and as jonson's attack is barely justifiable on literary grounds, it is fair to assume that the play was distasteful to him from other considerations. 'many times,' jonson wrote of shakespeare in his _timber_, 'hee fell into those things [which] could not escape laughter: as when hee said in the person of _caesar_, one speaking to him [_i.e._ caesar]; _caesar_, _thou dost me wrong_. hee [_i.e._ caesar] replyed: _caesar did never wrong_, _butt with just cause_: and such like, which were ridiculous.' jonson derisively quoted the same passage in the induction to _the staple of news_ ( ): 'cry you mercy, you did not wrong but with just cause.' possibly the words that were ascribed by jonson to shakespeare's character of _caesar_ appeared in the original version of the play, but owing perhaps to jonson's captious criticism they do not figure in the folio version, the sole version that has reached us. the only words there that correspond with jonson's quotation are caesar's remark: know, caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause will he be satisfied (iii. i. - ). the rhythm and sense seem to require the reinsertion after the word 'wrong' of the phrase 'but with just cause,' which jonson needlessly reprobated. leonard digges ( - ), one of shakespeare's admiring critics, emphasises the superior popularity of shakespeare's _julius caesar_ in the theatre to ben jonson's roman play of _catiline_, in his eulogistic lines on shakespeare (published after digges's death in the edition of shakespeare's _poems_): so have i seen when caesar would appear, and on the stage at half-sword parley were brutus and cassius--oh, how the audience were ravish'd, with what wonder they went thence when some new day they would not brook a line of tedious, though well laboured, catiline. { } i wrote on this point in the article on thomas kyd in the _dictionary of national biography_ (vol. xxxi.): 'the argument in favour of kyd's authorship of a pre-shakespearean play (now lost) on the subject of hamlet deserves attention. nash in , when describing [in his preface to _menaphon_] the typical literary hack, who at almost every point suggests kyd, notices that in addition to his other accomplishments "he will afford you whole hamlets, i should say handfuls of tragical speeches." other references in popular tracts and plays of like date prove that in an early tragedy concerning hamlet there was a ghost who cried repeatedly, "hamlet, revenge!" and that this expression took rank in elizabethan slang beside the vernacular quotations from [kyd's sanguinary tragedy of] _jeronimo_, such as "what outcry calls me from my naked bed," and "beware, hieronimo, go by, go by." the resemblance between the stories of _hamlet_ and _jeronimo_ suggests that the former would have supplied kyd with a congenial plot. in _jeronimo_ a father seeks to avenge his son's murder; in _hamlet_ the theme is the same with the position of father and son reversed. in _jeronimo_ the avenging father resolves to reach his end by arranging for the performance of a play in the presence of those whom he suspects of the murder of his son, and there is good ground for crediting the lost tragedy of _hamlet_ with a similar play-scene. shakespeare's debt to the lost tragedy is a matter of conjecture, but the stilted speeches of the play-scene in his _hamlet_ read like intentional parodies of kyd's bombastic efforts in _the spanish tragedy_, and it is quite possible that they were directly suggested by an almost identical episode in a lost _hamlet_ by the same author.' shakespeare elsewhere shows acquaintance with kyd's work. he places in the mouth of kit sly in the _taming of the shrew_ the current phrase 'go by, jeronimy,' from _the spanish tragedy_. shakespeare quotes verbatim a line from the same piece in _much ado about nothing_ (i. i. ): 'in time the savage bull doth bear the yoke;' but kyd practically borrowed that line from watson's _passionate centurie_ (no. xlvii.), where shakespeare may have met it. { } cf. gericke and max moltke, _hamlet-quellen_, leipzig, . the story was absorbed into scandinavian mythology: cf. _ambales-saga_, edited by mr. israel gollancz, . { } cf. _hamlet_--parallel texts of the first and second quarto, and first folio--ed. wilhelm vietor, marburg, ; _the devonshire hamlets_, , parallel texts of the two quartos edited by mr. sam timmins; _hamlet_, ed. george macdonald, , a study with the text of the folio. { a} arber's _transcript of the stationers' registers_, iii. . { b} _ib._ iii. . { } less satisfactory is the endeavour that has been made by mr. f. g. fleay and mr. george wyndham to treat _troilus and cressida_ as shakespeare's contribution to the embittered controversy of - , between jonson on the one hand and marston and dekker and their actor friends on the other hand, and to represent the play as a pronouncement against jonson. according to this fanciful view, shakespeare held up jonson to savage ridicule in ajax, while in thersites he denounced marston, despite marston's intermittent antagonism to jonson, which entitled him to freedom from attack by jonson's foes. the appearance of the word 'mastic' in the line ( . iii. ) 'when rank thersites opes his mastic jaws' is treated as proof of shakespeare's identification of thersites with marston, who used the pseudonym 'therio-mastix' in his _scourge of villainy_. it would be as reasonable to identify him with dekker, who wrote the greater part of _satiro-mastix_. 'mastic' is doubtless an adjective formed without recondite significance from the substantive 'mastic,' _i.e._ the gum commonly used at the time for stopping decayed teeth. no hypothesis of a polemical intention is needed to account for shakespeare's conception of ajax or thersites. there is no trait in either character as depicted by shakespeare which a reading of chapman's _homer_ would fail to suggest. the controversial interpretation of the play is in conflict with chronology (for _troilus_ cannot, on any showing, be assigned to the period of the war between jonson and dekker, in - ), and it seems confuted by the facts and arguments already adduced in the discussion of the theatrical conflict (see pp. - ). if more direct disproof be needed, it may be found in shakespeare's prologue to _troilus_, where there is a good-humoured and expressly pacific allusion to the polemical aims of jonson's _poetaster_. jonson had introduced into his play 'an _armed_ prologue' on account, he asserted, of his enemies' menaces. shakespeare, after describing in his prologue to _troilus_ the progress of the trojan war before his story opened, added that his 'prologue' presented itself '_arm'd_,' not to champion 'author's pen or actor's voice,' but simply to announce in a guise befitting the warlike subject-matter that the play began in the middle of the conflict between greek and trojan, and not at the beginning. these words of shakespeare put out of court any interpretation of shakespeare's play that would represent it as a contribution to the theatrical controversy. { } _england's mourning garment_, , sign. d. . { } at the same time the earl of worcester's company was taken into the queen's patronage, and its members were known as 'the queen's servants,' while the earl of nottingham's company was taken into the patronage of the prince of wales, and its members were known as the prince's servants. this extended patronage of actors by the royal family was noticed as especially honourable to the king by one of his contemporary panegyrists, gilbert dugdale, in his _time triumphant_, , sig. b. { a} the entry, which appears in the accounts of the treasurer of the chamber, was first printed in in cunningham's _extracts from the accounts of the revels at court_, p. xxxiv. a comparison of cunningham's transcript with the original in the public record office (_audit office_--_declared accounts_--treasurer of the chamber, bundle , roll ) shows that it is accurate. the earl of pembroke was in no way responsible for the performance at wilton house. at the time, the court was formally installed in his house (cf. _cal. state papers_, dom. - ) pp. - ), and the court officers commissioned the players to perform there, and paid all their expenses. the alleged tradition, recently promulgated for the first time by the owners of wilton, that _as you like it_ was performed on the occasion, is unsupported by contemporary evidence. { b} the grant is transcribed in the new shakspere society's _transactions_, - , appendix ii., from the lord chamberlain's papers in the public record office, where it is now numbered . the number allotted it in the _transactions_ is obsolete. { a} a contemporary copy of this letter, which declared the queen's players acting at the fortune and the prince's players at the curtain to be entitled to the same privileges as the king's players, is at dulwich college (cf. g. f. warner's _catalogue of the dulwich manuscripts_, pp. - ). collier printed it in his _new facts_ with fraudulent additions, in which the names of shakespeare and other actors figured. { b} mr. halliwell-phillipps in his _outlines_, i. , cites a royal order to this effect, but gives no authority, and i have sought in vain for the document at the public record office, at the british museum, and elsewhere. but there is no reason to doubt the fact that shakespeare and his fellow-actors took, as grooms of the chamber, part in the ceremonies attending the constable's visit to london. in the unprinted accounts of edmund tilney, master of the revels, for the year october to october , charge is made for his three days' attendance with four men to direct the entertainments 'at the receaving of the constable of spayne' (public record office, _declared accounts_, pipe office roll ). the magnificent festivities culminated in a splendid banquet given in the constable's honour by james i at whitehall on sunday, august / --the day on which the treaty was signed. in the morning all the members of the royal household accompanied the constable in formal procession from somerset house. after the banquet, at which the earls of pembroke and southampton acted as stewards, there was a ball, and the king's guests subsequently witnessed exhibitions of bear baiting, bull baiting, rope dancing, and feats of horsemanship. (cf. stow's _chronicle_, , pp. - , and a spanish pamphlet, _relacion de la jornada del exc__mo__ condestabile de castilla_, etc., antwerp, , to, which was summarised in ellis's _original letters_, nd series, vol. iii. pp. - , and was partly translated in mr. w. b. rye's _england as seen by foreigners_, pp. - ). { } at the bodleian library (ms. rawlinson, a ) are the original accounts of lord stanhope of harrington, treasurer of the chamber for various (detached) years in the early part of james i's reign. these documents show that shakespeare's company acted at court on november and , december and , , and on january and , february and , and the evenings of the following shrove sunday, shrove monday, and shrove tuesday, . { } these dates are drawn from a memorandum of plays performed at court in and which is among malone's manuscripts in the bodleian library, and was obviously derived by malone from authentic documents that were in his day preserved at the audit office in somerset house. the document cannot now be traced at the public record office, whither the audit office papers have been removed since malone's death. peter cunningham professed to print the original document in his accounts of the revels at court (shakespeare society, , pp. _et seq._), but there is no doubt that he forged his so-called transcript, and that the additions which he made to malone's memorandum were the outcome of his fancy. collier's assertion in his _new particulars_, p. , that _othello_ was first acted at sir thomas egerton's residence at harefield on august , , was based solely on a document among the earl of ellesmere's mss. at bridgwater house, which purported to be a contemporary account by the clerk, sir arthur maynwaring, of sir thomas egerton's household expenses. this document, which collier reprinted in his _egerton papers_ (camden soc.), p. , was authoritatively pronounced by experts in to be 'a shameful forgery' (cf. ingleby's _complete view of the shakspere controversy_, , pp. - ). { } dr. garnett's _italian literature_, , p. . { } cf. letter by mrs. stopes in _athenaeum_, july , . { } cf. _macbeth_, ed. clark and wright, clarendon press series. { a} this fact is stated on the title-page of the quartos. { b} sidney tells the story in a chapter entitled 'the pitiful state and story of the paphlagonian unkind king and his blind son; first related by the son, then by his blind father' (bk. ii. chap. , ed. to; pp. - , ed. , fol.) { } it was edited for the shakespeare society in by dyce, who owned the manuscript. { } mr. george wyndham in his introduction to his edition of north's _plutarch_, i. pp. xciii-c, gives an excellent criticism of the relations of shakespeare's play to plutarch's life of antonius. { } see the whole of coriolanus's great speech on offering his services to aufidius, the volscian general, iv. v. - : my name is caius marcius, who hath done to thee particularly and to all the volsces, great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may my surname, coriolanus . . . to do thee service. north's translation of plutarch gives in almost the same terms coriolanus's speech on the occasion. it opens: 'i am caius martius, who hath done to thyself particularly, and to all the volsces generally, great hurt and mischief, which i cannot deny for my surname of coriolanus that i bear.' similarly volumnia's stirring appeal to her son and her son's proffer of submission, in act v. sc. iii. - , reproduce with equal literalness north's rendering of plutarch. 'if we held our peace, my son,' volumnia begins in north, 'the state of our raiment would easily betray to thee what life we have led at home since thy exile and abode abroad; but think now with thyself,' and so on. the first sentence of shakespeare's speech runs: should we be silent and not speak, our raiment and state of bodies would bewray what life we have led since thy exile. think with thyself . . . { } see p. and note . { } in i. i. - imogen is described as 'past grace' in the theological sense. in i. ii. - the second lord remarks: 'if it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned.' { a} see p. , note i. camillo's reflections (i. ii. ) on the ruin that attends those who 'struck anointed kings' have been regarded, not quite conclusively, as specially designed to gratify james i. { b} _conversations with drummond_, p. . { c} in _winter's tale_ (iv. iv. et seq.) autolycus threatens that the clown's son 'shall be flayed alive; then 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest,' &c. in boccaccio's story the villain ambrogiuolo (shakespeare's iachimo), after 'being bounden to the stake and anointed with honey,' was 'to his exceeding torment not only slain but devoured of the flies and wasps and gadflies wherewith that country abounded' (cf. _decameron_, translated by john payne, , i. ). { a} printed in cohn's _shakespeare in germany_. { b} golding's translation of ovid's _metamorphoses_, edit. , p. _b_. the passage begins: ye ayres and windes, ye elves of hills, ye brookes and woods alone. { } _variorum shakespeare_, , xv. . in the early weeks of shakespeare's company presented no fewer than fifteen plays at court. payment of pounds was made to the actors for their services on february , - . the council's warrant is extant in the _bodleian library ms._ rawl. a (f. ). the plays performed were not specified by name, but some by shakespeare were beyond doubt amongst them, and possibly 'the tempest.' a forged page which was inserted in a detached account-book of the master of the court-revels for the years and at the public record office, and was printed as genuine in peter cunningham's _extracts from the revels' accounts_, p. , supplies among other entries two to the effect that 'the tempest' was performed at whitehall at hallowmas (_i.e._ november ) and that 'a winter's tale' followed four days later, on november . though these entries are fictitious, the information they offer may be true. malone doubtless based his positive statement respecting the date of the composition of 'the tempest' in on memoranda made from papers then accessible at the audit office, but now, since the removal of those archives to the public record office, mislaid. all the forgeries introduced into the revels' accounts are well considered and show expert knowledge (see p. , note i). the forger of the entries probably worked either on the published statement of malone, or on fuller memoranda left by him among his voluminous manuscripts. { a} cf. _universal review_, april , article by dr. richard garnett. { b} harmonised scores of johnson's airs for the songs 'full fathom five' and 'where the bee sucks,' are preserved in wilson's _cheerful ayres or ballads set for three voices_, . { a} cf. browning, _caliban upon setebos_; daniel wilson, _caliban_, _or the missing link_ ( ); and renan, _caliban_ ( ), a drama continuing shakespeare's play. { b} when shakespeare wrote _troilus and cressida_ he had formed some conception of a character of the caliban type. thersites say of ajax (iii. iii. ), 'he's grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster.' { a} treasurer's accounts in rawl. ms. a , leaf (in the bodleian), printed in new shakspere society's _transactions_, - , part ii. p. . { b} _the merry devill of edmonton_, a comedy which was first published in , was also re-entered by moseley for publication on september , , as the work of shakespeare (see p. _supra_). { a} dyce thought he detected traces of shirley's workmanship, but it was possibly theobald's unaided invention. { b} the quarto of the play was carefully edited for the new shakspere society by mr. harold littledale in . see also spalding, _shakespeare's authorship of_ '_two noble kinsmen_,' , reprinted by new shakspere society, ; article by spalding in _edinburgh review_, ; _transactions_, new shakspere society, . { } cf. mr. robert boyle in _transactions_ of the new shakspere society, . { } _reliquiae wottonianae_, , pp. - . wotton adds 'that the piece was set forth with many extraordinary circumstances of pomp and majesty, even to the matting of the stage; the knights of the order, with their georges and garters, the guards with their embroidered coats, and the like: sufficient in truth within a while to make greatness very familiar, if not ridiculous. now king _henry_ making a masque at the cardinal _wolsey's_ house, and certain canons being shot off at his entry, some of the paper or other stuff wherewith one of them was stopped, did light on the thatch, where being thought at first but an idle smoak, and their eyes more attentive to the show, it kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming within less than an hour the whole house to the very grounds. this was the fatal period of that vertuous fabrique; wherein yet nothing did perish, but wood and straw and a few forsaken cloaks; only one man had his breeches set on fire, that would perhaps have broyled him, if he had not by the benefit of a provident wit put it out with bottle[d] ale.' john chamberlain writing to sir ralph winwood on july , , briefly mentions that the theatre was burnt to the ground in less than two hours owing to the accidental ignition of the thatch roof through the firing of cannon 'to be used in the play.' the audience escaped unhurt though they had 'but two narrow doors to get out' (winwood's _memorials_, iii. p. ). a similar account was sent by the rev. thomas lorkin to sir thomas puckering, bart., from london, june , . 'the fire broke out,' lorkin wrote, 'no longer since than yesterday, while burbage's company were acting at the globe the play of _henry viii_' (_court and times of james i_, , vol. i. p. ). a contemporary sonnet on 'the pittifull burning of the globe playhouse in london,' first printed by haslewood 'from an old manuscript volume of poems' in the _gentleman's magazine_ for , was again printed by halliwell-phillipps (i. pp. , ) from an authentic manuscript in the library of sir matthew wilson, bart., of eshton hall, yorkshire. { a} _bodl. ms._ rawl. a ; cf. spedding in _gentleman's magazine_, , reprinted in new shakspere society's _transactions_, . { b} cf. mr. robert boyle in new shakspere society's _transactions_, . { } halliwell-phillipps, ii. . { a} manningham, _diary_, march , , camd. soc. p. . { b} cf. aubrey, _lives_; halliwell-phillipps, ii. ; and art. sir william d'avenant in the _dictionary of national biography_. { } the indenture prepared for the purchaser is in the halliwell-phillipps collection, which was sold to mr. marsden j. perry of providence, rhode island, u.s.a., in january . that held by the vendor is in the guildhall library. { } shakespeare's references to puritans in the plays of his middle and late life are so uniformly discourteous that they must be judged to reflect his personal feeling. the discussion between maria and sir andrew aguecheek regarding malvolio's character in _twelfth night_ (ii. iii. et seq.) runs: maria. marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan. sir andrew. o! if i thought that, i'd beat him like a dog. sir toby. what, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight. sir andrew. i have no exquisite reason for 't, but i have reason good enough. in _winter's tale_ (iv. iii. ) the clown, after making contemptuous references to the character of the shearers, remarks that there is 'but one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes.' cf. the allusions to 'grace' and 'election' in cymbeline, p. , note . { a} the town council of stratford-on-avon, whose meeting-chamber almost overlooked shakespeare's residence of new place, gave curious proof of their puritanic suspicion of the drama on february , , when they passed a resolution that plays were unlawful and 'the sufferance of them against the orders heretofore made and against the example of other well-governed cities and boroughs,' and the council was therefore 'content,' the resolution ran, that 'the penalty of xs. imposed [on players heretofore] be x_li_. henceforward.' ten years later the king's players were bribed by the council to leave the city without playing. (see the present writer's _stratford-on-avon_, p. .) { b} the lines as quoted by aubrey (_lives_, ed. clark, ii. ) run: ten-in-the-hundred the devil allows, but combe will have twelve he sweares and he vowes; if any man ask, who lies in this tomb? oh! ho! quoth the devil, 'tis my john-a-combe. rowe's version opens somewhat differently: ten-in-the-hundred lies here ingrav'd. 'tis a hundred to ten, his soul is not sav'd. the lines, in one form or another, seem to have been widely familiar in shakespeare's lifetime, but were not ascribed to him. the first two in rowe's version were printed in the epigrams by h[enry] p[arrot], , and again in camden's _remaines_, . the whole first appeared in richard brathwaite's _remains_ in under the heading: 'upon one john combe of stratford upon aven, a notable usurer, fastened upon a tombe that he had caused to be built in his life time.' { } the clumsy entry runs: 'sept. mr. shakespeare tellyng j. greene that i was not able to beare the encloseing of welcombe.' j. greene is to be distinguished from thomas greene, the writer of the diary. the entry therefore implies that shakespeare told j. greene that the writer of the diary, thomas greene, was not able to bear the enclosure. those who represent shakespeare as a champion of popular rights have to read the 'i' in 'i was not able' as 'he.' were that the correct reading, shakespeare would be rightly credited with telling j. greene that he disliked the enclosure; but palaeographers only recognise the reading 'i.' cf. _shakespeare and the enclosure of common fields at welcombe_, a facsimile of greene's diary, now at the birthplace, stratford, with a transcript by mr. e. j. l. scott, edited by dr. c. m. inglehy, . { a} _british magazine_, june . { b} cf. malone, _shakespeare_, , ii. - ; ireland, _confessions_, , p. ; green, _legend of the crab tree_, . { c} the date is in the old style, and is equivalent to may in the new; cervantes, whose death is often described as simultaneous, died at madrid ten days earlier--on april , in the old style, or april , , in the new. { } hall's letter was published as a quarto pamphlet at london in , from the original, now in the bodleian library oxford. { } mr. charles elton, q.c., has been kind enough to give me a legal opinion on this point. he wrote to me on december , : 'i have looked to the authorities with my friend mr. herbert mackay, and there is no doubt that shakespeare barred the dower.' mr. mackay's opinion is couched in the following terms: 'the conveyance of the blackfriars estate to william shakespeare in shows that the estate was conveyed to shakespeare, johnson, jackson, and hemming as joint tenants, and therefore the dower of shakespeare's wife would be barred unless he were the survivor of the four bargainees.' that was a remote contingency, which did not arise, and shakespeare always retained the power of making 'another settlement when the trustees were shrinking.' thus the bar was for practical purposes perpetual, and disposes of mr. halliwell-phillipps's assertion that shakespeare's wife was entitled to dower in one form or another from all his real estate. cf. _davidson on conveyancing_; littleton, sect. ; _coke upon littleton_, ed. hargrave, p. _b_, note i. { a} a hundred and fifty pounds is described as a substantial jointure in _merry wives_, iii. iii. . { b} leonard digges, in commendatory verses before the first folio of , wrote that shakespeare's works would be alive [when] time dissolves thy stratford monument. { } cf. dugdale, _diary_, , p. ; see under article on bernard janssen in the _dictionary of national biography_. { a} 'timber,' in _works_, . { b} john webster, the dramatist, made vague reference in the address before his 'white divel' in to 'the right happy and copious industry of m. shakespeare, m. decker, and m. heywood.' { } the words run: 'heere lyeth interred the bodye of anne, wife of mr. william shakespeare, who depted. this life the th day of august, , being of the age of yeares. 'vbera, tu, mater, tu lac vitamq. dedisti, vae mihi; pro tanto munere saxa dabo! quam mallem, amoueat lapidem bonus angel[us] ore, exeat ut christi corpus, imago tua. sed nil vota valent; venias cito, christe; resurget, clausa licet tumulo, mater, et astra petet.' { } cf. hall, _select observations_, ed. cooke, . { } baker, _northamptonshire_, i. ; _new shaksp. soc. trans._ - , pt. ii. pp. -- . { } halliwell-phillipps, _hist. of new place_, , fol. { } wise, _autograph of william shakespeare_ . . . _together with_ , _ways of spelling the name_, philadelphia, . { } see the article on john florio in the _dictionary of national biography_, and sir frederick madden's _observations on an autograph of shakspere_, . { } cf. halliwell-phillipps, _new lamps or old_, ; malone, _inquiry_, . { } mr. lionel cust, director of the national portrait gallery, who has ittle doubt of the genuineness of the picture, gave an interesting account of it at a meeting of the society of antiquaries on december , . mr. cust's paper is printed in the society's _proceedings_, second series, vol. xvi. p. . mr. salt brassington, the librarian of the shakespeare memorial library, has given a careful description of it in the _illustrated catalogue of the pictures in the memorial gallery_, , pp. - . { a} _harper's magazine_, may . { b} cf. evelyn's _diary and correspondence_, iii. . { c} numberless portraits have been falsely identified with shakespeare, and it would be futile to attempt to make the record of the pretended portraits complete. upwards of sixty have been offered for sale to the national portrait gallery since its foundation in , and not one of these has proved to possess the remotest claim to authenticity. the following are some of the wholly unauthentic portraits that have attracted public attention: three portraits assigned to zucchero, who left england in , and cannot have had any relations with shakespeare--one in the art museum, boston, u.s.a.; another, formerly the property of richard cosway, r.a., and afterwards of mr. j. a. langford of birmingham (engraved in mezzotint by h. green); and a third belonging to the baroness burdett-coutts, who purchased it in . at hampton court is a wholly unauthentic portrait of the chandos type, which was at one time at penshurst; it bears the legend 'aetatis suae ' (cf. law's _cat. of hampton court_, p. ). a portrait inscribed 'aetatis suae , ,' belonging to clement kingston of ashbourne, derbyshire, was engraved in mezzotint by g. f. storm in . { } in the picture-gallery at dulwich is 'a woman's head on a boord done by mr. burbidge, ye actor'--a well-authenticated example of the actor's art. { a} it is now the property of frau oberst becker, the discoverer's daughter-in-law, darmstadt, heidelbergerstrasse . { b} some account of shakespeare's portraits will be found in the following works: james boaden, _inquiry into various pictures and prints of shakespeare_, ; abraham wivell, _inquiry into shakespeare's portraits_, , with engravings by b. and w. holl; george scharf, _principal portraits of shakespeare_, ; j. hain friswell, _life-portraits of shakespeare_, ; william page, _study of shakespeare's portraits_, ; ingleby, _man and book_, , pp. seq.; j. parker norris, _portraits of shakespeare_, philadelphia, , with numerous plates; _illustrated cat. of portraits in shakespeare's memorial at stratford_, . in mr. walter rogers furness issued, at philadelphia, a volume of composite portraits, combining the droeshout engraving and the stratford bust with the chandos, jansen, felton, and stratford portraits. { } cf. _gentleman's magazine_, , p. . { } _a history of the shakespeare memorial_, _stratford-on-avon_, ; _illustrated catalogue of pictures in the shakespeare memorial_, . { } this was facsimiled in , and again by mr. griggs in . { } lithographed facsimiles of most of these volumes, with some of the quarto editions of the poems (forty-eight volumes in all), were prepared by mr. e. w. ashbee, and issued to subscribers by halliwell-phillipps between and . a cheaper set of quarto facsimiles, undertaken by mr. w. griggs, and issued under the supervision of dr. f. j. furnivall, appeared in forty-three volumes between and . { } perfect copies range in price, according to their rarity, from to pounds. in , at the sale of george daniel's library, quarto copies of 'love's labour's lost' and of 'merry wives' (first edition) each fetched pounds s. on may , , a copy of the quarto of 'the merchant of venice' (printed by james roberts in ) was sold at sotheby's for pounds. { } see p. . { } cf. _bibliographica_, i. seq. { } this copy was described in the _variorum shakespeare_ of (xxi. ) as in the possession of messrs. j. and a. arch, booksellers, of cornhill. it was subsequently sold at sotheby's in for pounds s. { a} i cannot trace the present whereabouts of this copy, but it is described in the _variorum shakespeare_ of , xxi. - . { b} the copy seems to have been purchased by a member of the sheldon family in , five years after publication. there is a note in a contemporary hand which says it was bought for pounds s., a somewhat extravagant price. the entry further says that it cost three score pounds of silver, words that i cannot explain. the sheldon family arms are on the sides of the volume, and there are many manuscript notes in the margin, interpreting difficult words, correcting misprints, or suggesting new readings. { c} it has been mutilated by a former owner, and the signature of the leaf is missing, but it was presumably g g . { } correspondents inform me that two copies of the first folio, one formerly belonging to leonard hartley and the other to bishop virtue of portsmouth, showed a somewhat similar irregularity. both copies were bought by american booksellers, and i have not been able to trace them. { } cf. _notes and queries_, st ser., vii. . { a} arber, _stationers' registers_, iii. - . { b} on january , , collier announced in the _athenaeum_, that this copy, which had been purchased by him for thirty shillings, and bore on the outer cover the words '_tho. perkins his booke_,' was annotated throughout by a former owner in the middle of the seventeenth century. shortly afterwards collier published all the 'essential' manuscript readings in a volume entitled _notes and emendations to the plays of shakespeare_. next year he presented the folio to the duke of devonshire. a warm controversy as to the date and genuineness of the corrections followed, but in all doubt as to their origin was set at rest by mr. n. e. s. a. hamilton of the manuscript department of the british museum, who in letters to the _times_ of july and pronounced all the manuscript notes to be recent fabrications in a simulated seventeenth-century hand. { } the best account of eighteenth-century criticism of shakespeare is to be found in the preface to the cambridge edition by mr. aldis wright. the memoirs of the various editors in the _dictionary of national biography_ supply useful information. i have made liberal use of these sources in the sketch given in the following pages. { a} mr. churton collins's admirable essay on theobald's textua criticism of shakespeare, entitled 'the porson of shakespearean critics,' is reprinted from the _quarterly review_ in his _essays and studies_, , pp. et seq. { b} collier doubtless followed theobald's hint when he pretended to have found in his 'perkins folio' the extremely happy emendation (now generally adopted) of 'bisson multitude' for 'bosom multiplied' in coriolanus's speech: how shall this bisson multitude digest the senate's courtesy?--(_coriolanus_, iii. i. - .) { } a happy example of his shrewdness may be quoted from _king lear_, iii. vi. , where in all previous editions edgar's enumeration of various kinds of dogs included the line 'hound or spaniel, brach or hym [or him].' for the last word hanmer substituted 'lym,' which was the elizabethan synonym for bloodhound. { } edition of , vol. i. p. . { a} cf. the opening line of matthew arnold's sonnet on shakespeare: others abide our question. thou art free. { b} these letters have been interpreted as standing for the inscription 'in memoriam scriptoris' as well as for the name of the writer. in the latter connection, they have been variously and inconclusively read as jasper mayne (student), a young oxford writer; as john marston (student or satirist); and as john milton (senior or student). { } charles gildon in , in 'some reflections on mr. rymer's short view of tragedy' which he addressed to dryden, gives the classical version of this incident. 'to give the world,' gildon informs dryden, 'some satisfaction that shakespear has had as great a veneration paid his excellence by men of unquestion'd parts as this i now express of him, i shall give some account of what i have heard from your mouth, sir, about the noble triumph he gain'd over all the ancients by the judgment of the ablest critics of that time. the matter of fact (if my memory fail me not) was this. mr. _hales_ of eaton affirm'd that he wou'd shew all the poets of antiquity outdone by shakespear, in all the topics, and common places made use of in poetry. the enemies of shakespear wou'd by no means yield him so much excellence: so that it came to a resolution of a trial of skill upon that subject; the place agreed on for the dispute was mr. hales's chamber at eaton; a great many books were sent down by the enemies of this poet, and on the appointed day my lord falkland, sir john suckling, and all the persons of quality that had wit and learning, and interested themselves in the quarrel, met there, and upon a thorough disquisition of the point, the judges chose by agreement out of this learned and ingenious assembly unanimously gave the preference to shakespear. and the greek and roman poets were adjudg'd to vail at least their glory in that of the english hero.' { a} milton, _iconoclastes_, , pp. - . { b} cf. evelyn's _diary_, november , : 'i saw hamlet, prince of denmark, played, but now the old plays began to disgust the refined age, since his majesty's being so long abroad.' { a} _conquest of granada_, . { b} _essay on dramatic poesie_, . some interesting, if more qualified, criticism by dryden also appears in his preface to an adaptation of 'troilus and cressida' in . in the prologue to his and d'avenant's adaptation of 'the tempest' in , he wrote: but shakespeare's magic could not copied be; within that circle none durst walk but he. { a} cf. _shakspere's century of praise_, - , new shakspere soc., ed. ingleby and toulmin smith, ; and _fresh allusions_, ed. furnivall, . { b} cf. w. sidney walker, _critical examination of the text of shakespeare_, . { } see _notes and lectures on shakespeare and other poets by s. t. coleridge_, _now first collected by t. ashe_, . coleridge hotly resented the remark, which he attributed to wordsworth, that a german critic first taught us to think correctly concerning shakespeare. (coleridge to mudford, ; cf. dykes campbell's memoir of coleridge, p. cv.) but there is much to be said for wordsworth's general view (see p. , note ). { } r. e. hunter, _shakespeare and the tercentenary celebration_, . { } thomas jordan, a very humble poet, wrote a prologue to notify the new procedure, and referred to the absurdity of the old custom: for to speak truth, men act, that are between forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen with bone so large and nerve so uncompliant, when you call desdemona, enter giant. { } _essays of elia_, ed. canon ainger, pp. et seq. { a} _hamlet_ in - and _macbeth_ in - were each performed by sir henry irving for nights in uninterrupted succession; these are the longest continuous runs that any of shakespeare's plays are known to have enjoyed. { b} see p. . { } cf. alfred roffe, _shakspere music_, ; _songs in shakspere_ . . . _set to music_, , new shakspere soc. { } cf. d. g. morhoff, _unterricht von der teutschen sprache und poesie_, kiel, , p. . { } in his 'essay supplementary to the preface' in the edition of his _poems_ of wordsworth wrote: 'the germans, only of foreign nations, are approaching towards a knowledge of what he [_i.e._ shakespeare] is. in some respects they have acquired a superiority over the fellow-countrymen of the poet; for among us, it is a common--i might say an established--opinion that shakespeare is justly praised when he is pronounced to be "a wild irregular genius in whom great faults are compensated by great beauties." how long may it be before this misconception passes away and it becomes universally acknowledged that the judgment of shakespeare . . . is not less admirable than his imagination? . . .' { } cf. _wilhelm meister_. { a} cf. _jahrbuch der deutsche shakespeare-gesellschaft_ for . { b} _ibid._ , p. . { } the exact statistics for and were: 'othello,' acted and times for the respective years; 'hamlet,' and ; 'romeo and juliet,' and ; 'taming of the shrew,' and ; 'the merchant of venice,' and ; 'a midsummer night's dream,' and ; 'a winter's tale,' and ; 'much ado about nothing,' and ; 'lear,' and ; 'as you like it,' and ; 'comedy of errors,' and ; 'julius caesar,' and ; 'macbeth,' and ; 'timon of athens,' and ; 'the tempest,' and ; 'antony and cleopatra,' and ; 'coriolanus,' and ; 'cymbeline,' and ; 'richard ii,' and ; 'henry iv,' part i, and , part ii, and ; 'henry v,' and ; 'henry vi,' part i, and , part ii, and ; 'richard iii,' and (_jahrbuch der deutsche shakespeare-gesellschaft_ for , pp. seq., and for , pp. seq.) { a} jusserand, _a french ambassador_, p. . { b} cf. al. schmidt, _voltaire's verdienst von der einfuhrung shakespeare's in frankreich_, konigsberg, . { a} frederic melchior, baron grimm ( - ), for some years a friend of rousseau and the correspondent of diderot and the _encyclopedistes_, scattered many appreciative references to shakespeare in his voluminous _correspondance litteraire philosophique et critique_, extending over the period - , the greater part of which was published in vols. - . { b} _melanges historiques_, ?, iii. - . { c} _ibid._ , iii. - . { a} very interesting comments on these performances appeared day by day in the paris newspaper _le globe_. they were by charles magnin, who reprinted them in his _causeries et meditations historiques et litteraires_ (paris, , ii. et seq.) { b} cf. lacroix, _histoire de l'influence de shakespeare sur le theatre francais_, ; _edinburgh review_; , pp. - ; elze, _essays_, pp. seq.; m. jusserand, _shakespeare en france sous l'ancien regime_, paris, . { } cf. giovanni andres, _dell' origine_, _progressi e stato attuale d' ogni letteratura_, . { a} cf. _new shaksp. soc. trans._ - , pt. ii. seq. { b} cf. _ungarische revue_ (budapest) jan. , pp. - ; and august greguss's shakspere . . . elso kotet: shakspere palyaja budapest, (an account in hungarian of shakespeare's life and works). { } cf. _macmillan's magazine_, may . { } compiled between and ; first printed in _letters from the bodleian library_, , and admirably re-edited for the clarendon press during the present year by the rev. andrew clark ( vols.) { } see pp. - . { } the earliest attempts at a concordance were _a complete verbal index to the plays_, by f. twiss ( ), and _an index to the remarkable passages and words_ by samuel ayscough ( ), but these are now superseded. { a} jordan's _collections_, including this fraudulent will of shakespeare's father, was printed privately by j. o. halliwell-phillipps in . { b} see p. . { a} reference has already been made to the character of the manuscript corrections made by collier in a copy of the second folio of , known as the perkins folio. see p. , note . the chief authorities on the subject of the collier forgeries are: _an inquiry into the genuineness of the manuscript corrections in mr. j. payne collier's annotated shakspere folio_, _ _, _and of certain shaksperian documents likewise published by mr. collier_, by n. e. s. a. hamilton, london, ; _a complete view of the shakespeare controversy concerning the authenticity and genuineness of manuscript matter affecting the works and biography of shakspere_, _published by j. payne collier as the fruits of his researches_, by c. m. ingleby, ll.d. of trinity college, cambridge, london, ; _catalogue of the manuscripts and muniments of alleyn's college of god's gift at dulwich_, by george f. warner, m.a., ; _notes on the life of james payne collier_, _with a complete list of his works and an account of such shakespeare documents as are believed to be spurious_, by henry b. wheatley, london, . { b} see _calendar of state papers_, domestic, - , p. . { a} see warners _catalogue of dulwich mss._ pp. - . { b} cf. _ibid._ pp. - . { a} see p. , note i. { b} cf. warner's _dulwich mss._ pp. - . { c} see p. , note i. { } most of those that are commonly quoted are phrases in ordinary use by all writers of the day. the only point of any interest raised in the argument from parallelisms of expression centres about a quotation from aristotle which bacon and shakespeare not merely both make, but make in what looks at a first glance to be the same erroneous form. aristotle wrote in his _nicomachean ethics_, i. , that young men were unfitted for the study of _political_ philosophy. bacon, in the _advancement of learning_ ( ), wrote: 'is not the opinion of aristotle worthy to be regarded wherein he saith that young men are not fit auditors of _moral_ philosophy?' (bk. ii. p. , ed. kitchin). shakespeare, about , in _troilus and cressida_, ii. ii. , wrote of 'young men whom aristotle thought unfit to hear _moral_ philosophy.' but the alleged error of substituting _moral_ for _political_ philosophy in aristotle's text is more apparent than real. by 'political' philosophy aristotle, as his context amply shows, meant the ethics of civil society, which are hardly distinguishable from what is commonly called 'morals.' in the summary paraphrase of aristotle's _ethics_ which was translated into english from the italian, and published in , the passage to which both shakespeare and bacon refer is not rendered literally, but its general drift is given as a warning that moral philosophy is not a fit subject for study by youths who are naturally passionate and headstrong. such an interpretation of aristotle's language is common among sixteenth and seventeenth century writers. erasmus, in the epistle at the close of his popular _colloquia_ (florence, , sig. q q), wrote of his endeavour to insinuate serious precepts 'into the minds of young men whom aristotle rightly described as unfit auditors of moral philosophy' ('in animos adolescentium, quos recte scripsit aristoteles inidoneos auditores ethicae philosophiae'). in a french translation of the _ethics_ by the comte de plessis, published at paris in , the passage is rendered 'parquoy le ieune enfant n'est suffisant auditeur de la science civile;' and an english commentator (in a manuscript note written about in a copy of the book in the british museum) turned the sentence into english thus: 'whether a young man may bee a fitte scholler of _morall_ philosophie.' in an italian essayist, virgilio malvezzi, in his preface to his _discorsi sopra cornelio tacito_, has the remark, 'e non e discordante da questa mia opinione aristotele, it qual dice, che i giovani non sono buoni ascultatori delle _morali_' (cf. spedding, _works of bacon_, i. , iii. ). { } cf. birch, _letters of bacon_, , p. . a foolish suggestion has been made that matthew was referring to francis bacon's brother anthony, who died in ; matthew was writing of a man who was alive more than twenty years later. { } cf. _life_ by theodore bacon, london, . { a} see pp. , , . { b} see p. . { a} gervase markham, _honour in his perfection_, . { b} _loseley mss._ ed. a. j. kempe, p. . { c} his mother, after thirteen years of widowhood, married in sir thomas heneage, vice chamberlain of queen elizabeth's household; but he died within a year, and in she took a third husband, sir william hervey, who distinguished himself in military service in ireland and was created a peer as lord hervey by james i. { a} by kind permission of the marquis of salisbury i lately copied out this essay at hatfield. { b} in his brother-in-law, thomas arundel, afterwards first lord arundel of wardour (husband of his only sister, mary), petitioned lord burghley to grant him an additional tract of the new forest about his house at beaulieu. although in his 'nonage,' arundel wrote, the earl was by no means 'of the smallest hope.' arundel, with almost prophetic insight, added that the earl of pembroke was southampton's 'most feared rival' in the competition for the land in question. arundel was referring to the father of that third earl of pembroke who, despite the absence of evidence, has been described as shakespeare's friend of the sonnets (cf. _calendar of hatfield mss._ iii. ). { a} cf. _apollinis et musarum [greek text]_, oxford, , reprinted in _elizabethan oxford_ (oxford historical society), edited by charles plummer, xxix. : _comes_ post hunc (_i.e._ earl of essex) _south-_ insequitur clara de stirpe dynasta _hamp-_ iure suo diues quem south-hamptonia _toniae_. magnum vendicat heroem; quo non formosior alter affuit, ant docta iuuenis praestantior arte; ora licet tenera vix dum lanugine vernent. { b} historical mss. commission, th report (appendix) p. b. { } peele's _anglorum feriae_. { } _cal. of the duke of rutland's mss._ i. . barnabe barnes, who was one of southampton's poetic admirers, addressed a crude sonnet to 'the beautiful lady, the lady bridget manners,' in , at the same time as he addressed one to southampton. both are appended to barnes's collection of sonnets and other poems entitled _parthenophe and parthenophil_ (cf. arber's _garner_, v. ). barnes apostrophises lady bridget as 'fairest and sweetest' of all those sweet and fair flowers, the pride of chaste cynthia's [_i.e._ queen elizabeth's] rich crown. { } see p. , note . { a} the original letter is at hatfield. the whole is printed in historical manuscripts commission, rd rep. p. . { b} the quotation is a confused reminiscence of falstaff's remarks in i _henry iv_. ii. iv. the last nine words are an exact quotation of lines - . { c} _sidney papers_, ii. . { d} see p. . { a} see nash's _works_, ed. grosart, v. . the whole passage runs: 'how wel or ill i haue done in it i am ignorant: (the eye that sees round about it selfe sees not into it selfe): only your honours applauding encouragement hath power to make me arrogant. incomprehensible is the height of your spirit both in heroical resolution and matters of conceit. vnrepriuebly perisheth that booke whatsoeuer to wast paper, which on the diamond rocke of your judgement disasterly chanceth to be shipwrackt. a dere louer and cherisher you are, as well of the louers of poets, as of poets them selues. amongst their sacred number i dare not ascribe my selfe, though now and then i speak english: that smal braine i haue, to no further vse i conuert saue to be kinde to my frends, and fatall to my enemies. a new brain, a new wit, a new stile, a new soule will i get mee to canonize your name to posteritie, if in this my first attempt i am not taxed of presumption. of your gracious fauer i despaire not, for i am not altogether fames out-cast . . . your lordship is the large spreading branch of renown, from whence these my idle leaues seeke to deriue their whole nourishing.' { b} the complimentary title of 'amyntas,' which was naturalised in english literature by abraham fraunce's two renderings of tasso's _aminta_--one direct from the italian and the other from the latin version of thomas watson--was apparently bestowed by spenser on the earl of derby in his _colin clouts come home againe_ ( ); and some critics assume that nash referred in _pierce pennilesse_ to that nobleman rather than to southampton. but nash's comparison of his paragon to ganymede suggests extreme youth, and southampton was nineteen in while derby was thirty-three. 'amyntas' as a complimentary designation was widely used by the poets, and was not applied exclusively to any one patron of letters. it was bestowed on the poet watson by richard barnfield and by other of watson's panegyrists. { } two manuscript copies of the poem, which has not been printed, are extant--one among the rawlinson poetical manuscripts in the bodleian library, and the other among the manuscripts in the inner temple library (no. ). mr. john s. farmer has kindly sent me transcripts of the opening and concluding dedicatory sonnets. the first, which is inscribed 'to the right honorable the lord s[outhampton]' runs: pardon, sweete flower of matchles poetrye, and fairest bud the red rose euer bare, although my muse, devorst from deeper care, presents thee with a wanton elegie. ne blame my verse of loose unchastitye for painting forth the things that hidden are, since all men act what i in speeche declare, onlie induced with varietie. complaints and praises, every one can write, and passion out their pangs in statlie rimes; but of loues pleasures none did euer write, that have succeeded in theis latter times. accept of it, deare lord, in gentle parte, and better lines, ere long shall honor thee. the poem follows in about three hundred lines, and the manuscript ends with a second sonnet addressed by nash to his patron: thus hath my penne presum'd to please my friend. oh mightst thou lykewise please apollo's eye. no, honor brookes no such impietie, yet ovid's wanton muse did not offend. he is the fountaine whence my streames do flowe-- forgive me if i speak as i was taught; alike to women, utter all i knowe, as longing to unlade so bad a fraught. my mynde once purg'd of such lascivious witt, with purified words and hallowed verse, thy praises in large volumes shall rehearse. that better maie thy grauer view befitt. meanwhile ytt rests, you smile at what i write or for attempting banish me your sight. tho. nash. { a} daniel's _certaine epistles_, : see daniel's _works_, ed. grosart, i. seq. { b} see preface to davies's _microcosmos_, (davies's _works_, ed. grosart, i. ). at the end of davies's _microcosmos_ there is also a congratulatory sonnet addressed to southampton on his liberation (_ib._ p. ), beginning: welcome to shore, unhappy-happy lord, from the deep seas of danger and distress. there like thou wast to be thrown overboard in every storm of discontentedness. { } 'amours of j. d.' were doubtless sonnets by sir john davies, of which only a few have reached us. there is no ground for j. p. collier's suggestion that j. d. was a misprint for m. d., _i.e._ michael drayton, who gave the first edition of his sonnets in the title of _amours_. that word was in france the common designation of collections of sonnets (cf. drayton's _poems_, ed. collier, roxburghe club, p. xxv). { } see note to p. _supra_. { a} the details of his career are drawn from mr. arber's _transcript of the registers of the stationers' company_. { b} arber, ii. . { c} _ib._ ii. . { d} a younger brother, richard, was apprenticed to a stationer, martin ensor, for seven years from august , , but he disappeared before gaining the freedom of the company, either dying young or seeking another occupation (cf. arber's _transcript_, ii. ). { e} cf. _bibliographica_, i. - , where i have given an account of blount's professional career in a paper called 'an elizabethan bookseller.' { a} thorpe gives a sarcastic description of a typical patron, and amply attests the purely commercial relations ordinarily subsisting between dedicator and dedicatee. 'when i bring you the book,' he advises blount, 'take physic and keep state. assign me a time by your man to come again. . . . censure scornfully enough and somewhat like a traveller. commend nothing lest you discredit your (that which you would seem to have) judgment. . . . one special virtue in our patrons of these days i have promised myself you shall fit excellently, which is to give nothing.' finally thorpe, changing his tone, challenges his patron's love 'both in this and, i hope, many more succeeding offices.' { b} one gave an account of the east india company's fleet; the other reported a speech delivered by richard martin, m.p., to james i at stamford hill during the royal progress to london. { a} _calendar of state papers_, domestic series, , p. . { b} two bore his name on the title-page in ; one in ; two in ; two in ; two in ; three in ; one in (_i.e._ the _sonnets_); three in (_i.e._ _histrio-mastix_, _or the playwright_, as well as healey's translations); two in ; one in ; three in ; two in ; two in ; one in ; and finally one in . the last was a new edition of george chapman's _conspiracie and tragedie of charles duke of byron_, which thorpe first published in . { c} they were _wits a.b.c. or a centurie of epigrams_ (anon.), by r. west of magdalen college, oxford (a copy is in the bodleian library); chapman's _byron_, and jonson's _masques of blackness and beauty_. { d} chapman and jonson were very voluminous authors, and their works were sought after by almost all the publishers of london, many of whom were successful in launching one or two with or without the author's sanction. thorpe seems to have taken particular care with jonson's books, but none of jonson's works fell into thorpe's hands before or after , a minute fraction of jonson's literary life. it is significant that the author's dedication--the one certain mark of publication with the author's sanction--appears in only one of the three plays by chapman that thorpe issued, viz. in _byron_. one or two copies of thorpe's impression of _all fools_ have a dedication by the author, but it is absent from most of them. no known copy of thorpe's edition of chapman's _gentleman usher_ has any dedication. { } many other instances of initials figuring in dedications under slightly different circumstances will occur to bibliographers, but all, on examination, point to the existence of a close intimacy between dedicator and dedicatee. r. s.'s [_i.e._ possibly richard stafford's] 'epistle dedicatorie' before his _heraclitus_ (oxford, ) was inscribed 'to his much honoured father s. f. s.' _an apologie for women_, _or an opposition to mr. d. g. his assertion_ . . . _by w. h. of ex. in ox._ (oxford, ), was dedicated to 'the honourable and right vertuous ladie, the ladie m. h.' this volume, published in the same year as shakespeare's _sonnets_, offers a pertinent example of the generous freedom with which initials were scattered over the preliminary pages of books of the day. { } in the volume of the words run: 'to the noble and valorous gentleman master robert dudley, enriched with all vertues of the minde and worthy of all honorable desert. your most affectionate and devoted michael drayton.' { a} in , in dedicating _st. augustine_, _of the citie of god_ to the earl of pembroke, thorpe awkwardly describes the subject-matter as 'a desired citie sure in heaven,' and assigns to 'st. augustine and his commentator vives' a 'savour of the secular.' in the same year, in dedicating _epictetus his manuall_ to florio, he bombastically pronounces the book to be 'the hand to philosophy; the instrument of instruments; as nature greatest in the least; as homer's _ilias_ in a nutshell; in lesse compasse more cunning.' for other examples of thorpe's pretentious, half-educated and ungrammatical style, see p. , note . { b} the suggestion is often made that the only parallel to thorpe's salutation of happiness is met with in george wither's _abuses whipt and stript_ (london, ). there the dedicatory epistle is prefaced by the ironical salutation 'to himselfe g. w. wisheth all happinesse.' it is further asserted that wither had probably thorpe's dedication to 'mr. w. h.' in view when he wrote that satirical sentence. it will now be recognised that wither aimed very gently at no identifiable book, but at a feature common to scores of books. since his _abuses_ was printed by george eld and sold by francis burton--the printer and publisher concerned in in the publication of 'w. h.'s' southwell manuscript--there is a bare chance that wither had in mind 'w. h.'s' greeting of mathew saunders, but fifty recently published volumes would have supplied him with similar hints. { a} thorpe dedicated to florio _epictetus his manuall_, _and cebes his table_, _out of greek originall by io. healey_, . he dedicated to the earl of pembroke _st. augustine_, _of the citie of god_ . . . _englished by i. h._, , and a second edition of healey's _epictetus_, . { b} southwell's _foure-fould meditation_ of is a book of excessive rarity, only one complete printed copy having been met with in our time. a fragment of the only other printed copy known is now in the british museum. the work was reprinted in , chiefly from an early copy in manuscript, by mr. charles edmonds, the accomplished bibliographer, who in a letter to the _athenaeum_, on november , , suggested for the first time the identity of 'w. h.,' the dedicator of southwell's poem, with thorpe's 'mr. w. h.' { } a manuscript volume at oscott college contains a contemporary copy of those poems by southwell which 'unfained affectionate w.h.' first gave to the printing press. the owner of the oscott volume, peter mowle or moulde (as he indifferently spells his name), entered on the first page of the manuscript in his own handwriting an 'epistel dedicatorie' which he confined to the conventional greeting of happiness here and hereafter. the words ran: 'to the right worshipfull mr. thomas knevett esquire, peter mowle wisheth the perpetuytie of true felysitie, the health of bodie and soule with continwance of worshipp in this worlde. and after death the participation of heavenlie happiness dewringe all worldes for ever.' { a} a bookseller (not a printer), william holmes, who was in business for himself between and , was the only other member of the stationers' company bearing at the required dates the initials of 'w. h.' but he was ordinarily known by his full name, and there is no indication that he had either professional or private relations with thorpe. { b} most of his dedications are penned in a loose diction of pretentious bombast which it is difficult to interpret exactly. when dedicating in --the year after the issue of the _sonnets_--healey's _epictetus his manuall_ 'to a true fauorer of forward spirits, maister john florio,' thorpe writes of epictetus's work: 'in all languages, ages, by all persons high prized, imbraced, yea inbosomed. it filles not the hand with leaues, but fills ye head with lessons: nor would bee held in hand but had by harte to boote. he is more senceless than a stocke that hath no good sence of this stoick.' in the same year, when dedicating healey's translation of st. augustine's _citie of god_ to the earl of pembroke, thorpe clumsily refers to pembroke's patronage of healey's earlier efforts in translation thus: 'he that against detraction beyond expectation, then found your sweete patronage in a matter of small moment without distrust or disturbance, in this work of more weight, as he approoued his more abilitie, so would not but expect your honours more acceptance.' { } this is the sense allotted to the word in the great variorum edition of by malone's disciple, james boswell the younger, who, like his master, was a bibliographical expert of the highest authority. the fact that the eighteenth-century commentators--men like malone and steevens--who were thoroughly well versed in the literary history of the sixteenth century, should have failed to recognise any connection between 'mr. w. h.' and shakespeare's personal history is in itself a very strong argument against the interpretation foisted on the dedication during the present century by writers who have no pretensions to be reckoned the equals of malone and steevens as literary archaeologists. { } james boaden, a journalist and the biographer of kemble and mrs. siddons, was the first to suggest the pembroke theory in a letter to the _gentleman's magazine_ in . a few months later mr. james heywood bright wrote to the magazine claiming to have reached the same conclusion as early as , although he had not published it. boaden re-stated the pembroke theory in a volume on _shakespeare's sonnets_ which he published in . c. armitage brown adopted it in in his _shakespeare's autobiographical poems_. the rev. joseph hunter, who accepted the theory without qualification, significantly pointed out in his _new illustrations of shakespeare_ in (ii. ) that it had not occurred to any of the writers in the great variorum editions of shakespeare, nor to critics so acute in matters of literary history as malone or george chalmers. the theory is treated as proved fact in many recent literary manuals. of its supporters at the date of writing the most ardent is mr. thomas tyler, who published an edition of the sonnets in , and there further advanced a claim to identify the 'dark lady' of the sonnets with mary fitton, a lady of the court and the earl of pembroke's mistress. mr. tyler has endeavoured to substantiate both the pembroke and the fitton theories, by merely repeating his original arguments, in a pamphlet which appeared in april of this year under the title of _the herbert-fitton theory_: _a reply_ [_i.e._ to criticisms of the theories by lady newdegate and by myself]. the pembroke theory, whose adherents have dwindled of late, will henceforth be relegated, i trust, to the category of popular delusions. { } cf. _sydney papers_, ed. collins, i. . 'my lord (of pembroke) himself with _my lord harbert_ (is) come up to see the queen' (rowland whyte to sir robert sydney, october , ), and again p. (november , ); and p. (december , ). john chamberlain wrote to sir dudley carleton on august , , '_young lord harbert_, sir henrie carie, and sir william woodhouse, are all in election at court, who shall set the best legge foremost.' _chamberlain's letters_ (camden soc.), p. { } thomas sackville, the author of the _induction_ to_ the mirror for magistrates_ and other poetical pieces, and part author of _gorboduc_, was born plain 'thomas sackville,' and was ordinarily addressed in youth as 'mr. sackville.' he wrote all his literary work while he bore that and no other designation. he subsequently abandoned literature for politics, and was knighted and created lord buckhurst. very late in life, in --at the age of sixty-eight--he became earl of dorset. a few of his youthful effusions, which bore his early signature, 'm. [_i.e._ mr.] sackville,' were reprinted with that signature unaltered in an encyclopaedic anthology, _england's parnassus_, which was published, wholly independently of him, in , after he had become baron buckhurst. about the same date he was similarly designated thomas or mr. sackville in a reprint, unauthorised by him, of his _induction_ to _the mirror for magistrates_, which was in the original text ascribed, with perfect correctness, to thomas or mr. sackville. there is clearly no sort of parallel (as has been urged) between such an explicable, and not unwarrantable, metachronism and the misnaming of the earl of pembroke 'mr. w. h.' as might be anticipated, persistent research affords no parallel for the latter irregularity. { } an examination of a copy of the book in the bodleian--none is in the british museum--shows that the dedication is signed j. h., and not, as mr. fleay infers, by thorpe. thorpe had no concern in this volume. { } on january , - , one sir henry colte was indicted for slander in the star chamber for addressing a peer, lord morley, as 'goodman morley.' a technical defect--the omission of the precise date of the alleged offence--in the bill of indictment led to a dismissal of the cause. see _les reportes del cases in camera stellata_, to , edited from the manuscript of henry hawarde by w. p. baildon, f.s.a. (privately printed for alfred morrison), p. . { } see pp. , - . a tradition has lately sprung up at wilton to the effect that a letter once existed there in which the countess of pembroke bade her son the earl while he was in attendance on james i at salisbury bring the king to wilton to witness a performance of _as you like it_. the countess is said to have added, 'we have the man shakespeare with us.' no tangible evidence of the existence of the letter is forthcoming, and its tenor stamps it, if it exists, as an ignorant invention. the circumstances under which both king and players visited wilton in are completely misrepresented. the court temporarily occupied wilton house, and shakespeare and his comrades were ordered by the officers of the royal household to give a performance there in the same way as they would have been summoned to play before the king had he been at whitehall. it is hardly necessary to add that the countess of pembroke's mode of referring to literary men is well known: she treated them on terms of equality, and could not in any aberration of mind or temper have referred to shakespeare as 'the man shakespeare.' similarly, the present earl of pembroke purchased of a london picture-dealer last year what purported to be a portrait of the third earl of pembroke, and on the back was pasted a paper, that was represented to date from the seventeenth century, containing some lines from shakespeare's sonnet lxxxi. ( - ), subscribed with the words 'shakespeare unto the earl of pembroke, ' the ink and handwriting are quite modern, and hardly make pretence to be of old date in the eyes of any one accustomed to study manuscripts. on may of this year some persons interested in the matter, including myself, examined the portrait and the inscription, on the kind invitation of the present earl, and the inscription was unanimously declared by palmographical experts to be a clumsy forgery unworthy of serious notice. { } cf. the engravings of simon pass, stent, and vandervoerst, after the portrait by mytens. { } it is unnecessary, after what has been said above (p. ), to consider seriously the suggestion that the 'dark lady' of the sonnets was mary fitton, maid of honour to queen elizabeth. this frolicsome lady, who was at one time pembroke's mistress and bore him a child, has been introduced into a discussion of the sonnets only on the assumption that her lover, pembroke, was the youth to whom the sonnets were addressed. lady newdegate's recently published _gossip from a muniment room_, which furnishes for the first time a connected biography of pembroke's mistress, adequately disposes of any lingering hope that shakespeare may have commemorated her in his black-complexioned heroine. lady newdegate states that two well-preserved portraits of mary fitton remain at arbury, and that they reveal a lady of fair complexion with brown hair and grey eyes. family history places the authenticity of the portraits beyond doubt, and the endeavour lately made by mr. tyler, the chief champion of the hopeless fitton theory, to dispute their authenticity is satisfactorily met by mr. c. o. bridgeman in an appendix to the second edition of lady newdegate's book. we also learn from lady newdegate's volume that miss fitton, during her girlhood, was pestered by the attentions of a middle-aged admirer, a married friend of the family, sir william knollys. it has been lamely suggested by some of the supporters of the pembroke theory that sir william knollys was one of the persons named will who are alleged to be noticed as competitors with shakespeare and the supposititious 'will herbert' for 'the dark lady's' favours in the sonnets (cxxxv., cxxxvi., and perhaps clxiii.) but that is a shot wholly out of range. the wording of those sonnets, when it is thoroughly tested, proves beyond reasonable doubt that the poet was the only lover named will who is represented as courting the disdainful lady of the sonnets, and that no reference whatever is made there to any other person of that christian name. { } professor dowden (_sonnets_, p. xxxv) writes: 'it appears from the punning sonnets (cxxxv. and cxliii.) that the christian name of shakspere's friend was the same as his own, _will_,' and thence is deduced the argument that the friend could only be identical with one who, like william earl of pembroke, bore that christian name. { a} ed. mayor, p. . { b} manningham's _diary_, p. ; cf. barnabe barnes's _odes pastoral_ sestine : 'but women will have their own wills, alas, why then should i complain?' { } besides punning words, printers of poetry in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries made an effort to italicise proper names, unfamiliar words, and words deemed worthy of special emphasis. but they did not strictly adhere to these rules, and, while they often failed to italicise the words that deserved italicisation, they freely italicised others that did not merit it. capital initial letters were employed with like irregularity. mr. wyndham in his careful note on the typography of the quarto of (pp. seq.) suggests that elizabethan printers were not erratic in their uses of italics or capital letters, but an examination of a very large number of elizabethan and jacobean books has brought me to an exactly opposite conclusion. { } barnes's _parthenophil_ in arber's _garner_, v. . { a} after quibbling in sonnet lxxii. on the resemblance between the _graces_ of his cruel mistress's face and the _graces_ of classical mythology, barnes develops the topic in the next sonnet after this manner (the italics are my own): why did rich nature _graces_ grant to thee, since thou art such a niggard of thy _grace_? o how can _graces_ in thy body be? where neither they nor pity find a place! . . . grant me some _grace_! for thou with _grace_ art wealthy and kindly may'st afford some _gracious_ thing. { b} cf. _lear_, iv. vi. , 'o undistinguish'd space of woman's will;' _i.e._ 'o boundless range of woman's lust.' { c} professor dowden says 'will to boot' is a reference to the christian name of shakespeare's friend, 'william [? mr. w. h.]' (_sonnets_, p. ); but in my view the poet, in the second line of the sonnet, only seeks emphasis by repetition in accordance with no uncommon practice of his. the line 'and will to boot, and will in over-plus,' is paralleled in its general form and intention in such lines of other sonnets as kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind (cv. ). beyond all date, even to eternity (cxxii. ). who art as black as hell, as dark as night (cxlvii. ). in all these instances the second half of the line merely repeats the first half with a slight intensification. { a} cf. barnes's sonnet lxxiii.: all her looks _gracious_, yet no _grace_ do bring to me, poor wretch! yet be the _graces_ there. { b} shakespeare refers to the blindness, the 'sightless view' of the soul, in sonnet xxvii., and apostrophises the soul as the 'centre of his sinful earth' in sonnet cxlvi. { a} the use of the word 'fulfil' in this and the next line should be compared with barnes's introduction of the word in a like context in the passage given above: since what she lists her heart _fulfils_. { b} mr. tyler paraphrases these lines thus: 'you love your other admirer named will. love the name alone, and then you love me, for my name is will,' p. . professor dowden, hardly more illuminating, says the lines mean: 'love only my name (something less than loving myself), and then thou lovest me, for my name is will, and i myself am all will, _i.e._ all desire.' { } the word 'will' is not here italicised in the original edition of shakespeare's sonnets, and there is no ground whatever for detecting in it any sort of pun. the line resembles barnes's line quoted above: mine heart bound martyr to thy wills. { } because 'will' by what is almost certainly a typographical accident is here printed _will_ in the first edition of the sonnets, professor dowden is inclined to accept a reference to the supposititious friend will, and to believe the poet to pray that the lady may have her will, _i.e._ the friend 'will [? w. h.]' this interpretation seems to introduce a needless complication. { a} see p. _supra_. { b} the word 'sonnet' was often irregularly used for 'song' or 'poem.' a proper sonnet in clement robinson's poetical anthology, _a handefull of pleasant delites_, , is a lyric in ten four-line alternatively rhymed stanzas. neither barnabe googe's _eglogs_, _epyttaphes_, _and sonnettes_, , nor george turbervile's _epitaphes_, _epigrams_, _songs and sonets_, , contains a single fourteen-lined poem. the french word 'quatorzain' was the term almost as frequently applied as 'sonnet' to the fourteen-line stanza in regular sonnet form, which alone falls within my survey. watson is congratulated on 'scaling the skies in lofty _quatorzains_' in verses before his _passionate centurie_, ; cf. 'crazed quatorzains' in thomas nash's preface to his edition of sidney's _astrophel and stella_, ; and _amours in quatorzains_ on the title-page of the first edition of drayton's _sonnets_, . { a} see p. _supra_. { b} all watson's sonnets are reprinted by mr. arber in watson's _poems_, . { a} in a preface to newman's first edition of _astrophel and stella_ the editor, thomas nash, in a burst of exultation over what he deemed the surpassing merits of sidney's sonnets, exclaimed: 'put out your rushlights, you poets and rhymers! and bequeath your crazed quatorzains to the chandlers! for lo, here he cometh that hath broken your legs.' but the effect of sidney's work was just the opposite to that which nash anticipated. it gave the sonnet in england a vogue that it never enjoyed before or since. { b} with collections of sonnets of the first kind are occasionally interspersed sonnets of the second or third class, but i classify each sonnet-collection according to its predominant characteristic. { c} daniel reprinted all but nine of the sonnets that had been unwarrantably appended to sidney's _astrophel_. these nine he permanently dropped. { } it is reprinted in arber's _garner_, ii. - . { a} arber's _garner_, v. - . { b} ben jonson developed the same conceit in his masque, _the hue and cry after cupid_, . { a} dekker's well-known song, 'oh, sweet content,' in his play of 'patient grisselde' ( ), echoes this sonnet of barnes. { b} arber's _garner_, viii. - . { c} there is a convenient reprint of lodge's _phillis in elizabethan sonnet-cycles_ by martha foote crow, . { a} see p. , note. { b} arber's _garner_, vi. - . { c} _ib._ v. - . { d} reprinted in arber's _english scholars' library_, . { e} it was licensed for the press on november , . { a} reprinted for the roxburghe club in _a lamport garland_, , edited by mr. charles edmonds. { b} sir john davies's _complete poems_, edited by dr. grosart, i. - . { c} see p. , note. { a} arber's _garner_, vii. - . { b} _ib._ v. - . { c} cf. brydges's _excerpta tudoriana_, , i. - . one was printed with some alterations in rosseter's _book of ayres_ ( ), and another in the _third book of ayres_ ( ?); see campion's works, ed. a. h. bullen, pp. - , . { d} arber's _garner_, viii. - . { a} see p. and note. { b} practically to the same category as these collections of sonnets belong the voluminous laments of lovers, in six, eight, or ten lined stanzas, which, though not in strict sonnet form, closely resemble in temper the sonnet-sequences. such are _willobie's avisa_, ; _alcilia_: _philoparthen's loving folly_, by j. c., ; _arbor of amorous deuices_, (containing two regular sonnets), by nicholas breton; _alba_, _the months minde of a melancholy lover_, by robert tofte, ; _daiphantus_, _or the passions of love_, by anthony scoloker, ; breton's _the passionate shepheard_, _or the shepheardes loue_: _set downe in passions to his shepheardesse aglaia_: _with many excellent conceited poems and pleasant sonets fit for young heads to passe away idle houres_, (none of the 'sonets' are in sonnet metre); and john reynolds's _dolarnys primerose_ . . . _wherein is expressed the liuely passions of zeale and loue_, . though george wither's similar productions--his exquisitely fanciful _fidelia_ ( ) and his _faire-virtue_, _the mistresse of phil' arete_ ( )--were published at a later period, they were probably designed in the opening years of the seventeenth century. { a} they were first printed in , seven years after the author's death, in _poems by that famous wit_, _william drummond_, london, fol. the volume was edited by edward phillips, milton's nephew. the best modern edition is that edited by mr w. c. ward in the 'muses' library ( ). { b} cf. william browne's _poems_ in 'muses' library ( ), ii. et seq. { } chapman imitated spenser by appending fourteen like sonnets to his translation of homer in ; they were increased in later issues to twenty-two. very numerous sonnets to patrons were appended by john davies of hereford to his _microcosmos_ ( ) and to his _scourge of folly_ ( ). 'divers sonnets, epistles, &c.' addressed to patrons by joshua sylvester between and his death in were collected in the edition of his _du bartas his divine weekes and workes_. { a} remy belleau in brought out a similar poetical version of the book of ecclesiastes entitled _vanite_. { b} there are forty-eight sonnets on the trinity and similar topics appended to davies's _wittes pilgrimage_ ( ?). { a} graphic illustrations of the attitude of ronsard and his friends to a greek poet like anacreon appear in _anacreon et les poemes anacreontiques_, _texte grec avec les traductions et imitations des poetes du xvie siecle_, par a. delboulle (havre, ). a translation of anacreon by remy belleau appeared in . cf. sainte-beuve's essay, 'anacreon au xvie siecle,' in his _tableau de la poesie francaise au xvie siecle_ ( ), pp. - . in the same connection _recueil des plus beaux epigrammes grecs_, _mis en vers francois_, par pierre tamisier (edit. ), is of interest. { b} italy was the original home of the sonnet, and it was as popular a poetic form with italian writers of the sixteenth century as with those of the three preceding centuries. the italian poets whose sonnets, after those of petrarch, were best known in england and france in the later years of the sixteenth century were serafino dell' aquila ( - ), jacopo sannazzaro ( - ), agnolo firenzuola ( - ), cardinal bembo ( - ), gaspara stampa ( - ), pietro aretino ( - ), bernardo tasso ( - ), luigi tansillo ( - ), gabriello fiamma (_d._ ), torquato tasso ( - ), luigi groto (_fl._ ), giovanni battista guarini ( - ), and giovanni battista marino ( - ) (cf. tiraboschi's _storia della letteratura italiana_, - ; dr. garnett's _history of italian literature_, ; and symonds's _renaissance in italy_, edit. , vols. iv. and vi.) the notes to watson's _passionate centurie of love_, published in (see p. , note), to davison's _poetical rhapsody_, edited by mr. a. h. bullen in , and to the _poems of drummond of hawthornden_, edited by mr. w. c. ward in , give many illustrations of english sonnetteers' indebtedness to serafino, groto, marino, guarini, tasso, and other italian sonnetteers of the sixteenth century. { } there are modern reprints of most of these books, but not of all. there is a good reprint of ronsard's works, edited by m. p. blanchemain, in _la bibliotheque elzevirienne_, vols. ; the _etude sur la vie de ronsard_, in the eighth volume, is useful. the works of remy belleau are issued in the same series. the writings of the seven original members of 'la pleiade' are reprinted in _la pleiade francaise_, edited by marty-laveaux, vols., - . maurice seve's _delie_ was reissued at lyons in . pierre de brach's poems were carefully edited by reinhold dezeimeris ( vols., paris, ). a complete edition of desportes's works, edited by alfred michiels, appeared in . prosper blanchemain edited a reissue of the works of louise labe in . the works of jean de la taille, of amadis jamyn, and of guillaume des autels are reprinted in _tresor des vieux poetes francais_ ( et annis seq.) see sainte-beuve's _tableau historique et critique de la poesie francaise du xvie siecle_ (paris, ); henry francis cary's _early french poets_ (london, ); becq de fouquieres' _oeuvres choisies des poetes francais du xvie siecle contemporains avec ronsard_ ( ), and the same editor's selections from de baif, du bellay, and ronsard; darmesteter et hatzfeld's _le seizieme siecle en france_--_tableau de la litterature et de la langue_ ( th edit., ); and petit de julleville's _histoire de la langue et de la litterature francaise_ ( , iii. - ). memoirs of the life of the rt. hon. richard brinsley sheridan by thomas moore in two volumes vol. ii. [illustration] contents to vol. ii. chapter i. impeachment of mr. hastings. chapter ii. death of mr. sheridan's father.--verses by mrs. sheridan on the death of her sister, mrs. tickell. chapter iii. illness of the king.--regency.--private life of mr. sheridan. chapter iv. french revolution.--mr. burke.--his breach with mr. sheridan.--dissolution of parliament.--mr. burke and mr. fox.--russian armament.--royal scotch boroughs. chapter v. death of mrs. sheridan. chapter vi. drury-lane theatre.--society of "the friends of the people."--madame de genlis.--war with france.--whig seceders.--speeches in parliament--death of tickell. chapter vii. speech in answer to lord mornington.--coalition of the whig seceders with mr. pitt.--mr. canning.--evidence on the trial of horne tooke.--the "glorious first of june."--marriage of mr. sheridan.--pamphlet of mr. reeves--debts of the prince of wales.--shakspeare manuscripts.--trial of stone.--mutiny at the nore.--secession of mr. fox from parliament. chapter viii. play of "the stranger."--speeches in parliament.--pizarro.--ministry of mr. addington.--french institute.--negotiations with mr. kemble. chapter ix. state of parties.--offer of a place to mr. t. sheridan.--receivership of the duchy of cornwall bestowed upon mr. sheridan.--return of mr. pitt to power.--catholic question.--administration of lord grenville and mr. fox.--death of mr. fox.--representation of westminster.--dismission of the ministry.--theatrical negotiation.--spanish question.--letter to the prince. chapter x. destruction of the theatre of drury-lane by fire.--mr. whitbread--plan for a third theatre.--illness of the king.--regency.--lord grey and lord grenville.--conduct of mr. sheridan.--his vindication of himself. chapter xi. affairs of the new theatre.--mr. whitbread.--negotiations with lord grey and lord grenville.--conduct of mr. sheridan relative to the household.--his last words in parliament.--failure at stafford. --correspondence with mr. whitbread.--lord byron.--distresses of sheridan.--illness.--death and funeral.--general remarks. memoirs of the life of the right honorable richard brinsley sheridan. chapter i. impeachment of mr. hastings. the motion of mr. burke on the th of may, , "that warren hastings, esq., be impeached," having been carried without a division, mr. sheridan was appointed one of the managers, "to make good the articles" of the impeachment, and, on the d of june in the following year, brought forward the same charge in westminster hall which he had already enforced with such wonderful talent in the house of commons. to be called upon for a second great effort of eloquence, on a subject of which all the facts and the bearings remained the same, was, it must be acknowledged, no ordinary trial to even the most fertile genius; and mr. fox, it is said, hopeless of any second flight ever rising to the grand elevation of the first, advised that the former speech should be, with very little change, repeated. but such a plan, however welcome it might be to the indolence of his friend, would have looked too like an acknowledgment of exhaustion on the subject to be submitted to by one so justly confident in the resources both of his reason and fancy. accordingly, he had the glory of again opening, in the very same field, a new and abundant spring of eloquence, which, during four days, diffused its enchantment among an assembly of the most illustrious persons of the land, and of which mr. burke pronounced at its conclusion, that "of all the various species of oratory, of every kind of eloquence that had been heard, either in ancient or modern times; whatever the acuteness of the bar, the dignity of the senate, or the morality of the pulpit could furnish, had not been equal to what that house had that day heard in westminster hall. no holy religionist, no man of any description as a literary character, could have come up, in the one instance, to the pure sentiments of morality, or in the other, to the variety of knowledge, force of imagination, propriety and vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of diction, and strength of expression, to which they had that day listened. from poetry up to eloquence there was not a species of composition of which a complete and perfect specimen might not have been culled, from one part or the other of the speech to which he alluded, and which, he was persuaded, had left too strong an impression on the minds of that house to be easily obliterated." as some atonement to the world for the loss of the speech in the house of commons, this second master-piece of eloquence on the same subject has been preserved to us in a report, from the short-hand notes of mr. gurney, which was for some time in the possession of the late duke of norfolk, but was afterwards restored to mr. sheridan, and is now in my hands. in order to enable the reader fully to understand the extracts from this report which i am about to give, it will be necessary to detail briefly the history of the transaction, on which the charge brought forward in the speech was founded. among the native princes who, on the transfer of the sceptre of tamerlane to the east india company, became tributaries or rather slaves to that honorable body, none seems to have been treated with more capricious cruelty than cheyte sing, the rajah of benares. in defiance of a solemn treaty, entered into between him and the government of mr. hastings, by which it was stipulated that, besides his fixed tribute, no further demands, of any kind, should be made upon him, new exactions were every year enforced;--while the humble remonstrances of the rajah against such gross injustice were not only treated with slight, but punished by arbitrary and enormous fines. even the proffer of bribe succeeded only in being accepted [footnote: this was the transaction that formed one of the principal grounds of the seventh charge brought forward in the house of commons by mr. sheridan. the suspicious circumstances attending this present are thus summed up by mr. mill: "at first, perfect concealment of the transaction--such measures, however, taken as may, if afterwards necessary, appear to imply a design of future disclosure;--when concealment becomes difficult and hazardous, then disclosure made."--_history of british india_.]--the exactions which it was intended to avert being continued as rigorously as before. at length, in the year , mr. hastings, who invariably, among the objects of his government, placed the interests of leadenhall street first on the list, and those of justice and humanity _longo intervallo_ after,--finding the treasury of the company in a very exhausted state, resolved to sacrifice this unlucky rajah to their replenishment; and having as a preliminary step, imposed upon him a mulct of £ , , set out immediately for his capital, benares, to compel the payment of it. here, after rejecting with insult the suppliant advances of the prince, he put him under arrest, and imprisoned him in his own palace. this violation of the rights and the roof of their sovereign drove the people of the whole province into a sudden burst of rebellion, of which mr. hastings himself was near being the victim. the usual triumph, however, of might over right ensued; the rajah's castle was plundered of all its treasures, and his mother, who had taken refuge in the fort, and only surrendered it on the express stipulation that she and the other princesses should pass out safe from the dishonor of search, was, in violation of this condition, and at the base suggestion of mr. hastings himself, [footnote: in his letter to the commanding officer at bidgegur. the following are the terms in which he conveys the hint: "i apprehend that she will contrive to defraud the captors of a considerable part of the booty, by being suffered to retire _without examination_. but this is your consideration, and not mine. i should be very sorry that your officers and soldiers lost any part of the reward to which they are so well entitled; but i cannot make any objection, as you must be the best judge of the expediency of the _promised_ indulgence to the rannee."] rudely examined and despoiled of all her effects. the governor-general, however, in this one instance, incurred the full odium of iniquity without reaping any of its reward. the treasures found in the castle of the rajah were inconsiderable, and the soldiers, who had shown themselves so docile in receiving the lessons of plunder, were found inflexibly obstinate in refusing to admit their instructor to a share. disappointed, therefore, in the primary object of his expedition, the governor-general looked round for some richer harvest of rapine, and the begums of oude presented themselves as the most convenient victims. these princesses, the mother and grandmother of the reigning nabob of oude, had been left by the late sovereign in possession of certain government-estates, or jaghires, as well as of all the treasure that was in his hands at the time of his death, and which the orientalized imaginations of the english exaggerated to an enormous sum. the present nabob had evidently looked with an eye of cupidity on this wealth, and had been guilty of some acts of extortion towards his female relatives, in consequence of which the english government had interfered between them,--and had even guaranteed to the mother of the nabob the safe possession of her property, without any further encroachment whatever. guarantees and treaties, however, were but cobwebs in the way of mr. hastings; and on his failure at benares, he lost no time in concluding an agreement with the nabob, by which (in consideration of certain measures of relief to his dominions) this prince was bound to plunder his mother and grandmother of all their property, and place it at the disposal of the governor-general. in order to give a color of justice to this proceeding, it was [footnote: "it was the practice of mr. hastings (says burke, in his fine speech on mr. pitt's india bill, march , ) to examine the country, and wherever he found money to affix guilt. a more dreadful fault could not be alleged against a native than that he was rich."] pretended that these princesses had taken advantage of the late insurrection at benares, to excite a similar spirit of revolt in oude against the reigning nabob and the english government. as law is but too often, in such cases, the ready accomplice of tyranny, the services of the chief justice, sir elijah impey, were called in to sustain the accusations; and the wretched mockery was exhibited of a judge travelling about in search of evidence, [footnote: this journey of the chief justice in search of evidence is thus happily described by sheridan in the speech:--"when, on the th of november, he was busied at lucknow on that honorable business, and when, three days after, he was found at chunar, at the distance of miles, still searching for affidavits, and, like hamlet's ghost, exclaiming, 'swear,' his progress on that occasion was so whimsically rapid, compared with the gravity of his employ, that an observer would be tempted to quote again from the same scene, 'ha! old truepenny, canst thou mole so fast i' the ground?' here, however, the comparison ceased; for, when sir elijah made his visit to lucknow 'to whet the almost blunted purpose' of the nabob, his language was wholly different from that of the poet--for it would have been totally against his purpose to have said, taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive against thy mother aught."] for the express purpose of proving a charge, upon which judgment had been pronounced and punishment decreed already. the nabob himself, though sufficiently ready to make the wealth of those venerable ladies occasionally minister to his wants, yet shrunk back, with natural reluctance, from the summary task now imposed upon him; and it was not till after repeated and peremptory remonstrances from mr. hastings, that he could be induced to put himself at the head of a body of english troops, and take possession, by unresisted force, of the town and palace of these princesses. as the treasure, however, was still secure in the apartments of the women,--that circle, within which even the spirit of english rapine did not venture,--an expedient was adopted to get over this inconvenient delicacy. two aged eunuchs of high rank and distinction, the confidential agents of the begums, were thrown into prison, and subjected to a course of starvation and torture, by which it was hoped that the feelings of their mistresses might be worked upon, and a more speedy surrender of their treasure wrung from them. the plan succeeded:--upwards of , _l_. was procured to recruit the finances of the company; and thus, according to the usual course of british power in india, rapacity but levied its contributions in one quarter, to enable war to pursue its desolating career in another. to crown all, one of the chief articles of the treaty, by which the nabob was reluctantly induced to concur in these atrocious measures, was, as soon as the object had been gained, infringed by mr. hastings, who, in a letter to his colleagues in the government, honestly confesses that the concession of that article was only a fraudulent artifice of diplomacy, and never intended to be carried into effect. such is an outline of the case, which, with all its aggravating details, mr. sheridan had to state in these two memorable speeches; and it was certainly most fortunate for the display of his peculiar powers, that this should be the charge confided to his management. for, not only was it the strongest, and susceptible of the highest charge of coloring, but it had also the advantage of grouping together all the principal delinquents of the trial, and affording a gradation of hue, from the showy and prominent enormities of the governor-general and sir elijah impey in the front of the picture, to the subordinate and half-tint iniquity of the middletons and bristows in the back-ground. mr. burke, it appears, had at first reserved this grand part in the drama of the impeachment for himself; but, finding that sheridan had also fixed his mind upon it, he, without hesitation, resigned it into his hands; thus proving the sincerity of his zeal in the cause, [footnote: of the lengths to which this zeal could sometimes carry his fancy and language, rather, perhaps, than his actual feelings, the following anecdote is a remarkable proof. on one of the days of the trial, lord ----, who was then a boy, having been introduced by a relative into the manager's box, burke said to him, "i am glad to see you here--i shall be still gladder to see you there--(pointing to the peers' seats) i hope you will be _in at the death_--i should like to _blood_ you."] by sacrificing even the vanity of talent to its success. the following letters from him, relative to the impeachment, will be read with interest. the first is addressed to mrs. sheridan, and was written, i think, early in the proceedings; the second is to sheridan himself:-- "madam, "i am sure you will have the goodness to excuse the liberty i take with you, when you consider the interest which i have and which the public have (the said public being, at least, half an inch a taller person than i am) in the use of mr. sheridan's abilities. i know that his mind is seldom unemployed; but then, like all such great and vigorous minds, it takes an eagle flight by itself, and we can hardly bring it to rustle along the ground, with us birds of meaner wing, in coveys. i only beg that you will prevail on mr. sheridan to be with us _this day_, at half after three, in the committee. mr. wombell, the paymaster of oude, is to be examined there _to-day_. oude is mr. sheridan's particular province; and i do most seriously ask that he would favor us with his assistance. what will come of the examination i know not; but, without him, i do not expect a great deal from it; with him, i fancy we may get out something material. once more let me entreat your interest with mr. sheridan and your forgiveness for being troublesome to you, and do me the justice to believe me, with the most sincere respect, "madam, your most obedient "and faithful humble servant, _"thursday, o'clock._ "edm. burke." "my dear sir, "you have only to wish to be excused to succeed in your wishes; for, indeed, he must be a great enemy to himself who can consent, on account of a momentary ill-humor, to keep himself at a distance from you. "well, all will turn out right,--and half of you, or a quarter, is worth five other men. i think that this cause, which was originally yours, will be recognized by you, and that you will again possess yourself of it. the owner's mark is on it, and all our docking and cropping cannot hinder its being known and cherished by its original master. my most humble respects to mrs. sheridan. i am happy to find that she takes in good part the liberty i presumed to take with her. grey has done much and will do every thing. it is a pity that he is not always toned to the full extent of his talents. "most truly yours, _"monday._ "edm. burke. "i feel a little sickish at the approaching day. i have read much--too much, perhaps,--and, in truth, am but poorly prepared. many things, too, have broken in upon me." [footnote: for this letter, as well as some other valuable communications, i am indebted to the kindness of mr. burgess,--the solicitor and friend of sheridan during the last twenty years of his life.] though a report, however accurate, must always do injustice to that effective kind of oratory which is intended rather to be heard than read, and, though frequently, the passages that most roused and interested the hearer, are those that seem afterwards the tritest and least animated to the reader, [footnote: the converse assertion is almost equally true. mr. fox used to ask of a printed speech, "does it read well?" and, if answered in the affirmative, said, "then it was a bad speech."] yet, with all this disadvantage, the celebrated oration in question so well sustains its reputation in the perusal, that it would be injustice, having an authentic report in my possession, not to produce some specimens of its style and spirit. in the course of his exordium, after dwelling upon the great importance of the inquiry in which they were engaged, and disclaiming for himself and his brother-managers any feeling of personal malice against the defendant, or any motive but that of retrieving the honor of the british name in india, and bringing down punishment upon those whose inhumanity and injustice had disgraced it,--he thus proceeds to conciliate the court by a warm tribute to the purity of english justice:-- "however, when i have said this, i trust your lordships will not believe that, because something is necessary to retrieve the british character, we call for an example to be made, without due and solid proof of the guilt of the person whom we pursue:--no, my lords, we know well that it is the glory of this constitution, that not the general fame or character of any man--not the weight or power of any prosecutor--no plea of moral or political expediencey--not even the secret consciousness of guilt, which may live in the bosom of the judge, can justify any british court in passing any sentence, to touch a hair of the head, or an atom in any respect, of the property, of the fame, of the liberty of the poorest or meanest subject that breathes the air of this just and free land. we know, my lords, that there can be no legal guilt without legal proof, and that the rule which defines the evidence is as much the law of the land as that which creates the crime. it is upon that ground we mean to stand." among those ready equivocations and disavowals, to which mr. hastings had recourse upon every emergency, and in which practice seems to have rendered him as shameless as expert, the step which he took with regard to his own defence during the trial was not the least remarkable for promptness and audacity. he had, at the commencement of the prosecution, delivered at the bar of the house of commons, as his own, a written refutation of the charges then pending against him in that house, declaring at the same time, that "if truth could tend to convict him, he was content to be, himself, the channel to convey it." afterwards, however, on finding that he had committed himself rather imprudently in this defence, he came forward to disclaim it at the bar of the house of lords, and brought his friend major scott to prove that it had been drawn up by messrs. shore, middleton, &c. &c.--that he himself had not even seen it, and therefore ought not to be held accountable for its contents. in adverting to this extraordinary evasion, mr. sheridan thus shrewdly and playfully exposes all the persons concerned in it:-- "major scott comes to your bar--describes the shortness of time--represents mr. hastings as it were _contracting for_ a character--putting his memory _into commission_--making _departments_ for his conscience. a number of friends meet together, and he, knowing (no doubt) that the accusation of the commons had been drawn up by a committee, thought it necessary, as a point of punctilio, to answer it by a committee also. one furnishes the raw material of fact, the second spins the argument, and the third twines up the conclusion; while mr. hastings, with a master's eye, is cheering and looking over this loom. he says to one, 'you have got my good faith in your hands--_you_, my veracity to manage. mr. shore, i hope you will make me a good financier--mr. middleton, you have my humanity in commission.'--when it is done, he brings it to the house of commons, and says, 'i was equal to the task. i knew the difficulties, but i scorn them: here is the truth, and if the truth will convict me, i am content myself to be the channel of it.' his friends hold up their heads, and say, 'what noble magnanimity! this must be the effect of conscious and real innocence.' well, it is so received, it is so argued upon,--but it fails of its effect. "then says mr. hastings,--'that my defence! no, mere journeyman-work,--good enough for the commons, but not fit for your lordships' consideration.' he then calls upon his counsel to save him:--'i fear none of my accusers' witnesses--i know some of them well--i know the weakness of their memory, and the strength of their attachment--i fear no testimony but my own--save me from the peril of my own panegyric--preserve me from that, and i shall be safe.' then is this plea brought to your lordships' bar, and major scott gravely asserts,--that mr. hastings did, at the bar of the house of commons, vouch for facts of which he was ignorant, and for arguments which he had never read. "after such an attempt, we certainly are left in doubt to decide, to _which_ set of his friends mr. hastings is least obliged, those who assisted him in making his defence, or those who advised him to deny it." he thus describes the feelings of the people of the east with respect to the unapproachable sanctity of their zenanas:-- "it is too much, i am afraid, the case, that persons, used to european manners, do not take up these sort of considerations at first with the seriousness that is necessary. for your lordships cannot even learn the right nature of those people's feelings and prejudices from any history of other mahometan countries,--not even from that of the turks, for they are a mean and degraded race in comparison with many of these great families, who, inheriting from their persian ancestors, preserve a purer style of prejudice and a loftier superstition. women there are not as in turkey--they neither go to the mosque nor to the bath--it is not the thin veil alone that hides them--but in the inmost recesses of their zenana they are kept from public view by those reverenced and protected walls, which, as mr. hastings and sir elijah impey admit, are held sacred even by the ruffian hand of war or by the more uncourteous hand of the law. but, in this situation, they are not confined from a mean and selfish policy of man--not from a coarse and sensual jealousy--enshrined rather than immured, their habitation and retreat is a sanctuary, not a prison--their jealousy is their own--a jealousy of their own honor, that leads them to regard liberty as a degradation, and the gaze of even admiring eyes as inexpiable pollution to the purity of their fame and the sanctity of their honor. "such being the general opinion (or prejudices, let them be called) of this country, your lordships will find, that whatever treasures were given or lodged in a zenana of this description must, upon the evidence of the thing itself, be placed beyond the reach of resumption. to dispute with the counsel about the original right to those treasures--to talk of a title to them by the mahometan law!--their title to them is the title of a saint to the relics upon an altar, placed there by piety, [footnote: this metaphor was rather roughly handled afterwards ( ) by mr. law, one of the adverse counsel, who asked, how could the begum be considered as "a saint," or how were the camels, which formed part of the treasure, to be "placed upon the altar?" sheridan, in reply, said, "it was the first time in his life he had ever heard of _special pleading_ on a _metaphor_, or a _bill of indictment_ against a trope. but such was the turn of the learned counsel's mind, that, when he attempted to be humorous, no jest could be found, and, when serious, no fact was visible."] guarded by holy superstition, and to be snatched from thence only by sacrilege." in showing that the nabob was driven to this robbery of his relatives by other considerations than those of the pretended rebellion, which was afterwards conjured up by mr. hastings to justify it, he says,-- "the fact is, that through all his defences--through all his various false suggestions--through all these various rebellions and disaffections, mr. hastings never once lets go this plea--of extinguishable right in the nabob. he constantly represents the seizing the treasures as a resumption of a right which he could not part with;--as if there were literally something in the koran, that made it criminal in a true mussulman to keep his engagements with his relations, and impious in a son to abstain from plundering his mother. i do gravely assure your lordships that there is no such doctrine in the koran, and no such principle makes a part in the civil or municipal jurisprudence of that country. even after these princesses had been endeavoring to dethrone the nabob and to extirpate the english, the only plea the nabob ever makes, is his right under the mahometan law; and the truth is, he appears never to have heard any other reason, and i pledge myself to make it appear to your lordships, however extraordinary it may be, that not only had the nabob never heard of the rebellion till the moment of seizing the palace, but, still further, that he never heard of it at all--that this extraordinary rebellion, which was as notorious as the rebellion of in london, was carefully concealed from those two parties--the begums who plotted it, and the nabob who was to be the victim of it. "the existence of this rebellion was not the secret, but the notoriety of it was the secret; it was a rebellion which had for its object the destruction of no human creature but those who planned it;--it was a rebellion which, according to mr. middleton's expression, no man, either horse or foot, ever marched to quell. the chief justice was the only man who took the field against it,--the force against which it was raised, instantly withdrew to give it elbow-room,--and, even then, it was a rebellion which perversely showed itself in acts of hospitality to the nabob whom it was to dethrone, and to the english whom it was to extirpate;--it was a rebellion plotted by two feeble old women, headed by two eunuchs, and suppressed by an affidavit." the acceptance, or rather exaction, of the private present of £ , is thus animadverted upon: "my lords, such was the distressed situation of the nabob about a twelvemonth before mr. hastings met him at chunar. it was a twelvemonth, i say, after this miserable scene--a mighty period in the progress of british rapacity--it was (if the counsel will) after some natural calamities had aided the superior vigor of british violence and rapacity--it was after the country had felt other calamities besides the english--it was after the angry dispensations of providence had, with a progressive severity of chastisement, visited the land with a famine one year, and with a col. hannay the next--it was after he, this hannay, had returned to retrace the steps of his former ravages--it was after he and his voracious crew had come to plunder ruins which himself had made, and to glean from desolation the little that famine had spared, or rapine overlooked;--_then_ it was that this miserable bankrupt prince marching through his country, besieged by the clamors of his starving subjects, who cried to him for protection through their cages--meeting the curses of some of his subjects, and the prayers of others--with famine at his heels, and reproach following him,--then it was that this prince is represented as exercising this act of prodigal bounty to the very man whom he here reproaches--to the very man whose policy had extinguished his power, and whose creatures had desolated his country. to talk of a free-will gift! it is audacious and ridiculous to name the supposition. it was _not_ a free-will gift. what was it then? was it a bribe? or was it extortion? i shall prove it was both--it was an act of gross bribery and of rank extortion." again he thus adverts to this present:-- "the first thing he does is, to leave calcutta, in order to go to the relief of the distressed nabob. the second thing, is to take , _l_ from that distressed nabob on account of the distressed company. and the third thing is to ask of the distressed company this very same sum on account of the distresses of mr. hastings. there never were three distresses that seemed so little reconcilable with one another." anticipating the plea of state-necessity, which might possibly be set up in defence of the measures of the governor-general, he breaks out into the following rhetorical passage:-- "state necessity! no, my lords; that imperial tyrant, _state necessity_, is yet a generous despot,--bold is his demeanor, rapid his decisions, and terrible his grasp. but what he does, my lords, he dares avow, and avowing, scorns any other justification, than the great motives that placed the iron sceptre in his hand. but a quibbling, pilfering, prevaricating state-necessity, that tries to skulk behind the skirts of justice;--a state-necessity that tries to steal a pitiful justification from whispered accusations and fabricated rumors. no, my lords, that is no state necessity;--tear off the mask, and you see coarse, vulgar avarice,--you see speculation, lurking under the gaudy disguise, and adding the guilt of libelling the public honor to its own private fraud. "my lords, i say this, because i am sure the managers would make every allowance that state-necessity could claim upon any great emergency. if any great man in bearing the arms of this country;--if any admiral, bearing the vengeance and the glory of britain to distant coasts, should be compelled to some rash acts of violence, in order, perhaps, to give food to those who are shedding their blood for britain;--if any great general, defending some fortress, barren itself, perhaps, but a pledge of the pride, and, with the pride, of the power of britain; if such a man were to * * * while he himself was * * at the top, like an eagle besieged in its imperial nest; [footnote: the reporter, at many of these passages, seems to have thrown aside his pen in despair.]--would the commons of england come to accuse or to arraign such acts of state-necessity? no." in describing that swarm of english pensioners and placemen, who were still, in violation of the late purchased treaty, left to prey on the finances of the nabob, he says,-- "here we find they were left, as heavy a weight upon the nabob as ever,--left there with as keen an appetite, though not so clamorous. they were reclining on the roots and shades of that spacious tree, which their predecessors had stripped branch and bough--watching with eager eyes the first budding of a future prosperity, and of the opening harvest which they considered as the prey of their perseverance and rapacity." we have in the close of the following passage, a specimen of that lofty style, in which, as if under the influence of eastern associations, almost all the managers of this trial occasionally indulged: [footnote: much of this, however, is to be set down to the gratuitous bombast of the reporter. mr. fox, for instance, is made to say, "yes, my lords, happy is it for the world, that the penetrating gaze of providence searches after man, and in the dark den where he has stifled the remonstrances of conscience darts his compulsatory ray, that, bursting the secrecy of guilt, drives the criminal frantic to confession and expiation." _history of the trial._--even one of the counsel, mr. dallas, is represented as having caught this oriental contagion, to such a degree as to express himself in the following manner:--"we are now, however, (said the counsel,) advancing from the star-light of circumstance to the day-light of discovery: the sun of certainty is melting the darkness, and--we are arrived at facts admitted by both parties!"]-- "i do not mean to say that mr. middleton had _direct_ instructions from mr. hastings,--that he told him to go and give that fallacious assurance to the nabob,--that he had that order _under his hand_. no, but in looking attentively over mr. middleton's correspondence, you will find him say, upon a more important occasion, 'i don't expect your public authority for this;--it is enough if you but _hint_ your pleasure.' he knew him well; he could interpret every nod and motion of that head; he understood the glances of that eye which sealed the perdition of nations, and at whose throne princes waited, in pale expectation, for their fortune or their doom." the following is one of those labored passages, of which the orator himself was perhaps most proud, but in which the effort to be eloquent is too visible, and the effect, accordingly, falls short of the pretension:-- "you see how truth--empowered by that will which gives a giant's nerve to an infant's arm--has burst the monstrous mass of fraud that has endeavored to suppress it.--it calls now to your lordships, in the weak but clear tone of that cherub, innocence, whose voice is more persuasive than eloquence, more convincing than argument, whose look is supplication, whose tone is conviction,--it calls upon you for redress, it calls upon you for vengeance upon the oppressor, and points its heaven-directed hand to the detested, but unrepenting author of its wrongs!" his description of the desolation brought upon some provinces of oude by the misgovernment of colonel hannay, and of the insurrection at goruckpore against that officer in consequence, is, perhaps, the most masterly portion of the whole speech:-- "if we could suppose a person to have come suddenly into the country unacquainted with any circumstances that had passed since the days of sujah ul dowlah, he would naturally ask--what cruel hand has wrought this wide desolation, what barbarian foe has invaded the country, has desolated its fields, depopulated its villages? he would ask, what disputed succession, civil rage, or frenzy of the inhabitants, had induced them to act in hostility to the words of god, and the beauteous works of man? he would ask what religious zeal or frenzy had added to the mad despair and horrors of war? the ruin is unlike any thing that appears recorded in any age; it looks like neither the barbarities of men, nor the judgments of vindictive heaven. there is a waste of desolation, as if caused by fell destroyers, never meaning to return and making but a short period of their rapacity. it looks as if some fabled monster had made its passage through the country, whose pestiferous breath had blasted more than its voracious appetite could devour." "if there had been any men in the country, who had not their hearts and souls so subdued by fear, as to refuse to speak the truth at all upon such a subject, they would have told him, there had been no war since the time of sujah ul dowlah,--tyrant, indeed, as he was, but then deeply regretted by his subjects--that no hostile blow of any enemy had been struck in that land--that there had been no disputed succession--no civil war--no religious frenzy. but that these were the tokens of british friendship, the marks left by the embraces of british allies--more dreadful than the blows of the bitterest enemy. they would tell him that these allies had converted a prince into a slave, to make him the principal in the extortion upon his subjects;--that their rapacity increased in proportion as the means of supplying their avarice diminished; that they made the sovereign pay as if they had a right to an increased price, because the labor of extortion and plunder increased. to such causes, they would tell him, these calamities were owing. "need i refer your lordships to the strong testimony of major naylor when he rescued colonel hannay from their hands--where you see that this people, born to submission and bent to most abject subjection--that even they, in whose meek hearts injury had never yet begot resentment, nor even despair bred courage--that _their_ hatred, _their_ abhorrence of colonel hannay was such that they clung round him by thousands and thousands;--that when major naylor rescued him, they refused life from the hand that could rescue hannay;--that they nourished this desperate consolation, that by their death they should at least thin the number of wretches who suffered by his devastation and extortion. he says that, when he crossed the river, he found the poor wretches quivering upon the parched banks of the polluted river, encouraging their blood to flow, and consoling themselves with the thought, that it would not sink into the earth, but rise to the common god of humanity, and cry aloud for vengeance on their destroyers!--this warm description--which is no declamation of mine, but founded in actual fact, and in fair, clear proof before your lordships--speaks powerfully what the cause of these oppressions were, and the perfect justness of those feelings that were occasioned by them. and yet, my lords, i am asked to prove _why_ these people arose in such concert:--'there must have been machinations, forsooth, and the begums' machinations, to produce all this!'--why did they rise!--because they were people in human shape; because patience under the detested tyranny of man is rebellion to the sovereignty of god; because allegiance to that power that gives us the _forms_ of men commands us to maintain the _rights_ of men. and never yet was this truth dismissed from the human heart--never in any time, in any age--never in any clime, where rude man ever had any social feeling, or where corrupt refinement had subdued all feelings,--never was this one unextinguishable truth destroyed from the heart of man, placed, as it is, in the core and centre of it by his maker, that man was not made the property of man; that human power is a trust for human benefit and that when it is abused, revenge becomes justice, if not the bounden duty of the injured! these, my lords, were the causes why these people rose." another passage in the second day's speech is remarkable, as exhibiting a sort of tourney of intellect between sheridan and burke, and in that field of abstract speculation, which was the favorite arena of the latter. mr. burke had, in opening the prosecution, remarked, that prudence is a quality incompatible with vice, and can never be effectively enlisted in its cause:--"i never (said he) knew a man who was bad, fit for _service_ that was good. there is always some disqualifying ingredient, mixing and spoiling the compound. the man seems paralytic on that side, his muscles there have lost their very tone and character--they cannot move. in short, the accomplishment of any thing good is a physical impossibility for such a man. there is decrepitude as well as distortion: he could not, if he would, is not more certain than that he would not, if he could." to this sentiment the allusions in the following passage refer:-- "i am perfectly convinced that there is one idea, which must arise in your lordships' minds as a subject of wonder,--how a person of mr. hastings' reputed abilities can furnish such matter of accusation against himself. for, it must be admitted that never was there a person who seems to go so rashly to work, with such an arrogant appearance of contempt for all conclusions, that may be deduced from what he advances upon the subject. when he seems most earnest and laborious to defend himself, it appears as if he had but one idea uppermost in his mind--a determination not to care what he says, provided he keeps clear of fact. he knows that truth must convict him, and concludes, _à converso_, that falsehood will acquit him; forgetting that there must be some connection, some system, some co-operation, or, otherwise, his host of falsities fall without an enemy, self-discomfited and destroyed. but of this he never seems to have had the slightest apprehension. he falls to work, an artificer of fraud, against all the rules of architecture;--he lays his ornamental work first, and his massy foundation at the top of it; and thus his whole building tumbles upon his head. other people look well to their ground, choose their position, and watch whether they are likely to be surprised there; but he, as if in the ostentation of his heart, builds upon a precipice, and encamps upon a mine, from choice. he seems to have no one actuating principle, but a steady, persevering resolution not to speak the truth or to tell the fact. "it is impossible almost to treat conduct of this kind with perfect seriousness; yet i am aware that it ought to be more seriously accounted for--because i am sure it has been a sort of paradox, which must have struck your lordships, how any person having so many motives to conceal--having so many reasons to dread detection--should yet go to work so clumsily upon the subject. it is possible, indeed, that it may raise this doubt--whether such a person is of sound mind enough to be a proper object of punishment; or at least it may give a kind of confused notion, that the guilt cannot be of so deep and black a grain, over which such a thin veil was thrown, and so little trouble taken to avoid detection. i am aware that, to account for this seeming paradox, historians, poets, and even philosophers--at least of ancient times--have adopted the superstitious solution of the vulgar, and said that the gods deprive men of reason whom they devote to destruction or to punishment. but to unassuming or unprejudiced reason, there is no need to resort to any supposed supernatural interference; for the solution will be found in the eternal rules that formed the mind of man, and gave a quality and nature to every passion that inhabits in it. "an honorable friend of mine, who is now, i believe, near me,--a gentleman, to whom i never can on any occasion refer without feelings of respect, and, on this subject, without feelings of the most grateful homage;--a gentleman, whose abilities upon this occasion, as upon some former ones, happily for the glory of the age in which we live, are not entrusted merely to the perishable eloquence of the day, but will live to be the admiration of that hour when all of us are mute, and most of us forgotten;--that honorable gentleman has told you that prudence, the first of virtues, never can be used in the cause of vice. if, reluctant and diffident, i might take such a liberty, i should express a doubt, whether experience, observation, or history, will warrant us in fully assenting to this observation. it is a noble and a lovely sentiment, my lords, worthy the mind of him who uttered it, worthy that proud disdain, that generous scorn of the means and instruments of vice, which virtue and genius must ever feel. but i should doubt whether we can read the history of a philip of macedon, a caesar, or a cromwell, without confessing, that there have been evil purposes, baneful to the peace and to the rights of men, conducted--if i may not say, with prudence or with wisdom--yet with awful craft and most successful and commanding subtlety. if, however, i might make a distinction, i should say that it is the proud attempt to mix a _variety_ of lordly crimes, that unsettles the prudence of the mind, and breeds this distraction of the brain. "_one_ master-passion, domineering in the breast, may win the faculties of the understanding to advance its purpose, and to direct to that object every thing that thought or human knowledge can effect; but, to succeed, it must maintain a solitary despotism in the mind;--each rival profligacy must stand aloof, or wait in abject vassalage upon its throne. for, the power, that has not forbad the entrance of evil passions into man's mind, has, at least, forbad their union;--if they meet they defeat their object, and their conquest, or their attempt at it, is tumult. turn to the virtues--how different the decree! formed to connect, to blend, to associate, and to cooperate; bearing the same course, with kindred energies and harmonious sympathy, each perfect in its own lovely sphere, each moving in its wider or more contracted orbit, with different, but concentering, powers, guided by the same influence of reason, and endeavoring at the same blessed end--the happiness of the individual, the harmony of the species, and the glory of the creator. in the vices, on the other hand, it is the discord that insures the defeat--each clamors to be heard in its own barbarous language; each claims the exclusive cunning of the brain; each thwarts and reproaches the other; and even while their fell rage assails with common hate the peace and virtue of the world, the civil war among their own tumultuous legions defeats the purpose of the foul conspiracy. these are the furies of the mind, my lords, that unsettle the understanding; these are the furies, that destroy the virtue, prudence,--while the distracted brain and shivered intellect proclaim the tumult that is within, and bear their testimonies, from the mouth of god himself, to the foul condition of the heart." the part of the speech which occupied the third day (and which was interrupted by the sudden indisposition of mr. sheridan) consists chiefly of comments upon the affidavits taken before sir elijah impey,--in which the irrelevance and inconsistency of these documents is shrewdly exposed, and the dryness of detail, inseparable from such a task, enlivened by those light touches of conversational humor, and all that by-play of eloquence of which mr. sheridan was such a consummate master. but it was on the fourth day of the oration that he rose into his most ambitious flights, and produced some of those dazzling bursts of declamation, of which the traditional fame is most vividly preserved. among the audience of that day was gibbon, and the mention of his name in the following passage not only produced its effect at the moment, but, as connected with literary anecdote, will make the passage itself long memorable. politics are of the day, but literature is of all time--and, though it was in the power of the orator, in his brief moment of triumph, to throw a lustre over the historian by a passing epithet, [footnote: gibbon himself thought it an event worthy of record in his memoirs. "before my departure from england (he says) i was present at the august spectacle of mr. hastings's trial in westminster hall. it was not my province to absolve or condemn the governor of india, but mr. sheridan's eloquence demanded my applause, nor could i hear without emotion the personal compliment which he paid me in the presence of the british nation. from this display of genius, which blazed four successive days," &c &c.] the name of the latter will, at the long run, pay back the honor with interest. having reprobated the violence and perfidy of the governor-general, in forcing the nabob to plunder his own relatives and friends, he adds:-- "i do say, that if you search the history of the world, you will not find an act of tyranny and fraud to surpass this; if you read all past histories, peruse the annals of tacitus, read the luminous page of gibbon, and all the ancient and modern writers, that have searched into the depravity of former ages to draw a lesson for the present, you will not find an act of treacherous, deliberate, cool cruelty that could exceed this." on being asked by some honest brother whig, at the conclusion of the speech, how he came to compliment gibbon with the epithet "luminous," sheridan answered in a half whisper, "i said '_vo_luminous.'" it is well known that the simile of the vulture and the lamb, which occurs in the address of rolla to the peruvians, had been previously employed by mr. sheridan, in this speech; and it showed a degree of indifference to criticism,--which criticism, it must be owned, not unfrequently deserves,--to reproduce before the public an image, so notorious both from its application and its success. but, called upon, as he was, to levy, for the use of that drama, a hasty conscription of phrases and images, all of a certain altitude and pomp, this veteran simile, he thought, might be pressed into the service among the rest. the passage of the speech in which it occurs is left imperfect in the report:-- "this is the character of all the protection ever afforded to the allies of britain under the government of mr. hastings. they send their troops to drain the produce of industry, to seize all the treasures, wealth, and prosperity of the country, and then they call it protection!--it is the protection of the vulture to the lamb. * * *" the following is his celebrated delineation of filial affection, to which reference is more frequently made than to any other part of the speech;--though the gross inaccuracy of the printed report has done its utmost to belie the reputation of the original passage, or rather has substituted a changeling to inherit its fame. "when i see in many of these letters the infirmities of age made a subject of mockery and ridicule; when i see the feelings of a son treated by mr. middleton as puerile and contemptible; when i see an order given by mr. hastings to harden that son's heart, to choke the struggling nature in his bosom; when i see them pointing to the son's name, and to his standard while marching to oppress the mother, as to a banner that gives dignity, that gives a holy sanction and a reverence to their enterprise; when i see and hear these things done--when i hear them brought into three deliberate defences set up against the charges of the commons--my lords, i own i grow puzzled and confounded, and almost begin to doubt whether, where such a defence can be offered, it may not be tolerated. "and yet, my lords, how can i support the claim of filial love by argument--much less the affection of a son to a mother--where love loses its awe, and veneration is mixed with tenderness? what can i say upon such a subject, what can i do but repeat the ready truths which, with the quick impulse of the mind, must spring to the lips of every man on such a theme? filial love! the morality of instinct, the sacrament of nature and duty--or rather let me say it is miscalled a duty, for it flows from the heart without effort, and is its delight, its indulgence, its enjoyment. it is guided, not by the slow dictates of reason; it awaits not encouragement from reflection or from thought; it asks no aid of memory; it is an innate, but active, consciousness of having been the object of a thousand tender solicitudes, a thousand waking watchful cares, of meek anxiety and patient sacrifices unremarked and unrequited by the object. it is a gratitude founded upon a conviction of obligations, not remembered, but the more binding because not remembered,--because conferred before the tender reason could acknowledge, or the infant memory record them--a gratitude and affection, which no circumstances should subdue, and which few can strengthen; a gratitude, in which even injury from the object, though it may blend regret, should never breed resentment; an affection which can be increased only by the decay of those to whom we owe it, and which is then most fervent when the tremulous voice of age, resistless in its feebleness, inquires for the natural protector of its cold decline. "if these are the general sentiments of man, what must be their depravity, what must be their degeneracy, who can blot out and erase from the bosom the virtue that is deepest rooted in the human heart, and twined within the cords of life itself--aliens from nature, apostates from humanity! and yet, if there is a crime more fell, more foul--if there is any thing worse than a wilful persecutor of his mother--it is to see a deliberate, reasoning instigator and abettor to the deed:--this it is that shocks, disgusts, and appals the mind more than the other--to view, not a wilful parricide, but a parricide by compulsion, a miserable wretch, not actuated by the stubborn evils of his own worthless heart, not driven by the fury of his own distracted brain, but lending his sacrilegious hand, without any malice of his own, to answer the abandoned purposes of the human fiends that have subdued his will!--to condemn crimes like these, we need not talk of laws or of human rules--their foulness, their deformity does not depend upon local constitutions, upon human institutes or religious creeds:--they are crimes--and the persons who perpetrate them are monsters who violate the primitive condition, upon which the earth was given to man--they are guilty by the general verdict of human kind." in some of the sarcasms we are reminded of the quaint contrasts of his dramatic style. thus:-- "i must also do credit to them whenever i see any thing like lenity in mr. middleton or his agent:--they do seem to admit here, that it was not worth while to commit a massacre for the discount of a small note of hand, and to put two thousand women and children to death, in order to procure prompt payment." of the length to which the language of crimination was carried, as well by mr. sheridan as by mr. burke, one example, out of many, will suffice. it cannot fail, however, to be remarked that, while the denunciations and invectives of burke are filled throughout with a passionate earnestness, which leaves no doubt as to the sincerity of the hate and anger professed by him,--in sheridan, whose nature was of a much gentler cast, the vehemence is evidently more in the words than in the feeling, the tone of indignation is theatrical and assumed, and the brightness of the flash seems to be more considered than the destructiveness of the fire:-- "it is this circumstance of deliberation and consciousness of his guilt--it is this that inflames the minds of those who watch his transactions, and roots out all pity for a person who could act under such an influence. we conceive of such tyrants as caligula and nero, bred up to tyranny and oppression, having had no equals to control them--no moment for reflection--we conceive that, if it could have been possible to seize the guilty profligates for a moment, you might bring conviction to their hearts and repentance to their minds. but when you see a cool, reasoning, deliberate tyrant--one who was not born and bred to arrogance,--who has been nursed in a mercantile line--who has been used to look round among his fellow-subjects--to transact business with his equals--to account for conduct to his master, and, by that wise system of the company, to detail all his transactions--who never could fly one moment from himself, but must be obliged every night to sit down and hold up a glass to his own soul--who could never be blind to his deformity, and who must have brought his conscience not only to connive at but to approve of it--_this_ it is that distinguishes it from the worst cruelties, the worst enormities of those, who, born to tyranny, and finding no superior, no adviser, have gone to the last presumption that there were none above to control them hereafter. this is a circumstance that aggravates the whole of the guilt of the unfortunate gentleman we are now arraigning at your bar." we now come to the peroration, in which, skilfully and without appearance of design, it is contrived that the same sort of appeal to the purity of british justice, with which the oration opened, should, like the repetition of a solemn strain of music, recur at its close,--leaving in the minds of the judges a composed and concentrated feeling of the great public duty they had to perform, in deciding upon the arraignment of guilt brought before them. the court of directors, it appeared, had ordered an inquiry into the conduct of the begums, with a view to the restitution of their property, if it should appear that the charges against them were unfounded; but to this proceeding mr. hastings objected, on the ground that the begums themselves had not called for such interference in their favor, and that it was inconsistent with the "majesty of justice" to condescend to volunteer her services. the pompous and jesuitical style in which this singular doctrine [footnote: "if nothing (says mr. mill) remained to stain the reputation of mr. hastings but the principles avowed in this singular pleading, his character, among the friends of justice, would be sufficiently determined."] is expressed, in a letter addressed by the governor-general to mr. macpherson, is thus ingeniously turned to account by the orator, in winding up his masterly statement to a close:-- 'and now before i come to the last magnificent paragraph, let me call the attention of those who, possibly, think themselves capable of judging of the dignity and character of justice in this country;--let me call the attention of those who, arrogantly perhaps, presume that they understand what the features, what the duties of justice are here and in india;--let them learn a lesson from this great statesman, this enlarged, this liberal philosopher:--'i hope i shall not depart from the simplicity of official language, in saying that the majesty of justice ought to be approached with solicitation, not descend to provoke or invite it, much less to debase itself by the suggestion of wrongs and the promise of redress, with the denunciation of punishment before trial, and even before accusation.' this is the exhortation which mr. hastings makes to his counsel. this is the character which he gives of british justice. * * * * * "but i will ask your lordships, do you approve this representation? do you feel that this is the true image of justice? is this the character of british justice? are these her features? is this her countenance? is this her gait or her mien? no, i think even now i hear you calling upon me to turn from this vile libel, this base caricature, this indian pagod, formed by the hand of guilty and knavish tyranny, to dupe the heart of ignorance,--to turn from this deformed idol to the true majesty of justice here. _here_, indeed, i see a different form, enthroned by the sovereign hand of freedom,--awful without severity--commanding without pride--vigilant and active without restlessness or suspicion--searching and inquisitive without meanness or debasement--not arrogantly scorning to stoop to the voice of afflicted innocence, and in its loveliest attitude when bending to uplift the suppliant at its feet. "it is by the majesty, by the form of that justice, that i do conjure and implore your lordships to give your minds to this great business; that i exhort you to look, not so much to words, which may be denied or quibbled away, but to the plain facts,--to weigh and consider the testimony in your own minds: we know the result must be inevitable. let the truth appear and our cause is gained. it is this, i conjure your lordships, for your own honor, for the honor of the nation, for the honor of human nature, now entrusted to your care,--it is this duty that the commons of england, speaking through us, claims at your hands. "they exhort you to it by every thing that calls sublimely upon the heart of man, by the majesty of that justice which this bold man has libelled, by the wide fame of your own tribunal, by the sacred pledge by which you swear in the solemn hour of decision, knowing that that decision will then bring you the highest reward that ever blessed the heart of man, the consciousness of having done the greatest act of mercy for the world, that the earth has ever yet received from any hand but heaven.--my lords, i have done." though i have selected some of the most remarkable passages of this speech, [footnote: i had selected many more, but must confess that they appeared to me, when in print, so little worthy of the reputation of the speech, that i thought it would be, on the whole, more prudent to omit them. even of the passages, here cited, i speak rather from my imagination of what they must have been, than from my actual feeling of what they are. the character, given of such reports, by lord loughborough, is, no doubt, but too just. on a motion made by lord stanhope, (april , ), that the short-hand writers, employed on hastings's trial, should be summoned to the bar of the house, to read their minutes, lord loughborough, in the course of his observations on the motion, said, "god forbid that ever their lordships should call on the short-hand writers to publish their notes; for, of all people, short-hand writers were ever the farthest from correctness, and there were no man's words they ever heard that they again returned. they were in general ignorant, as acting mechanically; and by not considering the antecedent, and catching the sound, and not the sense, they perverted the sense of the speaker, and made him appear as ignorant as themselves."] it would be unfair to judge of it even from these specimens. a report, _verbatim_, of any effective speech must always appear diffuse and ungraceful in the perusal. the very repetitions, the redundancy, the accumulation of epithets which gave force and momentum in the career of delivery, but weaken and encumber the march of the style, when read. there is, indeed, the same sort of difference between a faithful short-hand report, and those abridged and polished records which burke has left us of his speeches, as there is between a cast taken directly from the face, (where every line is accurately preserved, but all the blemishes and excrescences are in rigid preservation also,) and a model, over which the correcting hand has passed, and all that was minute or superfluous is generalized and softened away. neither was it in such rhetorical passages as abound, perhaps, rather lavishly, in this speech, that the chief strength of mr. sheridan's talent lay. good sense and wit were the great weapons of his oratory--shrewdness in detecting the weak points of an adversary, and infinite powers of raillery in exposing it. these were faculties which he possessed in a greater degree than any of his contemporaries; and so well did he himself know the stronghold of his powers, that it was but rarely, after this display in westminster hall, that he was tempted to leave it for the higher flights of oratory, or to wander after sense into that region of metaphor, where too often, like angelica in the enchanted palace of atlante, she is sought for in vain. [footnote: curran used to say laughingly, "when i can't talk sense, i talk metaphor."] his attempts, indeed, at the florid or figurative style, whether in his speeches or his writings, were seldom very successful. that luxuriance of fancy, which in burke was natural and indigenous, was in him rather a forced and exotic growth. it is a remarkable proof of this difference between them, that while, in the memorandums of speeches left behind by burke, we find, that the points of argument and business were those which he prepared, trusting to the ever ready wardrobe of his fancy for their adornment,--in mr. sheridan's notes it is chiefly the decorative passages, that are worked up beforehand to their full polish; while on the resources of his good sense, ingenuity, and temper, he seems to have relied for the management of his reasonings and facts. hence naturally it arises that the images of burke, being called up on the instant, like spirits, to perform the bidding of his argument, minister to it throughout, with an almost coordinate agency; while the figurative fancies of sheridan, already prepared for the occasion, and brought forth to adorn, not assist, the business of the discourse, resemble rather those sprites which the magicians used to keep inclosed in phials, to be produced for a momentary enchantment, and then shut up again. in truth, the similes and illustrations of burke form such an intimate, and often essential, part of his reasoning, that if the whole strength of the samson does not lie in those luxuriant locks, it would at least be considerably diminished by their loss. whereas, in the speech of mr. sheridan, which we have just been considering, there is hardly one of the rhetorical ornaments that might not be detached, without, in any great degree, injuring the force of the general statement. another consequence of this difference between them is observable in their respective modes of transition, from what may be called the _business_ of a speech its more generalized and rhetorical parts. when sheridan rises, his elevation is not sufficiently prepared; he starts abruptly and at once from the level of his statement, and sinks down into it again with the same suddenness. but burke, whose imagination never allows even business to subside into mere prose, sustains a pitch throughout which accustoms the mind to wonder, and, while it prepares us to accompany him in his boldest flights, makes us, even when he walks, still feel that he has wings:-- "_même quand l'oiseau marche, on sent qu'il a des ailes._" the sincerity of the praises bestowed by burke on the speech of his brother manager has sometimes been questioned, but upon no sufficient grounds. his zeal for the success of the impeachment, no doubt, had a considerable share in the enthusiasm, with which this great effort in its favor filled him. it may be granted, too, that, in admiring the apostrophes that variegate this speech, he was, in some degree, enamored of a reflection of himself; "_cunctaque miratur, quibus est mirabilis ipse._" he sees reflected there, in fainter light. all that combines to make himself so bright. but whatever mixture of other motives there may have been in the feeling, it is certain that his admiration of the speech was real and unbounded. he is said to have exclaimed to mr. fox, during the delivery of some passages of it, "there,--that is the true style;--something between poetry and prose, and better than either." the severer taste of mr. fox dissented, as might be expected, from this remark. he replied, that "he thought such a mixture was for the advantage of neither--as producing poetic prose, or, still worse, prosaic poetry." it was, indeed, the opinion of mr. fox, that the impression made upon burke by these somewhat too theatrical tirades is observable in the change that subsequently took place in his own style of writing; and that the florid and less chastened taste which some persons discover in his later productions, may all be traced to the example of this speech. however this may be, or whether there is really much difference, as to taste, between the youthful and sparkling vision of the queen of france in , and the interview between the angel and lord bathurst in , it is surely a most unjust disparagement of the eloquence of burke, to apply to it, at any time of his life, the epithet "flowery,"--a designation only applicable to that ordinary ambition of style, whose chief display, by necessity, consists of ornament without thought, and pomp without substance. a succession of bright images, clothed in simple, transparent language,--even when, as in burke, they "crowd upon the aching sense" too dazzlingly,--should never be confounded with that mere verbal opulence of style, which mistakes the glare of words for the glitter of ideas, and, like the helen of the sculptor lysippus, makes finery supply the place of beauty. the figurative definition of eloquence in the book of proverbs--"apples of gold in a net-work of silver"--is peculiarly applicable to that enshrinement of rich, solid thoughts in clear and shining language, which is the triumph of the imaginative class of writers and orators,--while, perhaps, the net-work, _without_ the gold inclosed, is a type equally significant of what is called "flowery" eloquence. it is also, i think, a mistake, however flattering to my country, to call the school of oratory, to which burke belongs, _irish_. that irishmen are naturally more gifted with those stores of fancy, from which the illumination of this high order of the art must be supplied, the names of burke, grattan, sheridan, curran, canning, and plunkett, abundantly testify. yet had lord chatham, before any of these great speakers were heard, led the way, in the same animated and figured strain of oratory; [footnote: his few noble sentences on the privilege of the poor man's cottage are universally known. there is also his fanciful allusion to the confluence of the saone and rhone, the traditional reports of which vary, both as to the exact terms in which it was expressed, and the persons to whom he applied it. even lord orford does not seem to have ascertained the latter point. to these may be added the following specimen:--"i don't inquire from what quarter the wind cometh, but whither it goeth; and, if any measure that comes from the right honorable gentleman tends to the public good, my bark is ready." of a different kind is that grand passage,--"america, they tell me, has resisted--i rejoice to hear it,"--which mr. grattan used to pronounce finer than anything in demosthenes.] while another englishman, lord bacon, by making fancy the hand-maid of philosophy, had long since set an example of that union of the imaginative and the solid, which, both in writing and in speaking, forms the characteristic distinction of this school. the speech of mr. sheridan in westminster hall, though so much inferior in the opinion of mr. fox and others, to that which he had delivered on the same subject in the house of commons, seems to have produced, at the time, even a more lively and general sensation;--possibly from the nature and numerousness of the assembly before which it was spoken, and which counted among its multitude a number of that sex, whose lips are in general found to be the most rapid conductors of fame. but there was _one_ of this sex, more immediately interested in his glory, who seems to have felt it as women alone can feel. "i have delayed writing," says mrs. sheridan, in a letter to her sister-in-law, dated four days after the termination of the speech, "till i could gratify myself and you by sending you the news of our dear dick's triumph!--of _our_ triumph i may call it; for surely, no one, in the slightest degree connected with him, but must feel proud and happy. it is impossible, my dear woman, to convey to you the delight, the astonishment, the adoration, he has excited in the breasts of every class of people! every party-prejudice has been overcome by a display of genius, eloquence and goodness, which no one with any thing like a heart about them, could have listened to without being the wiser and the better for the rest of their lives. what must _my_ feelings be!--you can only imagine. to tell you the truth, it is with some difficulty that i can 'let down my mind,' as mr. burke said afterwards, to talk or think on any other subject. but pleasure, too exquisite, becomes pain, and i am at this moment suffering for the delightful anxieties of last week." it is a most happy combination when the wife of a man of genius unites intellect enough to appreciate the talents of her husband, with the quick, feminine sensibility, that can thus passionately feel his success. pliny tells us, that his calpurnia, whenever he pleaded an important cause, had messengers ready to report to her every murmur of applause that he received; and the poet statius, in alluding to his own victories at the albanian games, mentions the "breathless kisses," with which his wife, claudia, used to cover the triumphal garlands he brought home. mrs. sheridan may well take her place beside these roman wives;--and she had another resemblance to one of them, which was no less womanly and attractive. not only did calpurnia sympathize with the glory of her husband abroad, but she could also, like mrs. sheridan, add a charm to his talents at home, by setting his verses to music and singing them to her harp,--"with no instructor," adds pliny, "but love, who is, after all, the best master." this letter of mrs. sheridan thus proceeds:--"you were perhaps alarmed by the account of s.'s illness in the papers; but i have the pleasure to assure you he is now perfectly well, and i hope by next week we shall be quietly settled in the country, and suffered to repose, in every sense of the word; for indeed we have, both of us, been in a constant state of agitation, of one kind or other, for some time back. "i am very glad to hear your father continues so well. surely he must feel happy and proud of such a son. i take it for granted you see the newspapers: i assure you the accounts in them are not exaggerated, and only echo the exclamation of admiration that is in every body's mouth. i make no excuse for dwelling on this subject: i know you will not find it tedious. god bless you--i am an invalid at present, and not able to write long letters." the agitation and want of repose, which mrs. sheridan here complains of, arose not only from the anxiety which she so deeply felt, for the success of this great public effort of her husband, but from the share which she herself had taken, in the labor and attention necessary to prepare him for it. the mind of sheridan being, from the circumstances of his education and life, but scantily informed upon all subjects for which reading is necessary, required, of course, considerable training and feeding, before it could venture to grapple with any new or important task. he has been known to say frankly to his political friends, when invited to take part in some question that depended upon authorities, "you know i'm an ignoramus--but here i am--instruct me and i'll do my best." it is said that the stock of numerical lore, upon which he ventured to set up as the aristarchus of mr. pitt's financial plans, was the result of three weeks' hard study of arithmetic, to which he doomed himself, in the early part of his parliamentary career, on the chance of being appointed, some time or other, chancellor of the exchequer. for financial display it must be owned that this was rather a crude preparation. but there are other subjects of oratory, on which the outpourings of information, newly acquired, may have a freshness and vivacity which it would be vain to expect, in the communication of knowledge that has lain long in the mind, and lost in circumstantial spirit what it has gained in general mellowness. they, indeed, who have been regularly disciplined in learning, may be not only too familiar with what they know to communicate it with much liveliness to others, but too apt also to rely upon the resources of the memory, and upon those cold outlines which it retains of knowledge whose details are faded. the natural consequence of all this is that persons, the best furnished with general information, are often the most vague and unimpressive on particular subjects; while, on the contrary, an uninstructed man of genius, like sheridan, who approaches a topic of importance for the first time, has not only the stimulus of ambition and curiosity to aid him in mastering its details, but the novelty of first impressions to brighten his general views of it--and, with a fancy thus freshly excited, himself, is most sure to touch and rouse the imaginations of others. this was particularly the situation of mr. sheridan with respect to the history of indian affairs; and there remain among his papers numerous proofs of the labor which his preparation for this arduous task cost not only himself but mrs. sheridan. among others, there is a large pamphlet of mr. hastings, consisting of more than two hundred pages, copied out neatly in her writing, with some assistance from another female hand. the industry, indeed, of all around him was put in requisition for this great occasion--some, busy with the pen and scissors, making extracts--some pasting and stitching his scattered memorandums in their places. so that there was hardly a single member of the family that could not boast of having contributed his share, to the mechanical construction of this speech. the pride of its success was, of course, equally participated; and edwards, a favorite servant of mr. sheridan, who lived with him many years, was long celebrated for his professed imitation of the manner in which his master delivered (what seems to have struck edwards as the finest part of the speech) his closing words, "my lords, i have done!" the impeachment of warren hastings is one of those pageants in the drama of public life, which show how fleeting are the labors and triumphs of politicians--"what shadows they are, and what shadows they pursue." when we consider the importance which the great actors in that scene attached to it,--the grandeur with which their eloquence invested the cause, as one in which the liberties and rights of the whole human race were interested,--and then think how all that splendid array of law and of talent has dwindled away, in the view of most persons at present, into an unworthy and harassing persecution of a meritorious and successful statesman;--how those passionate appeals to justice, those vehement denunciations of crime, which made the halls of westminster and st. stephen's ring with their echoes, are now coldly judged, through the medium of disfiguring reports, and regarded, at the best, but as rhetorical effusions, indebted to temper for their warmth, and to fancy for their details;--while so little was the reputation of the delinquent himself even scorched by the bolts of eloquence thus launched at him, that a subsequent house of commons thought themselves honored by his presence, and welcomed him with such cheers [footnote: when called as a witness before the house, in , on the subject of the renewal of the east india company's charter.] as should reward only the friends and benefactors of freedom;--when we reflect on this thankless result of so much labor and talent, it seems wonderful that there should still be found high and gifted spirits, to waste themselves away in such temporary struggles, and, like that spendthrift of genius, sheridan, to _discount_ their immortality, for the payment of fame in hand which these triumphs of the day secure to them. for this direction, however, which the current of opinion has taken, with regard to mr. hastings and his eloquent accusers, there are many very obvious reasons to be assigned. success, as i have already remarked, was the dazzling talisman, which he waved in the eyes of his adversaries from the first, and which his friends have made use of to throw a splendor over his tyranny and injustice ever since. [footnote: in the important article of finance, however, for which he made so many sacrifices of humanity, even the justification of success was wanting to his measures. the following is the account given by the select committee of the house of commons in , of the state in which india was left by his administration:--"the revenues had been absorbed; the pay and allowances of both the civil and military branches of the service were greatly in arrear; the credit of the company was extremely depressed; and, added to all, the whole system had fallen into such irregularity and confusion, that the real state of affairs could not be _ascertained_ till the conclusion of the year - ."--_third report_.] too often in the moral logic of this world, it matters but little what the premises of conduct may be, so the conclusion but turns out showy and prosperous. there is also, it must be owned, among the english, (as perhaps, among all free people,) a strong taste for the arbitrary, when they themselves are not to be the victims of it, which invariably secures to such accomplished despotisms, as that of lord strafford in ireland, and hastings in india, even a larger share of their admiration than they are, themselves, always willing to allow. the rhetorical exaggerations, in which the managers of the prosecution indulged,--mr. sheridan, from imagination, luxuriating in its own display, and burke from the same cause, added to his overpowering autocracy of temper--were but too much calculated to throw suspicion on the cause in which they were employed, and to produce a reaction in favor of the person whom they were meant to overwhelm. "_rogo vos, judices_,"--mr. hastings might well have said,--"_si iste disertus est, ideo me damnari oportet?_" [footnote: seneca, controvers. lib. iii. c. .] there are also, without doubt, considerable allowances to be made, for the difficult situations in which mr. hastings was placed, and those impulses to wrong which acted upon him from all sides--allowances which will have more or less weight with the judgment, according as it may be more or less fastidiously disposed, in letting excuses for rapine and oppression pass muster. the incessant and urgent demands of the directors upon him for money may palliate, perhaps, the violence of those methods which he took to procure it for them; and the obstruction to his policy which would have arisen from a strict observance of treaties, may be admitted, by the same gentle casuistry, as an apology for his frequent infractions of them. another consideration to be taken into account, in our estimate of the character of mr. hastings as a ruler, is that strong light of publicity, which the practice in india of carrying on the business of government by written documents threw on all the machinery of his measures, deliberative as well as executive. these minutes, indeed, form a record of fluctuation and inconsistency--not only on the part of the governor-general, but of all the members of the government--a sort of weather-cock diary of opinions and principles, shifting with the interests or convenience of the moment, [footnote: instances of this, on the part of mr. hastings, are numberless. in remarking upon his corrupt transfer of the management of the nabob's household in , the directors say, "it is with equal surprise and concern that we observe this request introduced, and the nabob's ostensible rights so solemnly asserted at this period by our governor-general; because, on a late occasion, to serve a very different purpose, he has not scrupled to declare it as visible as the light of the sun, that the nabob is a mere pageant, and without even the shadow of authority." on another transaction in , mr. mill remarks:--"it is a curious moral spectacle to compare the minutes and letters of the governor-general, when, at the beginning of the year , maintaining the propriety of condemning the nabob to sustain the whole of the burden imposed upon him, and his minutes and letters maintaining the propriety of relieving him from those burthens in . the arguments and facts adduced on the one occasion, as well as the conclusion, are a flat contradiction to those exhibited on the other."] which entirely takes away our respect even for success, when issuing out of such a chaos of self-contradiction and shuffling. it cannot be denied, however, that such a system of exposure--submitted, as it was in this case, to a still further scrutiny, under the bold, denuding hands of a burke and a sheridan--was a test to which the councils of few rulers could with impunity be brought. where, indeed, is the statesman that could bear to have his obliquities thus chronicled? or where is the cabinet that would not shrink from such an inroad of light into its recesses? the undefined nature, too, of that power which the company exercised in india, and the uncertain state of the law, vibrating between the english and the hindoo codes, left such tempting openings for injustice as it was hardly possible to resist. with no public opinion to warn off authority from encroachment, and with the precedents set up by former rulers all pointing the wrong way, it would have been difficult, perhaps, for even more moderate men than hastings, not occasionally to break bounds and go continually astray. to all these considerations in his favor is to be added the apparently triumphant fact, that his government was popular among the natives of india, and that his name is still remembered by them with gratitude and respect. allowing mr. hastings, however, the full advantage of these and other strong pleas in his defence, it is yet impossible, for any real lover of justice and humanity, to read the plainest and least exaggerated history of his government, [footnote: nothing can be more partial and misleading than the coloring given to these transactions by mr. nicholls and other apologists of hastings. for the view which i have myself taken of the whole case i am chiefly indebted to the able history of british india by mr. mill--whose industrious research and clear analytical statements make him the most valuable authority that can be consulted on the subject. the mood of mind in which mr. nicholls listened to the proceedings of the impeachment may be judged from the following declaration, which he has had the courage to promulgate to the public:--"on this charge (the begum charge) mr. sheridan made a speech, which both sides of the house professed greatly to admire--for mr. pitt now openly approved of the impeachment. _i will acknowledge, that i did not admire this speech of mr. sheridan."_] without feeling deep indignation excited at almost every page of it. his predecessors had, it is true, been guilty of wrongs as glaring--the treachery of lord clive to omichund in , and the abandonment of ramnarain to meer causim under the administration of mr. vansittart, are stains upon the british character which no talents or glory can do away. there are precedents, indeed, to be found, through the annals of our indian empire, for the formation of the most perfect code of tyranny, in every department, legislative, judicial, and executive, that ever entered into the dreams of intoxicated power. but, while the practice of mr. hastings was, at least, as tyrannical as that of his predecessors, the principles upon which he founded that practice were still more odious and unpardonable. in his manner, indeed, of defending himself he is his own worst accuser--as there is no outrage of power, no violation of faith, that might not be justified by the versatile and ambidextrous doctrines, the lessons of deceit and rules of rapine, which he so ably illustrated by his measures, and has so shamelessly recorded with his pen. nothing but an early and deep initiation in the corrupting school of indian politics could have produced the facility with which, as occasion required, he could belie his own recorded assertions, turn hostilely round upon his own expressed opinions, disclaim the proxies which he himself had delegated, and, in short, get rid of all the inconveniences of personal identity, by never acknowledging himself to be bound by any engagement or opinion which himself had formed. to select the worst features of his administration is no very easy task; but the calculating cruelty with which he abetted the extermination of the rohillas--his unjust and precipitate execution of nuncomar, who had stood forth as his accuser, and, therefore, became his victim,--his violent aggression upon the raja of benares, and that combination of public and private rapacity, which is exhibited in the details of his conduct to the royal family of oude;--these are acts, proved by the testimony of himself and his accomplices, from the disgrace of which no formal acquittal upon points of law can absolve him, and whose guilt the allowances of charity may extenuate, but never can remove. that the perpetrator of such deeds should have been popular among the natives of india only proves how low was the standard of justice, to which the entire tenor of our policy had accustomed them;--but that a ruler of this character should be held up to admiration in england, is one of those anomalies with which england, more than any other nation, abounds, and only inclines us to wonder that the true worship of liberty should so long have continued to flourish in a country, where such heresies to her sacred cause are found. i have dwelt so long upon the circumstances and nature of this trial, not only on account of the conspicuous place which it occupies in the fore-ground of mr. sheridan's life, but because of that general interest which an observer of our institutions must take in it, from the clearness with which it brought into view some of their best and worst features. while, on one side, we perceive the weight of the popular scale, in the lead taken, upon an occasion of such solemnity and importance, by two persons brought forward from the middle ranks of society into the very van of political distinction and influence, on the other hand, in the sympathy and favor extended by the court to the practical assertor of despotic principles, we trace the prevalence of that feeling, which, since the commencement of the late king's reign, has made the throne the rallying point of all that are unfriendly to the cause of freedom. again, in considering the conduct of the crown lawyers during the trial--the narrow and irrational rules of evidence which they sought to establish--the unconstitutional control assumed by the judges, over the decisions of the tribunal before which the cause was tried, and the refusal to communicate the reasons upon which those decisions were founded--above all, too, the legal opinions expressed on the great question relative to the abatement of an impeachment by dissolution, in which almost the whole body of lawyers [footnote: among the rest, lord erskine, who allowed his profession, on this occasion, to stand in the light of his judgment. "as to a nisi-prius lawyer (said burke) giving an opinion on the duration of an impeachment--as well might a rabbit, that breeds six times a year, pretend to know any thing of the gestation of an elephant."] took the wrong, the pedantic, and the unstatesmanlike side of the question,--while in all these indications of the spirit of that profession, and of its propensity to tie down the giant truth, with its small threads of technicality and precedent, we perceive the danger to be apprehended from the interference of such a spirit in politics, on the other side, arrayed against these petty tactics of the forum, we see the broad banner of constitutional law, upheld alike by a fox and a pitt, a sheridan and a dundas, and find truth and good sense taking refuge from the equivocations of lawyers, in such consoling documents as the report upon the abuses of the trial by burke--a document which, if ever a reform of the english law should be attempted, will stand as a great guiding light to the adventurers in that heroic enterprise. it has been frequently asserted, that on the evening of mr. sheridan's grand display in the house of commons, the school for scandal and the duenna were acted at covent garden and drury lane, and thus three great audiences were at the same moment amused, agitated, and, as it were, wielded by the intellect of one man. as this triple triumph of talent--this manifestation of the power of genius to multiply itself, like an indian god--was, in the instance of sheridan, not only possible, but within the scope of a very easy arrangement, it is to be lamented that no such coincidence did actually take place, and that the ability to have achieved the miracle is all that can be with truth attributed to him. from a careful examination of the play-bills of the different theatres during this period, i have ascertained, with regret, that neither on the evening of the speech in the house of commons, nor on any of the days of the oration in westminster hall, was there, either at covent-garden, drury-lane, or haymarket theatres, any piece whatever of mr. sheridan's acted. the following passages of a letter from miss sheridan to her sister in ireland, written while on a visit with her brother in london, though referring to a later period of the trial, may without impropriety be inserted here:-- "just as i received your letter yesterday, i was setting out for the trial with mrs. crewe and mrs. dixon. i was fortunate in my day, as i heard all the principal speakers--mr. burke i admired the least--mr. fox very much indeed. the subject in itself was not particularly interesting, as the debate turned merely on a point of law, but the earnestness of his manner and the amazing precision with which he conveys his ideas is truly delightful. and last, not least, i heard my brother! i cannot express to you the sensation of pleasure and pride that filled my heart at the moment he rose. had i never seen him or heard his name before, i should have conceived him the first man among them at once. there is a dignity and grace in his countenance and deportment, very striking--at the same time that one cannot trace the smallest degree of conscious superiority in his manner. his voice, too, appeared to me extremely fine. the speech itself was not much calculated to display the talents of an orator, as of course it related only to dry matter. you may suppose i am not so lavish of praises before indifferent persons, but i am sure you will acquit me of partiality in what i have said. when they left the hall we walked about some time, and were joined by several of the managers--among the rest by mr. burke, whom we set down at his own house. they seem now to have better hopes of the business than they have had for some time; as the point urged with so much force and apparent success relates to very material evidence which the lords have refused to hear, but which, once produced, must prove strongly against mr. hastings; and, from what passed yesterday, they think their lordships must yield.--we sat in the king's box," &c. chapter ii. death of mr. sheridan's father.--verses by mrs. sheridan on the death of her sister, mrs. tickell. in the summer of this year the father of mr. sheridan died. he had been recommended to try the air of lisbon for his health, and had left dublin for that purpose, accompanied by his younger daughter. but the rapid increase of his malady prevented him from proceeding farther than margate, where he died about the beginning of august, attended in his last moments by his son richard. we have seen with what harshness, to use no stronger term, mr. sheridan was for many years treated by his father, and how persevering and affectionate were the efforts, in spite of many capricious repulses, that he made to be restored to forgiveness and favor. in his happiest moments, both of love and fame, the thought of being excluded from the paternal roof came across him with a chill that seemed to sadden all his triumph. [footnote: see the letter written by him immediately after his marriage, vol. i. page , and the anecdote in page , same vol.] when it is considered, too, that the father, to whom he felt thus amiably, had never distinguished him by any particular kindness but, on the contrary, had always shown a marked preference for the disposition and abilities of his brother charles--it is impossible not to acknowledge, in such true filial affection, a proof that talent was not the only ornament of sheridan, and that, however unfavorable to moral culture was the life that he led, nature, in forming his mind, had implanted there virtue, as well as genius. of the tender attention which he paid to his father on his death-bed, i am enabled to lay before the reader no less a testimony than the letters written at the time by miss sheridan, who, as i have already said, accompanied the old gentleman from ireland, and now shared with her brother the task of comforting his last moments. and here,--it is difficult even for contempt to keep down the indignation, that one cannot but feel at those slanderers, under the name of biographers, who calling in malice to the aid of their ignorance, have not scrupled to assert that the father of sheridan died unattended by any of his nearest relatives!--such are ever the marks that dulness leaves behind, in its gothic irruptions into the sanctuary of departed genius--defacing what it cannot understand, polluting what it has not the soul to reverence, and taking revenge for its own darkness, by the wanton profanation of all that is sacred in the eyes of others. immediately on the death of their father, sheridan removed his sister to deepden--a seat of the duke of norfolk in surrey, which his grace had lately lent him--and then returned, himself, to margate, to pay the last tribute to his father's remains. the letters of miss sheridan are addressed to her elder sister in ireland, and the first which i shall give entire, was written a day or two after her arrival at deepden. "my dear love, "_dibden, august ._ "though you have ever been uppermost in my thoughts, yet it has not been in my power to write since the few lines i sent from margate. i hope this will find you, in some degree, recovered from the shock you must have experienced from the late melancholy event. i trust to your own piety and the tenderness of your worthy husband, for procuring you such a degree of calmness of mind as may secure your health from injury. in the midst of what i have suffered i have been thankful that you did not share a scene of distress which you could not have relieved. i have supported myself, but i am sure, had we been together, we should have suffered more. "with regard to my brother's kindness, i can scarcely express to you how great it has been. he saw my father while he was still sensible, and never quitted him till the awful moment was past--i will not now dwell on particulars. my mind is not sufficiently recovered to enter on the subject, and you could only be distressed by it. he returns soon to margate to pay the last duties in the manner desired by my father. his feelings have been severely tried, and earnestly i pray he may not suffer from that cause, or from the fatigue he has endured. his tenderness to me i never can forget. i had so little claim on him, that i still feel a degree of surprise mixed with my gratitude. mrs. sheridan's reception of me was truly affectionate. they leave me to myself now as much as i please, as i had gone through so much fatigue of body and mind that i require some rest. i have not, as you may suppose, looked much beyond the present hour, but i begin to be more composed. i could now enjoy your society, and i wish for it hourly. i should think i may hope to see you sooner in england than you had intended; but you will write to me very soon, and let me know everything that concerns you. i know not whether you will feel like me a melancholy pleasure in the reflection that my father received the last kind offices from my brother richard, [footnote: in a letter, from which i have given an extract in the early part of this volume, written by the elder sister of sheridan a short time after his death, in referring to the differences that existed between him and his father, she says--"and yet it was that son, and not the object of his partial fondness, who at last closed his eyes." it generally happens that the injustice of such partialities is revenged by the ingratitude of those who are the objects of them; and the present instance, as there is but too much reason to believe, was not altogether an exception to the remark.] whose conduct on this occasion must convince every one of the goodness of his heart and the truth of his filial affection. one more reflection of consolation is, that nothing was omitted that could have prolonged his life or eased his latter hours. god bless and preserve you, my dear love. i shall soon write more to you, but shall for a short time suspend my journal, as still too many painful thoughts will crowd upon me to suffer me to regain such a frame of mind as i should wish when i write to you. "ever affectionately your "e. sheridan." in another letter, dated a few days after, she gives an account of the domestic life of mrs. sheridan, which, like everything that is related of that most interesting woman, excites a feeling towards her memory, little short of love. "my dear love, "_dibden, friday, ._ "i shall endeavor to resume my journal, though my anxiety to hear from you occupies my mind in a way that unfits me for writing. i have been here almost a week in perfect quiet. while there was company in the house, i stayed in my room, and since my brother's leaving us to go to margate, i have sat at times with mrs. sheridan, who is kind and considerate; so that i have entire liberty. her poor sister's [footnote: mrs. tickell.] children are all with her. the girl gives her constant employment, and seems to profit by being under so good an instructor. their father was here for some days, but i did not see him. last night mrs. s. showed me a picture of mrs. tickell, which she wears round her neck. the thing was misrepresented to you;--it was not done after her death, but a short time before it. the sketch was taken while she slept, by a painter at bristol. this mrs. sheridan got copied by cosway, who has softened down the traces of illness in such a way that the picture conveys no gloomy idea. it represents her in a sweet sleep; which must have been soothing to her friend, after seeing her for a length of time in a state of constant suffering. "my brother left us wednesday morning, and we do not expect him to return for some days. he meant only to stay at margate long enough to attend the last melancholy office, which it was my poor father's express desire should be performed in whatever parish he died. * * * * * "_sunday_. "dick is still in town, and we do not expect him for some time. mrs. sheridan seems now quite reconciled to these little absences, which she knows are unavoidable. i never saw any one so constant in employing every moment of her time, and to that i attribute, in a great measure, the recovery of her health and spirits. the education of her niece, her music, books, and work, occupy every minute of the day. after dinner, the children, who call her "mamma-aunt," spend some time with us, and her manner to them is truly delightful. the girl, you know, is the eldest. the eldest boy is about five years old, very like his father, but extremely gentle in his manners. the youngest is past three. the whole set then retire to the music-room. as yet i cannot enjoy their parties;--a song from mrs. sheridan affected me last night in a most painful manner. i shall not try the experiment soon again. mrs. s. blamed herself for putting me to the trial, and, after tea, got a book, which she read to us till supper. this, i find, is the general way of passing the evening. "they are now at their music, and i have retired to add a few lines. this day has been more gloomy than we have been for some days past;--it is the first day of our getting into mourning. all the servants in deep mourning made a melancholy appearance, and i found it very difficult to sit out the dinner. but as i have dined below since there has been only mrs. sheridan and miss linley here, i would not suffer a circumstance, to which i must accustom myself, to break in on their comfort." these children, to whom mrs. sheridan thus wholly devoted herself, and continued to do so for the remainder of her life, had lost their mother, mrs. tickell, in the year , by the same complaint that afterwards proved fatal to their aunt. the passionate attachment of mrs. sheridan to this sister, and the deep grief with which she mourned her loss, are expressed in a poem of her own so touchingly, that, to those who love the language of real feeling, i need not apologize for their introduction here. poetry, in general, is but a cold interpreter of sorrow; and the more it displays its skill, as an art, the less is it likely to do justice to nature. in writing these verses, however, the workmanship was forgotten in the subject; and the critic, to feel them as he ought, should forget his own craft in reading them. "_written in the spring of the year ._ "the hours and days pass on;--sweet spring returns, and whispers comfort to the heart that mourns: but not to mine, whose dear and cherish'd grief asks for indulgence, but ne'er hopes relief. for, ah, can changing seasons e'er restore the lov'd companion i must still deplore? shall all the wisdom of the world combin'd erase thy image, mary, from my mind, or bid me hope from others to receive the fond affection thou alone could'st give? ah, no, my best belov'd, thou still shalt be my friend, my sister, all the world to me. "with tender woe sad memory woos back time, and paints the scenes when youth was in its prime; the craggy hill, where rocks, with wild flow'rs crown'd, burst from the hazle copse or verdant ground; where sportive nature every form assumes, and, gaily lavish, wastes a thousand blooms; where oft we heard the echoing hills repeat our untaught strains and rural ditties sweet, till purpling clouds proclaimed the closing day, while distant streams detain'd the parting ray. then on some mossy stone we'd sit us down, and watch the changing sky and shadows brown, that swiftly glided o'er the mead below, or in some fancied form descended slow. how oft, well pleas'd each other to adorn, we stripped the blossoms from the fragrant thorn, or caught the violet where, in humble bed, asham'd its own sweets it hung its head. but, oh, what rapture mary's eyes would speak, through her dark hair how rosy glow'd her cheek, if, in her playful search, she saw appear the first-blown cowslip of the opening year. thy gales, oh spring, then whisper'd life and joy;-- now mem'ry wakes thy pleasures to destroy, and all thy beauties serve but to renew regrets too keen for reason to subdue. ah me! while tender recollections rise, the ready tears obscure my sadden'd eyes, and, while surrounding objects they conceal, _her_ form belov'd the trembling drops reveal. "sometimes the lovely, blooming girl i view. my youth's companion, friend for ever true, whose looks, the sweet expressions of her heart so gaily innocent, so void of art, with soft attraction whisper'd blessings drew from all who stopp'd, her beauteous face to view. then in the dear domestic scene i mourn, and weep past pleasures never to return! there, where each gentle virtue lov'd to rest. in the pure mansion of my mary's breast, the days of social happiness are o'er, the voice of harmony is heard no more; no more her graceful tenderness shall prove the wife's fond duty or the parent's love. those eyes, which brighten'd with maternal pride, as her sweet infants wanton'd by her side, 'twas my sad fate to see for ever close on life, on love, the world, and all its woes; to watch the slow disease, with hopeless care, and veil in painful smiles my heart's despair; to see her droop, with restless languor weak, while fatal beauty mantled in her cheek, like fresh flow'rs springing from some mouldering clay, cherish'd by death, and blooming from decay. yet, tho' oppress'd by ever-varying pain, the gentle sufferer scarcely would complain, hid every sigh, each trembling doubt reprov'd, to spare a pang to those fond hearts she lov'd. and often, in short intervals of ease, her kind and cheerful spirit strove to please; whilst we, alas, unable to refuse the sad delight we were so soon to lose, treasur'd each word, each kind expression claim'd,-- ''twas me she look'd at,'--'it was me she nam'd.' thus fondly soothing grief, too great to bear, with mournful eagerness and jealous care. "but soon, alas, from hearts with sorrow worn e'en this last comfort was for ever torn: that mind, the seat of wisdom, genius, taste. the cruel hand of sickness now laid waste; subdued with pain, it shar'd the common lot. all, all its lovely energies forgot! the husband, parent, sister, knelt in vain, one recollecting look alone to gain: the shades of night her beaming eyes obscur'd, and nature, vanquished, no sharp pain endur'd; calm and serene--till the last trembling breath wafted an angel from the bed of death! "oh, if the soul, releas'd from mortal cares, views the sad scene, the voice of mourning hears, then, dearest saint, didst thou thy heav'n forego, lingering on earth in pity to our woe. 'twas thy kind influence sooth'd our minds to peace. and bade our vain and selfish murmurs cease; 'twas thy soft smile, that gave the worshipp'd clay of thy bright essence one celestial ray, making e'en death so beautiful, that we, gazing on it, forgot our misery. then--pleasing thought!--ere to the realms of light thy franchis'd spirit took its happy flight, with fond regard, perhaps, thou saw'st me bend o'er the cold relics of my heart's best friend, and heard'st me swear, while her dear hand i prest. and tears of agony bedew'd my breast, for her lov'd sake to act the mother's part, and take her darling infants to my heart, with tenderest care their youthful minds improve, and guard her treasure with protecting love. once more look down, blest creature, and behold these arms the precious innocence enfold; assist my erring nature to fulfil the sacred trust, and ward off every ill! and, oh, let _her_, who is my dearest care, thy blest regard and heavenly influence share; teach me to form her pure and artless mind, like thine, as true, as innocent, as kind,-- that when some future day my hopes shall bless, and every voice her virtue shall confess, when my fond heart delighted hears her praise, as with unconscious loveliness she strays, 'such,' let me say, with tears of joy the while, 'such was the softness of my mary's smile; such was _her_ youth, so blithe, so rosy sweet, and such _her_ mind, unpractis'd in deceit; with artless elegance, unstudied grace, thus did _she_ gain in every heart a place!' "then, while the dear remembrance i behold, time shall steal on, nor tell me i am old, till, nature wearied, each fond duty o'er, i join my angel friend--to part no more!" to the conduct of mr. sheridan, during the last moments of his father, a further testimony has been kindly communicated to me by mr. jarvis, a medical gentleman of margate, who attended mr. thomas sheridan on that occasion, and whose interesting communication i shall here give in his own words:-- "on the th of august, , i was first called on to visit mr. sheridan, who was then fast declining at his lodgings in this place, where he was in the care of his daughter. on the next day mr. r. b. sheridan arrived here from town, having brought with him dr. morris, of parliament street. i was in the bedroom with mr. sheridan when the son arrived, and witnessed an interview in which the father showed himself to be strongly impressed by his son's attention, saying with considerable emotion, 'oh dick, i give you a great deal of trouble!' and seeming to imply by his manner, that his son had been less to blame than himself, for any previous want of cordiality between them. "on my making my last call for the evening, mr. r. b. sheridan, with delicacy, but much earnestness, expressed his fear that the nurse in attendance on his father, might not be so competent as myself to the requisite attentions, and his hope that i would consent to remain in the room for a few of the first hours of the night; as he himself, having been travelling the preceding night, required some short repose. i complied with his request, and remained at the father's bed-side till relieved by the son, about three o'clock in the morning:--he then insisted on taking my place. from this time he never quitted the house till his father's death; on the day after which he wrote me a letter, now before me, of which the annexed is an exact copy: 'sir, '_friday morning_, 'i wished to see you this morning before i went, to thank you for your attention and trouble. you will be so good to give the account to mr. thompson, who will settle it; and i must further beg your acceptance of the inclosed from myself. 'i am, sir, 'your obedient servant, 'r. b. sheridan. 'i have explained to dr. morris (who has informed me that you will recommend a proper person), that it is my desire to have the hearse, and the manner of coming to town, as respectful as possible.' "the inclosure, referred to in this letter, was a bank-note of ten pounds,--a most liberal remuneration. mr. r. b. sheridan left margate, intending that his father should be buried in london; but he there ascertained that it had been his father's expressed wish that he should be buried in the parish next to that in which he should happen to die. he then, consequently, returned to margate, accompanied by his brother-in-law, mr. tickell, with whom and mr. thompson and myself, he followed his father's remains to the burial-place, which was not in margate church-yard, but in the north aisle of the church of st. peter's." mr. jarvis, the writer of the letter from which i have given this extract, had once, as he informs me, the intention of having a cenotaph raised, to the memory of mr. sheridan's father, in the church of margate. [footnote: though this idea was relinquished, it appears that a friend of mr. jarvis, with a zeal for the memory of talent highly honorable to him, has recently caused a monument to mr. thomas sheridan to be raised in the church of st. peter.] with this view he applied to dr. parr for an inscription, and the following is the tribute to his old friend with which that learned and kind-hearted man supplied him:-- "this monument, a. d. , was, by subscription, erected to the memory of thomas sheridan, esq., who died in the neighboring parish of st. john, august , , in the th year of his age, and, according to his own request, was there buried. he was grandson to dr. thomas sheridan, the brother of dr. william, a conscientious non-juror, who, in , was deprived of the bishopric of kilmore. he was the son of dr. thomas sheridan, a profound scholar and eminent schoolmaster, intimately connected with dean swift and other illustrious writers in the reign of queen anne. he was husband to the ingenious and amiable author of sidney biddulph and several dramatic pieces favorably received. he was father of the celebrated orator and dramatist, richard brinsley sheridan. he had been the schoolfellow, and, through life, was the companion, of the amiable archbishop markham. he was the friend of the learned dr. sumner, master of harrow school, and the well-known dr. parr. he took his first academical degree in the university of dublin, about . he was honored by the university of oxford with the degree of a. m. in , and in he obtained the same distinction at cambridge. he, for many years, presided over the theatre of dublin; and, at drury lane, he in public estimation stood next to david garrick. in the literary world he was distinguished by numerous and useful writings on the pronunciation of the english language. through some of his opinions ran a vein of singularity, mingled with the rich ore of genius. in his manners there was dignified ease;--in his spirit, invincible firmness;--and in his habits and principles, unsullied integrity." chapter iii. illness of the king.--regency.--private life of mr. sheridan. mr. sheridan had assuredly no reason to complain of any deficiency of excitement in the new career to which he now devoted himself. a succession of great questions, both foreign and domestic, came, one after the other, like the waves described by the poet;-- "and one no sooner touched the shore, and died, than a new follower rose, and swell'd as proudly." scarcely had the impulse, which his own genius had given to the prosecution of hastings, begun to abate, when the indisposition of the king opened another field, not only for the display of all his various powers, but for the fondest speculations of his interest and ambition. the robust health and temperate habits of the monarch, while they held out the temptation of a long lease of power, to those who either enjoyed or were inclined to speculate in his favor, gave proportionally the grace of disinterestedness to the followers of an heir-apparent, whose means of rewarding their devotion were, from the same causes, uncertain and remote. the alarming illness of the monarch, however, gave a new turn to the prospect:--hope was now seen, like the winged victory of the ancients, to change sides; and both the expectations of those who looked forward to the reign of the prince, as the great and happy millennium of whiggism, and the apprehensions of the far greater number, to whom the morals of his royal highness and his friends were not less formidable than their politics, seemed now on the very eve of being realized. on the first meeting of parliament, after the illness of his majesty was known, it was resolved, from considerations of delicacy, that the house should adjourn for a fortnight; at the end of which period it was expected that another short adjournment would be proposed by the minister. in this interval, the following judicious letter was addressed to the prince of wales by mr. sheridan:-- "sir, "prom the intelligence of to-day we are led to think that pitt will make something more of a speech, in moving to adjourn on thursday, than was at first imagined. in this case we presume your royal highness will be of opinion that we must not be wholly silent. i possessed payne yesterday with my sentiments on the line of conduct which appeared to me best to be adopted on this occasion, that they might be submitted to your royal highness's consideration; and i take the liberty of repeating my firm conviction, that it will greatly advance your royal highness's credit, and, in case of events, lay the strongest grounds to baffle every attempt at opposition to your royal highness's just claims and right, that the language of those who may be, in any sort, suspected of knowing your royal highness's wishes and feelings, should be that of great moderation in disclaiming all party views, and avowing the utmost readiness to acquiesce in any reasonable delay. at the same time, i am perfectly aware of the arts which will be practised, and the advantages which some people will attempt to gain by time: but i am equally convinced that we should advance their evil views by showing the least impatience or suspicion at present; and i am also convinced that a third party will soon appear, whose efforts may, in the most decisive manner, prevent this sort of situation and proceeding from continuing long. payne will probably have submitted to your royal highness more fully my idea on this subject, towards which i have already taken some successful steps. [footnote: this must allude to the negotiation with lord thurlow.] your royal highness will, i am sure, have the goodness to pardon the freedom with which i give my opinion;--after which i have only to add, that whatever your royal highness's judgment decides, shall be the guide of my conduct, and will undoubtedly be so to others." captain (afterwards admiral) payne, of whom mention is made in this letter, held the situation of comptroller of the household of the prince of wales, and was in attendance upon his royal highness, during the early part of the king's illness, at windsor. the following letters, addressed by him to mr. sheridan at this period, contain some curious particulars, both with respect to the royal patient himself, and the feelings of those about him, which, however secret and confidential they were at the time, may now, without scruple, be made matters of history:-- "my dear sheridan, "_half past ten at night_. "i arrived here about three quarters of an hour after pitt had left it. i inclose you the copy of a letter the prince has just written to the chancellor, and sent by express, which will give you the outline of the conversation with the prince, as well as the situation of the king's health. i think it an advisable measure, [footnote: meaning, the communication to the chancellor] as it is a sword that cuts both ways, without being unfit to be shown to whom he pleases,--but which he will, i think, understand best himself. pitt desired the longest delay that could be granted with propriety, previous to the declaration of the present calamity. the duke of york, who is looking over me, and is just come out of the king's room, bids me add that his majesty's situation is every moment becoming worse. his pulse is weaker and weaker; and the doctors say it is impossible to survive it long, if his situation does not take some _extraordinary_ change in a few hours. "so far i had got when your servant came, meaning to send this by the express that carried the chancellor's letter; in addition to which, the prince has desired doctor warren to write an account to him, which he is now doing. his letter says, if an amendment does not take place in twenty-four hours, it is impossible for the king to support it:--he adds to me, he will answer for his never living to be declared a lunatic. i say all this to you in confidence, (though i will not answer for being intelligible,) as it goes by your own servant; but i need not add, your own discretion will remind you how necessary it is that neither my name nor those i use should be quoted even to many of our best friends, whose repetition, without any ill intention, might frustrate views they do not see. "with respect to the papers, the prince thinks you had better leave them to themselves, as we cannot authorize any report, nor can he contradict the worst; a few hours must, every individual says, terminate our suspense, and, therefore, all precaution must be needless:--however, do what you think best. his royal highness would write to you himself; the agitation he is in will not permit it. since this letter was begun, all articulation even seems to be at an end with the poor king: but for the two hours preceding, he was in a most determined frenzy. in short, i am myself in so violent a state of agitation, from participating in the feelings of those about me, that if i am intelligible to you, 'tis more than i am to myself. cataplasms are on his majesty's feet, and strong fomentations have been used without effect: but let me quit so painful a subject. the prince was much pleased with my conversation with lord loughborough, to whom i do not write, as i conceive 'tis the same, writing to you. "the archbishop has written a very handsome letter, expressive of his duty and offer of service; but he is not required to come down, it being thought too late. "good night.--i will write upon every occasion that information may be useful. "ever yours, most sincerely, "j. w. payne. "i have been much pleased with the _duke's_ zeal since my return, especially in this communication to you." "dear sheridan, "_twelve o'clock, noon._ "the king last night about twelve o'clock, being then in a situation he could not long have survived, by the effect of james's powder, had a profuse stool, after which a strong perspiration appeared, and he fell into a profound sleep. we were in hopes this was the crisis of his disorder, although the doctors were fearful it was so only with respect to one part of his disorder. however, these hopes continued not above an hour, when he awoke, with a well-conditioned skin, no extraordinary degree of fever, but with the exact state he was in before, with all the gestures and ravings of the most confirmed maniac, and a new noise, in imitation of the howling of a dog; in this situation he was this morning at one o'clock, when we came to bed. the duke of york, who has been twice in my room in the course of the night, immediately from the king's apartment, says there has not been one moment of lucid interval during the whole night,--which, i must observe to you, is the concurring, as well as _fatal_ testimony of all about him, from the first moment of his majesty's confinement. the doctors have since had their consultation, and find his majesty calmer, and his pulse tolerably good and much reduced, but the most decided symptoms of insanity. his theme has been all this day on the subject of religion, and of his being inspired, from which his physicians draw the worst consequences, as to any hopes of amendment. in this situation his majesty remains at the present moment, which i give you at length, to prevent your giving credit to the thousand ridiculous reports that we hear, even upon the spot. truth is not easily got at in palaces, and so i find here; and time only slowly brings it to one's knowledge. one hears a little bit every day from somebody, that has been reserved with great costiveness, or purposely forgotten; and by all such accounts i find that the present distemper has been very palpable for some time past, previous to any confinement from sickness; and so apprehensive have the people about him been of giving offence by interruption, that the two days (viz. yesterday se'nnight and the monday following) that he was five hours each on horseback, he was in a confirmed frenzy. on the monday at his return he burst out into tears to the duke of york, and said, 'he wished to god he might die, i for he was going to be mad;' and the queen, who sent to dr. warren, on his arrival, privately communicated her knowledge of his situation for some time past, and the melancholy event as it stood exposed. i am prolix upon all these different reports, that you may be completely master of the subject as it stands, and which i shall continue to advertise you of in all its variations. warren, who is the living principle in this business, (for poor baker is half crazed himself,) and who i see every half hour, is extremely attentive to the king's disorder. the various fluctuations of his ravings, as well as general situation of his health, are accurately written down throughout the day, and this we have got signed by the physician every day, and all proper inquiry invited; for i think it necessary to do every thing that may prevent their making use hereafter of any thing like jealousy, suspicion, or mystery, to create public distrust; and, therefore, the best and most unequivocal means of satisfaction shall be always attended to. "_five o'clock, p.m._ "so far i had proceeded when i was, on some business of importance, obliged to break off till now; and, on my return, found your letter;--i need not, i hope, say your confidence is as safe as if it was returned to your own mind, and your advice will always be thankfully adopted. the event we looked for last night is postponed, perhaps for a short time, so that, at least, we shall have time to consider more maturely. the doctors told pitt they would beg not to be obliged to make their declaration for a fortnight as to the incurability of the king's mind, and not to be surprised if, at the expiration of that time, they should ask more time; but that they were perfectly ready to declare now for the furtherance of public business, that he is now insane; that it appears to be unconnected with any other disease of his body, and that they have tried all their skill without effect, and that to the _disease they at present see no end in their contemplation:_--these are their own words, which is all that can be implied in an absolute declaration,--for infallibility cannot be ascribed to them. "should not something be done about the public amusements? if it was represented to pitt, it might embarrass them either way; particularly as it might call for a public account every day. i think the chancellor might take a good opportunity to break with his colleagues, if they propose restriction, the law authority would have great weight with us, as well as preventing even a design of moving the city;--at all events, i think parliament would not confirm their opinion. if pitt stirs much, i think any attempt to _grasp at power_ might be fatal to his interest, at least, well turned against it. "the prince has sent for me directly, so i'll send this now, and write again." in the words, "i think the chancellor might take a good opportunity to break with his colleagues," the writer alludes to a negotiation which sheridan had entered into with lord thurlow, and by which it was expected that the co-operation of that learned lord might be secured, in consideration of his being allowed to retain the office of chancellor under the regency. lord thurlow was one of those persons who, being taken by the world at their own estimate of themselves, contrive to pass upon the times in which they live for much more than they are worth. his bluntness gained him credit for superior honesty, and the same peculiarity of exterior gave a weight, not their own, to his talents; the roughness of the diamond being, by a very common mistake, made the measure of its value. the negotiation for his alliance on this occasion was managed, if not first suggested, by sheridan; and mr. fox, on his arrival from the continent, (having been sent for express upon the first announcement of the king's illness,) found considerable progress already made in the preliminaries of this heterogeneous compact. the following letter from admiral payne, written immediately after the return of mr. fox, contains some further allusions to the negotiations with the chancellor:-- "my dear sheridan, "i am this moment returned with the prince from riding, and heard, with great pleasure, of charles fox's arrival; on which account, he says, i must go to town to-morrow, when i hope to meet you at his house some time before dinner. the prince is to see the chancellor to-morrow, and therefore he wishes i should be able to carry to town the result of this interview, or i would set off immediately. due deference is had to our _former opinion_ upon this subject, and no courtship will be practised; for the chief object in the visit is to show him the king, who has been worse the two last days than ever: this morning he made an effort to jump out of the window, and is now very turbulent and incoherent. sir g. baker went yesterday to give pitt a little specimen of his loquacity, in his discovery of some material state-secrets, at which he looked astonished. the physicians wish him to be removed to kew; on which we shall proceed as we settled. have you heard any thing of the foreign ministers respecting what the p. said at bagshot? the frenchman has been here two days running, but has not seen the prince. he sat with me half an hour this morning, and seemed much disposed to confer a little closely. he was all admiration and friendship for the prince, and said he was sure _every body_ would unite to give vigor to his government. "to-morrow you shall hear particulars; in the mean time i can only add i have none of the apprehensions contained in lord l.'s letter. i have had correspondence enough myself on this subject to convince me of the impossibility of the ministry managing the present parliament by any contrivance hostile to the prince. dinner is on table; so adieu; and be assured of the truth and sincerity of "yours affectionately, "_windsor, monday, o'clock, p. m._ "j. w. p. "i have just got rodney's proxy sent." the situation in which mr. fox was placed by the treaty thus commenced, before his arrival, with the chancellor, was not a little embarrassing. in addition to the distaste which he must have felt for such a union, he had been already, it appears, in some degree pledged to bestow the great seal, in the event of a change, upon lord loughborough. finding, however, the prince and his party so far committed in the negotiation with lord thurlow, he thought it expedient, however contrary to his own wishes, to accede to their views; and a letter, addressed by him to mr. sheridan on the occasion, shows the struggle with his own feelings and opinions, which this concession cost him:-- "dear sheridan, "i have swallowed the pill,--a most bitter one it was,--and have written to lord loughborough, whose answer of course must be consent. what is to be done next? should the prince himself, you, or i, or warren, be the person to speak to the chancellor? the objection to the last is, that he must probably wait for an opportunity, and that no time is to be lost. pray tell me what is to be done: i am convinced, after all, the negotiation will not succeed, and am not sure that i am sorry for it. i do not remember ever feeling so uneasy about any political thing i ever did in my life. call if you can. "yours ever, "c. j. f." _sat. past ._ lord loughborough, in the mean time, with a vigilance quickened by his own personal views, kept watch on the mysterious movements of the chancellor; and, as appears by the following letter, not only saw reason to suspect duplicity himself, but took care that mr. fox and mr. sheridan should share in his distrust:-- "my dear s. "i was afraid to pursue the conversation on the circumstance of the inspection committed to the chancellor, lest the reflections that arise upon it might have made too strong an impression on some of our neighbors last night. it does indeed appear to me full of mischief, and of that sort most likely to affect the apprehensions of our best friends, (of lord john for instance,) and to increase their reluctance to take any active part. "the chancellor's object evidently is to make his way by himself, and he has managed hitherto as one very well practised in that game. his conversations, both with you and mr. fox, were encouraging, but at the same time checked all explanations on his part under a pretence of delicacy towards his colleagues. when he let them go to salthill and contrived to dine at windsor, he certainly took a step that most men would have felt not very delicate in its appearance, and unless there was some private understanding between him and them, not altogether fair; especially if you add to it the sort of conversation he held with regard to them. i cannot help thinking that the difficulties of managing the patient have been excited or improved to lead to the proposal of his inspection, (without the prince being conscious of it,) for by that situation he gains an easy and frequent access to him, and an opportunity of possessing the confidence of the queen. i believe this the more from the account of the tenderness he showed at his first interview, for i am sure, it is not in his character to feel any. with a little instruction from lord hawksbury, the sort of management that was carried on by means of the princess-dowager, in the early part of the reign, may easily be practised. in short, i think he will try to find the key of the back stairs, and, with that in his pocket, take any situation that preserves his access, and enables him to hold a line between different parties. in the present moment, however, he has taken a position that puts the command of the house of lords in his hands, for * * * * * * *. [footnote: the remainder of this sentence is effaced by damp] "i wish mr. fox and you would give these considerations what weight you think they deserve, and try if any means can be taken to remedy this mischief, if it appears in the same light to you. "ever yours, &c." what were the motives that induced lord thurlow to break off so suddenly his negotiation with the prince's party, and declare himself with such vehemence on the side of the king and mr. pitt, it does not appear very easy to ascertain. possibly, from his opportunities of visiting the royal patient, he had been led to conceive sufficient hopes of recovery, to incline the balance of his speculation that way; or, perhaps, in the influence of lord loughborough [footnote: lord loughborough is supposed to have been the person who instilled into the mind of mr. fox the idea of advancing that claim of right for the prince, which gave mr. pitt, in principle as well as in fact, such an advantage over him.] over mr. fox, he saw a risk of being supplanted in his views on the great seal. whatever may have been the motive, it is certain that his negotiation with the whigs had been amicably carried on, till within a few hours of his delivery of that speech, from whose enthusiasm the public could little suspect how fresh from the incomplete bargain of defection was the speaker, and in the course of which he gave vent to the well-known declaration, that "his debt of gratitude to his majesty was ample, for the many favors he had graciously conferred upon him, which, when he forgot, might god forget him!" [footnote: "forget you!" said wildes, "he'll see you d---d first."] as it is not my desire to imitate those biographers, who swell their pages with details that belong more properly to history, i shall forbear to enter into a minute or consecutive narrative of the proceedings of parliament on the important subject of the regency. a writer of political biography has a right, no doubt, like an engineer who constructs a navigable canal, to lay every brook and spring in the neighborhood under contribution for the supply and enrichment of his work. but, to turn into it the whole contents of the annual register and parliamentary debates is a sort of literary engineering, not quite so laudable, which, after the example set by a right reverend biographer of mr. pitt, will hardly again be attempted by any one, whose ambition, at least, it is to be read as well as bought. mr. fox and mr. pitt, it is well known, differed essentially, not only with respect to the form of the proceedings, which the latter recommended in that suspension of the royal authority, but also with respect to the abstract constitutional principles, upon which those proceedings of the minister were professedly founded. as soon as the nature of the malady, with which the king was afflicted, had been ascertained by a regular examination of the physicians in attendance on his majesty, mr. pitt moved (on the th of december), that a "committee be appointed to examine and report precedents of such proceedings as may have been had, in case of the personal exercise of the royal authority being prevented or interrupted, by infancy, sickness, infirmity, or otherwise, with a view to provide for the same." [footnote: mr. burke and mr. sheridan were both members of this committee, and the following letter from the former to sheridan refers to it:-- "my dear sir, "my idea was, that on fox's declaring that the precedents, neither individually nor collectively, do at all apply, our attendance ought to have been merely formal. but as you think otherwise, i shall certainly be at the committee soon after one. i rather think, that they will not attempt to garble: because, supposing the precedents to apply, the major part are certainly in their favor. it is not likely that they mean to suppress,--but it is good to be on our guard. "ever most truly yours, &c. "edmund burke." _gerard street, thursday morning_.] it was immediately upon this motion that mr. fox advanced that inconsiderate claim of right for the prince of wales, of which his rival availed himself so dexterously and triumphantly. having asserted that there existed no precedent whatever that could bear upon the present case, mr. fox proceeded to say, that "the circumstance to be provided for did not depend upon their deliberations as a house of parliament,--it rested elsewhere. there was then a person in the kingdom, different from any other person that any existing precedents could refer to,--an heir apparent, of full age and capacity to exercise the royal power. it behoved them, therefore, to waste not a moment unnecessarily, but to proceed with all becoming speed and diligence to restore the sovereign power and the exercise of the royal authority. from what he had read of history, from the ideas he had formed of the law, and, what was still more precious, of the spirit of the constitution, from every reasoning and analogy drawn from those sources, he declared that he had not in his mind a doubt, and he should think himself culpable if he did not take the first opportunity of declaring it, that, in the present condition of his majesty, his royal highness the prince of wales had as clear, as express a right to exercise the power of sovereignty, during the continuance of the illness and incapacity, with which it had pleased god to afflict his majesty, as in the case of his majesty's having undergone a natural demise." it is said that, during the delivery of this adventurous opinion, the countenance of mr. pitt was seen to brighten with exultation at the mistake into which he perceived his adversary was hurrying; and scarcely had the sentence, just quoted, been concluded, when, slapping his thigh triumphantly, he turned to the person who sat next to him, and said, "i'll _un-whig_ the gentleman for the rest of his life!" even without this anecdote, which may be depended upon as authentic, we have sufficient evidence that such were his feelings in the burst of animation and confidence with which he instantly replied to mr. fox,--taking his ground, with an almost equal temerity, upon the directly opposite doctrine, and asserting, not only that "in the case of the interruption of the personal exercise of the royal authority, it devolved upon the other branches of the legislature to provide a substitute for that authority," but that "the prince of wales had no more right to exercise the powers of government than any other person in the realm." the truth is, the assertion of a _right_ was equally erroneous, on both sides of the question. the constitution having provided no legal remedy for such an exigence as had now occurred, the two houses of parliament had as little right (in the strict sense of the word) to supply the deficiency of the royal power, as the prince had to be the person elected or adjudged for that purpose. constitutional analogy and expediency were the only authorities by which the measures necessary in such a conjuncture could be either guided or sanctioned; and if the disputants on each side had softened down their tone to this true and practical view of the case, there would have been no material difference, in the first stage of the proceedings between them,--mr. pitt being ready to allow that the heir apparent was the obvious person to whom expediency pointed as the depository of the royal power, and mr. fox having granted, in a subsequent explanation of his doctrine, that, strong as was the right upon which the claim of the prince was founded, his royal highness could not assume that right till it had been formally adjudicated to him by parliament. the principle, however, having been imprudently broached, mr. pitt was too expert a tactician not to avail himself of the advantage it gave him. he was thus, indeed, furnished with an opportunity, not only of gaining time by an artful protraction of the discussions, but of occupying victoriously the ground of whiggism, which mr. fox had, in his impatience or precipitancy, deserted, and of thus adding to the character, which he had recently acquired, of a defender of the prerogatives of the crown, the more brilliant reputation of an assertor of the rights of the people. in the popular view which mr. pitt found it convenient to take of this question, he was led, or fell voluntarily into some glaring errors, which pervaded the whole of his reasonings on the subject. in his anxiety to prove the omnipotence of parliament, he evidently confounded the estates of the realm with the legislature, [footnote: mr. grattan and the irish parliament carried this error still farther, and founded all their proceedings on the necessity of "providing for the deficiency of the third _estate_."] and attributed to two branches of the latter such powers as are only legally possessed by the whole three in parliament assembled. for the purpose, too, of flattering the people with the notion that to them had now reverted the right of choosing their temporary sovereign, he applied a principle, which ought to be reserved for extreme cases, to an exigence by no means requiring this ultimate appeal,--the defect in the government being such as the still existing estates of the realm, appointed to speak the will of the people, but superseding any direct exercise of their power, were fully competent, as in the instance of the revolution, to remedy. [footnote: the most luminous view that has been taken of this question is to be found in an article of the edinburgh review, on the regency of ,--written by one of the most learned and able men of our day, mr. john allen.] indeed, the solemn use of such language as mr. pitt, in his over-acted whiggism, employed upon this occasion,--namely, that the "right" of appointing a substitute for the royal power was "to be found in the voice and the sense of the people,"--is applicable only to those conjunctures, brought on by misrule and oppression, when all forms are lost in the necessity of relief, and when the right of the people to change and choose their rulers is among the most sacred and inalienable that either nature or social polity has ordained. but, to apply the language of that last resource to the present emergency was to brandish the sword of goliath [footnote: a simile applied by lord somers to the power of impeachment, which, he said, "should be like goliath's sword, kept in the temple, and not used but upon great occasions."] on an occasion that by no means called for it. the question of the prince's claim,--in spite of the efforts of the prince himself and of his royal relatives to avert the agitation of it,--was, for evident reasons, forced into discussion by the minister, and decided by a majority, not only of the two houses but of the nation, in his favor. during one of the long debates to which the question gave rise, mr. sheridan allowed himself to be betrayed into some expressions, which, considering the delicate predicament in which the prince was placed by the controversy, were not marked with his usual tact and sagacity. in alluding to the claim of right advanced for his royal highness, and deprecating any further agitation of it, he "reminded the right honorable gentleman (mr. pitt) of the danger of provoking that claim to be asserted [a loud cry of hear! hear!], which, he observed, had not yet been preferred. [another cry of hear! hear!]" this was the very language that mr. pitt most wished his adversaries to assume, and, accordingly, he turned it to account with all his usual mastery and haughtiness. "he had now," he said, "an additional reason for asserting the authority of the house, and defining the boundaries of right, when the deliberative faculties of parliament were invaded, and an indecent menace thrown out to awe and influence their proceedings. in the discussion of the question, the house, he trusted, would do their duty, in spite of any threat that might be thrown out. men, who felt their native freedom, would not submit to a threat, however high the authority from which it might come." [footnote: _impartial report of all the proceedings on the subject of the regency_] the restrictions of the prerogative with which mr. pitt thought proper to encumber the transfer of the royal power to the prince, formed the second great point of discussion between the parties, and brought equally adverse principles into play. mr. fox, still maintaining his position on the side of royalty, defended it with much more tenable weapons than the question of right had enabled him to wield. so founded, indeed, in the purest principles of whiggism did he consider his opposition, on this memorable occasion, to any limitation of the prerogative in the hands of a regent, that he has, in his history of james ii., put those principles deliberately upon record, as a fundamental article in the creed of his party. the passage to which i allude occurs in his remarks upon the exclusion bill; and as it contains, in a condensed form, the spirit of what he urged on the same point in , i cannot do better than lay his own words before the reader. after expressing his opinion that, at the period of which he writes, the measure of exclusion from the monarchy altogether would have been preferable to any limitation of its powers, he proceeds to say:--"the whigs, who consider the powers of the crown as a trust for the people, a doctrine which the tories themselves, when pushed in argument, will sometimes admit, naturally think it their duty rather to change the manager of the trust than impair the subject of it; while others, who consider them as the right or property of the king, will as naturally act as they would do in the case of any other property, and consent to the loss or annihilation of any part of it, for the purpose of preserving the remainder to him, whom they style the rightful owner." further on he adds:--"the royal prerogative ought, according to the whigs, to be reduced to such powers as are in their exercise beneficial to the people; and of the benefit of these they will not rashly suffer the people to be deprived, whether the executive power be in the hands of an hereditary or of an elective king, of a regent, or of any other denomination of magistrate; while, on the other hand, they who consider prerogative with reference only to royalty will, with equal readiness, consent either to the extension or the suspension of its exercise, as the occasional interests of the prince may seem to require." taking this as a correct exposition of the doctrines of the two parties, of which mr. fox and mr. pitt may be considered to have been the representatives in the regency question of , it will strike some minds that, however the whig may flatter himself that the principle by which he is guided in such exigencies is favorable to liberty, and however the tory may, with equal sincerity, believe his suspension of the prerogative on these occasions to be advantageous to the crown, yet that in both of the principles, so defined, there is an evident tendency to produce effects, wholly different from those which the parties professing them contemplate. on the one side, to sanction from authority the notion, that there are some powers of the crown which may be safely dispensed with,--to accustom the people to an abridged exercise of the prerogative, with the risk of suggesting to their minds that its full efficacy needs not be resumed,--to set an example, in short, of reducing the kingly power, which, by its success, may invite and authorize still further encroachments,--all these are dangers to which the alleged doctrine of toryism, whenever brought into practice, exposes its idol; and more particularly in enlightened and speculative times, when the minds of men are in quest of the right and the useful, and when a superfluity of power is one of those abuses, which they are least likely to overlook or tolerate. in such seasons, the experiment of the tory might lead to all that he most deprecates, and the branches of the prerogative, once cut away, might, like the lopped boughs of the fir-tree, never grow again. on the other hand, the whig, who asserts that the royal prerogative ought to be reduced to such powers as are beneficial to the people, and yet stipulates, as an invariable principle, for the transfer of that prerogative full and unimpaired, whenever it passes into other hands, appears, even more perhaps than the tory, to throw an obstacle in the way of his own object. circumstances, it is not denied, may arise when the increase of the powers of the crown, in other ways, may render it advisable to control some of its established prerogatives. but, where are we to find a fit moment for such a reform,--or what opening will be left for it by this fastidious whig principle, which, in , could see no middle step between a change of the succession and an undiminished maintenance of the prerogative, and which, in , almost upon the heels of a declaration that "the power of the crown had increased and ought to be diminished," protested against even an experimental reduction of it! according to mr. fox, it is a distinctive characteristic of the tory, to attach more importance to the person of the king than to his office. but, assuredly, the tory is not singular in this want of political abstraction; and, in england, (from a defect, hume thinks, inherent in all limited monarchies,) the personal qualities and opinions of the sovereign have considerable influence upon the whole course of public affairs,--being felt alike in that courtly sphere around them where their attraction acts, and in that outer circle of opposition where their repulsion comes into play. to this influence, then, upon the government and the community, of which no abstraction can deprive the person of the monarch, the whig principle in question (which seems to consider entireness of prerogative as necessary to a king, as the entireness of his limbs was held to be among the athenians,) superadds the vast power, both actual and virtual, which would flow from the inviolability of the royal office, and forecloses, so far, the chance which the more pliant tory doctrine would leave open, of counteracting the effects of the king's indirect personal influence, by curtailing or weakening the grasp of some of his direct regal powers. ovid represents the deity of light (and on an occasion, too, which may be called a regency question) as crowned with movable rays, which might be put off when too strong or dazzling. but, according to this principle, the crown of prerogative must keep its rays fixed and immovable, and (as the poet expresses it) "_circa caput_ omne _micantes_." upon the whole, however high the authorities, by which this whig doctrine was enforced in , its manifest tendency, in most cases, to secure a perpetuity of superfluous powers to the crown, appears to render it unfit, at least as an invariable principle, for any party professing to have the liberty of the people for their object. the prince, in his admirable letter upon the subject of the regency to mr. pitt, was made to express the unwillingness which he felt "that in his person an experiment should be made to ascertain with how small a portion of kingly power the executive government of the country might be carried on;"--but imagination has not far to go in supposing a case, where the enormous patronage vested in the crown, and the consequent increase of a royal bias through the community, might give such an undue and unsafe preponderance to that branch of the legislature, as would render any safe opportunity, however acquired, of ascertaining with _how much less power_ the executive government could be carried on, most acceptable, in spite of any dogmas to the contrary, to all true lovers as well of the monarchy as of the people. having given thus much consideration to the opinions and principles, professed on both sides of this constitutional question, it is mortifying, after all, to be obliged to acknowledge, that, in the relative situation of the two parties at the moment, may be found perhaps the real, and but too natural, source of the decidedly opposite views which they took of the subject. mr. pitt, about to surrender the possession of power to his rival, had a very intelligible interest in reducing the value of the transfer, and (as a retreating army spike the guns they leave behind) rendering the engines of prerogative as useless as possible to his successor. mr. fox, too, had as natural a motive to oppose such a design; and, aware that the chief aim of these restrictive measures was to entail upon the whig ministry of the regent a weak government and strong opposition, would, of course, eagerly welcome the aid of any abstract principle, that might sanction him in resisting such a mutilation of the royal power;--well knowing that (as in the case of the peerage bill in the reign of george i.) the proceedings altogether were actuated more by ill-will to the successor in the trust, than by any sincere zeal for the purity of its exercise. had the situations of the two leaders been reversed, it is more than probable that their modes of thinking and acting would have been so likewise. mr. pitt, with the prospect of power before his eyes, would have been still more strenuous, perhaps, for the unbroken transmission of the prerogative--his natural leaning on the side of power being increased by his own approaching share in it. mr. fox, too, if stopped, like his rival, in a career of successful administration, and obliged to surrender up the reins of the state to tory guidance, might have found in his popular principles a still more plausible pretext, for the abridgment of power in such unconstitutional hands. he might even too, perhaps, (as his india bill warrants us in supposing) have been tempted into the same sort of alienation of the royal patronage, as that which mr. pitt now practised in the establishment of the queen, and have taken care to leave behind him a stronghold of whiggism, to facilitate the resumption of his position, whenever an opportunity might present itself. such is human nature, even in its noblest specimens, and so are the strongest spirits shaped by the mould in which chance and circumstances have placed them. mr. sheridan spoke frequently in the debates on this question, but his most important agency lay in the less public business connected with it. he was the confidential adviser of the prince throughout, directed every step he took, and was the author of most of his correspondence on the subject. there is little doubt, i think, that the celebrated and masterly letter to mr. pitt, which by some persons has been attributed to burke, and by others to sir gilbert elliot (afterwards lord minto), was principally the production of mr. sheridan. for the supposition that it was written by burke there are, besides the merits of the production, but very scanty grounds. so little was he at that period in those habits of confidence with the prince, which would entitle him to be selected for such a task in preference to sheridan, that but eight or ten days before the date of this letter (jan. .) he had declared in the house of commons, that "he knew as little of the inside of carlton house as he did of buckingham house." indeed, the violent state of this extraordinary man's temper, during the whole of the discussions and proceedings on the regency, would have rendered him, even had his intimacy with the prince been closer, an unfit person for the composition of a document, requiring so much caution, temper, and delicacy. the conjecture that sir gilbert elliot was the author of it is somewhat more plausible,--that gentleman being at this period high in the favor of the prince, and possessing talents sufficient to authorize the suspicion (which was in itself a reputation) that he had been the writer of a composition so admirable. but it seems hardly necessary to go farther, in quest of its author, than mr. sheridan, who, besides being known to have acted the part of the prince's adviser through the whole transaction, is proved by the rough copies found among his papers, to have written several other important documents connected with the regency. i may also add that an eminent statesman of the present day, who was at that period, though very young, a distinguished friend of mr. sheridan, and who has shown by the ability of his own state papers that he has not forgot the lessons of that school from which this able production emanated, remembers having heard some passages of the letter discussed in bruton-street, as if it were then in the progress of composition, and has always, i believe, been under the impression that it was principally the work of mr. sheridan. [footnote: to this authority may be added also that of the bishop of winchester, who says,--"mr. sheridan was supposed to have been materially concerned in drawing up this admirable composition."] i had written thus far on the subject of this letter--and shall leave what i have written as a memorial of the fallacy of such conjectures--when, having still some doubts of my correctness in attributing the honor of the composition to sheridan, i resolved to ask the opinion of my friend, sir james mackintosh, a person above all others qualified, by relationship of talent, to recognize and hold parley with the mighty spirit of burke, in whatever shape the "royal dane" may appear. the strong impression on his mind--amounting almost to certainty--was that no other hand but that of burke could have written the greater part of the letter; [footnote: it is amusing to observe how tastes differ;--the following is the opinion entertained of this letter by a gentleman, who, i understand, and can easily believe, is an old established reviewer. after mentioning that it was attributed to the pen of burke, he adds,--"the story, however, does not seem entitled to much credit, for the internal character of the paper is too vapid and heavy for the genius of burke, whose ardent mind would assuredly have diffused vigor into the composition, and the correctness of whose judgment would as certainly have preserved it from the charge of inelegance and grammatical deficiency."--dr. watkins, _life of sheridan_. such, in nine cases out of ten, are the periodical guides of public taste.] and by a more diligent inquiry, in which his kindness assisted me, it has been ascertained that his opinion was, as it could not fail to be, correct. the following extract from a letter written by lord minto at the time, referring obviously to the surmise that he was, himself, the author of the paper, confirms beyond a doubt the fact, that it was written almost solely by burke:-- "_january st, ._ "there was not a word of the prince's letter to pitt mine. it was originally burke's, altered a little, but not improved, by sheridan and other critics. the answer made by the prince yesterday to the address of the two houses was entirely mine, and done in a great hurry half an hour before it was to be delivered." while it is with regret i give up the claim of mr. sheridan to this fine specimen of english composition, it but adds to my intense admiration of burke--not on account of the beauty of the writing, for his fame required no such accession--but from that triumph of mind over temper which it exhibits--that forgetfulness of _self_, the true, transmigrating power of genius, which enabled him thus to pass his spirit into the station of royalty, and to assume all the calm dignity, both of style and feeling, that became it. it was to be expected that the conduct of lord thurlow at this period should draw down upon him all the bitterness of those who were in the secret of his ambidextrous policy, and who knew both his disposition to desert, and the nature of the motives that prevented him. to sheridan, in particular, such a result of a negotiation, in which he had been the principal mover and mediator, could not be otherwise than deeply mortifying. of all the various talents with which he was gifted, his dexterity in political intrigue and management was that of which he appears to have been most vain; and this vanity it was that, at a later period of his life, sometimes led him to branch off from the main body of his party, upon secret and solitary enterprises of ingenuity, which--as may be expected from all such independent movements of a partisan--generally ended in thwarting his friends and embarrassing himself. in the debate on that clause of the bill, which restricted the regent from granting places or pensions in reversion, mr. sheridan is represented as having attacked lord thurlow in terms of the most unqualified severity,--speaking of "the natural ferocity and sturdiness of his temper," and of "his brutal bluffness." but to such abuse, unseasoned by wit, mr. sheridan was not at all likely to have condescended, being well aware that, "as in smooth oil the razor best is set," so satire is whetted to its most perfect keenness by courtesy. his clumsy reporters have, in this, as in almost all other instances, misrepresented him. with equal personality, but more playfulness, mr. burke, in exposing that wretched fiction, by which the great seal was converted into the third branch of the legislature, and the assent of the king forged to a bill, in which his incapacity to give either assent or dissent was declared, thus expressed himself:--"but what is to be done when the crown is in a _deliquium_? it was intended, he had heard, to set up a man with black brows and a large wig, a kind of scare-crow to the two houses, who was to give a fictitious assent in the royal name--and this to be binding on the people at large!" the following remarkable passage, too, in a subsequent speech, is almost too well known to be cited:--"the other house," he said, "were not yet perhaps recovered from that extraordinary burst of the pathetic which had been exhibited the other evening; they had not yet dried their eyes, or been restored to their former placidity, and were unqualified to attend, to new business. the tears shed in that house on the occasion to which he alluded, were not the tears of patriots for dying laws, but of lords for their expiring places. the iron tears, which flowed down pluto's cheek, rather resembled the dismal bubbling of the styx, than the gentle murmuring streams of aganippe." while lord thurlow was thus treated by the party whom he had so nearly joined, he was but coldly welcomed back by the minister whom he had so nearly deserted. his reconciliation, too, with the latter was by no means either sincere or durable,--the renewal of friendship between politicians, on such occasions, being generally like that which the diable boiteux describes, as having taken place between himself and a brother sprite,--"we were reconciled, embraced, and have hated each other heartily ever since." in the regency, indeed, and the transactions connected with it, may be found the source of most of those misunderstandings and enmities, which broke out soon after among the eminent men of that day, and were attended with consequences so important to themselves and the country. by the difference just mentioned, between mr. pitt and lord thurlow, the ministerial arrangements of were facilitated, and the learned lord, after all his sturdy pliancy, consigned to a life of ineffectual discontent ever after. the disagreement between mr. burke and mr. fox, if not actually originating now--and its foundation had been, perhaps, laid from the beginning, in the total dissimilarity of their dispositions and sentiments--was, at least, considerably ripened and accelerated by the events of this period, and by the discontent that each of them, like partners in unsuccessful play, was known to feel at the mistakes which the other had committed in the game. mr. fox had, unquestionably, every reason to lament as well as blame the violence and virulence by which his associate had disgraced the contest. the effect, indeed, produced upon the public by the irreverent sallies of burke, and by the too evident triumph, both of hate and hope, with which he regarded the calamitous situation of the king, contributed not a little to render still lower the already low temperature of popularity at which his party stood throughout the country. it seemed as if a long course of ineffectual struggle in politics, of frustrated ambition and unrewarded talents, had at length exasperated his mind to a degree beyond endurance; and the extravagances into which he was hurried in his speeches on this question, appear to have been but the first workings of that impatience of a losing cause-- that resentment of failure, and disgust at his partners in it--which soon afterwards found such a signal opportunity of exploding. that mr. burke, upon far less grounds, was equally discontented with his co-operators in this emergency, may be collected from the following passage of a letter addressed by him in the summer of this year to lord charlemont, and given by hardy in his memoirs of that nobleman:-- "perpetual failure, even though nothing in that failure can be fixed on the improper choice of the object or the injudicious choice of means, will detract every day more and more from a man's credit, until he ends without success and without reputation. in fact, a constant pursuit even of the best objects, without adequate instruments, detracts something from the opinion of a man's judgment. this, i think, may be in part the cause of the inactivity of others of our friends who are in the vigor of life and in possession of a great degree of lead and authority. i do not blame them, though i lament that state of the public mind, in which the people can consider the exclusion of such talents and such virtues from their service, as a point gained to them. the only point in which i can find any thing to blame in these friends, is their not taking the effectual means, which they certainly had in their power, of making an honorable retreat from their prospect of power into the possession of reputation, by an effectual defence of themselves. there was an opportunity which was not made use of for that purpose, and which could scarcely have failed of turning the tables on their adversaries." another instance of the embittering influence of these transactions may be traced in their effects upon mr. burke and mr. sheridan--between whom there had arisen a degree of emulation, amounting to jealousy, which, though hitherto chiefly confined to one of the parties, received on this occasion such an addition of fuel, as spread it equally through the minds of both, and conduced, in no small degree, to the explosion that followed. both irishmen, and both adventurers in a region so much elevated above their original station, it was but natural that some such feeling should kindle between them; and that, as burke was already mid-way in his career, when sheridan was but entering the field, the stirrings, whether of emulation or envy, should first be felt by the latter. it is, indeed, said that in the ceremonial of hastings's trial, the privileges enjoyed by burke, as a privy-councillor, were regarded with evident uneasiness by his brother manager, who could not as yet boast the distinction of right honorable before his name. as soon, however, as the rapid run of sheridan's success had enabled him to overtake his veteran rival, this feeling of jealousy took possession in full force of the latter,--and the close relations of intimacy and confidence, to which sheridan was now admitted both by mr. fox and the prince, are supposed to have been not the least of those causes of irritation and disgust, by which burke was at length driven to break with the party altogether, and to show his gigantic strength at parting, by carrying away some of the strongest pillars of whiggism in his grasp. lastly, to this painful list of the feuds, whose origin is to be found in the times and transactions of which we are speaking, may be added that slight, but too visible cloud of misunderstanding, which arose between mr. fox and mr. sheridan, and which, though it never darkened into any thing serious, continued to pervade their intercourse with each other to the last--exhibiting itself, on the part of mr. fox, in a degree of distrustful reserve not natural to him, and, on the side of sheridan, in some of those counter-workings of influence, which, as i have already said, he was sometimes induced by his love of the diplomacy of politics to practise. among the appointments named in contemplation of a regency, the place of treasurer of the navy was allotted to mr. sheridan. he would never, however, admit the idea of certainty in any of the arrangements so sanguinely calculated upon, but continually impressed upon his impatient friends the possibility, if not probability, of the king's recovery. he had even refused to look at the plan of the apartments, which he himself was to occupy in somerset house; and had but just agreed that it should be sent to him for examination, on the very day when the king was declared convalescent by dr. warren. "he entered his own house (to use the words of the relater of the anecdote) at dinner-time with the news. there were present,--besides mrs. sheridan and his sister,--tickell, who, on the change of administration, was to have been immediately brought into parliament,--joseph richardson, who was to have had tickell's place of commissioner of the stamp-office,--mr. reid, and some others. not one of the company but had cherished expectations from the approaching change--not one of them, however, had lost so much as mr. sheridan. with his wonted equanimity he announced the sudden turn affairs had taken, and looking round him cheerfully, as he filled a large glass, said,--'let us all join in drinking his majesty's speedy recovery.'" the measures which the irish parliament adopted on this occasion, would have been productive of anomalies, both theoretical and practical, had the continued illness of the king allowed the projected regency to take place. as it was, the most material consequence that ensued was the dismissal from their official situations of mr. ponsonby and other powerful individuals, by which the whig party received such an accession of strength, as enabled them to work out for their country the few blessings of liberty that still remain to her. among the victims to their votes on this question was mr. charles sheridan, who, on the recovery of the king, was dismissed from his office of secretary of war, but received compensation by a pension of _l_. a year, with the reversion of _l_. a year to his wife. the ready and ardent burst of devotion with which ireland, at this moment, like the pythagoreans at their morning worship, turned to welcome with her harp the rising sun, was long remembered by the object of her homage with pride and gratitude,--and, let us trust, is not even yet entirely forgotten. [footnote: this vain hope was expressed before the late decision on the catholic question had proved to the irish that, where their rights are concerned, neither public nor private pledges are regarded.] it has already been mentioned that to mr. sheridan, at this period, was entrusted the task of drawing up several of the state papers of the heir-apparent. from the rough copies of these papers that have fallen into my hands, i shall content myself with selecting two letters--the first of which was addressed by the prince to the queen, immediately after the communication to her majesty of the resolution of the two houses placing the royal household under her control. "before your majesty gives an answer to the application for your royal permission to place under your majesty's separate authority the direction and appointment of the king's household, and thereby to separate from the difficult and arduous situation which i am unfortunately called upon to fill, the accustomed and necessary support which has ever belonged to it, permit me, with every sentiment of duty and affection towards your majesty, to entreat your attentive perusal of the papers which i have the honor to enclose. they contain a sketch of the plan now proposed to be carried into execution as communicated to me by mr. pitt, and the sentiments which i found myself bound in duty to declare in reply to that communication. i take the liberty of lodging these papers in your majesty's hands, confiding that, whenever it shall please providence to remove the malady with which the king my father is now unhappily afflicted, your majesty will, in justice to me and to those of the royal family whose affectionate concurrence and support i have received, take the earliest opportunity of submitting them to his royal perusal, in order that no interval of time may elapse before he is in possession of the true motives and principles upon which i have acted. i here solemnly repeat to your majesty, that among those principles there is not one which influences my mind so much as the firm persuasion i have, that my conduct in endeavoring to maintain unimpaired and undivided the just rights, prerogatives, and dignity of the crown, in the person of the king's representative, is the only line of conduct which would entitle me to his majesty's approbation, or enable me to stand with confidence in his royal presence on the happy day of his recovery;--and, on the contrary, that those who, under color of respect and attachment to his royal person, have contrived this project for enfeebling and degrading the executive authority of the realm, will be considered by him as having risked the happiness of his people and the security of the throne itself, by establishing a fatal precedent which may hereafter be urged against his own authority, on as plausible pretences, or revived against the just rights of his family. in speaking my opinions of the motive of the projectors of this scheme, i trust i need not assure your majesty that the respect, duty, and affection i owe to your majesty have never suffered me for a single moment to consider you as countenancing, in the slightest degree, their plan or their purposes. i have the firmest reliance on your majesty's early declaration to me, on the subject of public affairs, at the commencement of our common calamity; and, whatever may be the efforts of evil or interested advisers, i have the same confidence that you will never permit or endure that the influence of your respected name shall be profaned to the purpose of distressing the government and insulting the person of your son. how far those, who are evidently pursuing both these objects, may be encouraged by your majesty's acceptance of one part of the powers purposed to be lodged in your hands, i will not presume to say. [footnote: in speaking of the extraordinary _imperium in imperio_, with which the command of so much power and patronage would have invested the queen, the annual register (robinson's) remarks justly, "it was not the least extraordinary circumstance in these transactions, that the queen could be prevailed upon to lend her name to a project which would eventually have placed her in avowed rivalship with her son, and, at a moment when her attention might seem to be absorbed by domestic calamity, have established her at the head of a political party."] the proposition has assumed the shape of a resolution of parliament, and therefore i am silent. "your majesty will do me the honor to weigh the opinions i formed and declared before parliament had entertained the plan, and, with those before you, your own good judgment will decide. i have only to add that whatever that decision may be, nothing will ever alter the interest of true affection and inviolable duty," &c. &c. the second letter that i shall give, from the rough copy of mr. sheridan, was addressed by the prince to the king after his recovery, announcing the intention of his royal highness to submit to his majesty a memorial, in vindication of his own conduct and that of his royal brother the duke of york throughout the whole of the proceedings consequent upon his majesty's indisposition. "sir, "thinking it probable that i should have been honored with your commands to attend your majesty on wednesday last, i have unfortunately lost the opportunity of paying my duty to your majesty before your departure from weymouth. the account? i have received of your majesty's health have given me the greatest satisfaction, and should it be your majesty's intention to return to weymouth, i trust, sir, there will be no impropriety in my _then_ entreating your majesty's gracious attention to a point of the greatest moment to the peace of my own mind, and one in which i am convinced your majesty's feelings are equally interested. your majesty's letter to my brother the duke of clarence, in may last, was the first direct intimation i had ever received that my conduct, and that of my brother the duke of york, during your majesty's late lamented illness, had brought on us the heavy misfortune of your majesty's displeasure. i should be wholly unworthy the return of your majesty's confidence and good opinion, which will ever be the first objects of my life, if i could have read the passage i refer to in that letter without the deepest sorrow and regret for the effect produced on your majesty's mind; though at the same time i felt the firmest persuasion that your majesty's generosity and goodness would never permit that effect to _remain_, without affording us an opportunity of knowing what had been urged against us, of replying to our accusers, and of justifying ourselves, if the means of justification were in our power. "great however as my impatience and anxiety were on this subject, i felt it a superior consideration not to intrude any unpleasing or agitating discussions upon your majesty's attention, during an excursion devoted to the ease and amusement necessary for the re-establishment of your majesty's health. i determined to sacrifice my own feelings, and to wait with resignation till the fortunate opportunity should arrive, when your majesty's own paternal goodness would, i was convinced, lead you even to _invite_ your sons to that fair hearing, which your justice would not deny to the meanest individual of your subjects. in this painful interval i have employed myself in drawing up a full statement and account of my conduct during the period alluded to, and of the motives and circumstances which influenced me. when these shall be humbly submitted to your majesty's consideration, i may be possibly found to have erred in judgment, and to have acted on mistaken principles, but i have the most assured conviction that i shall not be found to have been deficient in that duteous affection to your majesty which nothing shall ever diminish. anxious for every thing that may contribute to the comfort and satisfaction of your majesty's mind, i cannot omit this opportunity of lamenting those appearances of a less gracious disposition in the queen, towards my brothers and myself, than we were accustomed to experience; and to assure your majesty that if by your affectionate interposition these most unpleasant sensations should be happily removed, it would be an event not less grateful to our minds than satisfactory to your majesty's own benign disposition. i will not longer. &c. &c. "g. p." the statement here announced by his royal highness (a copy of which i have seen, occupying, with its appendix, near a hundred folio pages), is supposed to have been drawn up by lord minto. to descend from documents of such high import to one of a much humbler nature, the following curious memorial was presented this year to mr. sheridan, by a literary gentleman whom the whig party thought it worth while to employ in their service, and who, as far as industry went, appears to have been not unworthy of his hire, simonides is said to be the first author that ever wrote for pay, but simonides little dreamt of the perfection to which his craft would one day be brought. _memorial for dr. w. t.,_ [footnote: this industrious scotchman (of whose name i have only given the initials) was not without some share of humor. on hearing that a certain modern philosopher had carried his belief in the perfectibility of all living things so far, as to say that he did not despair of seeing the day when tigers themselves might be educated, dr. t. exclaimed, "i should like dearly to see him in a cage with _two_ of his pupils!"] _fitzroy-street, fitzroy-chapel._ "in may, , dr. parr, in the name of his political friends, engaged dr. t. to embrace those opportunities, which his connections with booksellers and periodical publications might afford him, of supporting the principles of their party. mr. sheridan in august, , gave two notes, _l_. each, to dr. t. for the first year's service, which notes were paid at different periods--the first by mr. sheridan at brookes's, in january, , the second by mr. windham in may, . mr. sheridan, in different conversations, encouraged dr. t. to go on with the expectation of a like sum yearly, or _l_. half yearly. dr. t. with this encouragement engaged in different publications for the purpose of this agreement. he is charged for the most part with the political and historical articles in the analytic review, and he also occasionally writes the political appendix to the english review, of which particularly he wrote that for april last, and that for june last. he also every week writes an abridgment of politics for the whitehall evening post, and a political review every month for a sunday paper entitled the review and sunday advertiser. in a romance, entitled 'mammoth, or human nature displayed, &c.,' dr. t. has shown how mindful he is on all occasions of his engagements to those who confide in him. he has also occasionally moved other engines, which it would be tedious and might appear too trifling to mention. dr. t. is not ignorant that uncommon charges have happened in the course of this last year, that is, the year preceding may, . instead of _l_., therefore, he will be satisfied with _l_ for that year, provided that this abatement shall not form a precedent against his claim of _l_. annually, if his further services shall be deemed acceptable. there is one point on which dr. t. particularly reserved himself, namely, to make no attack on mr. hastings, and this will be attested by dr. parr, mr. sheridan, and, if the doctor rightly recollects, by mr. windham. "_fitzroy-street, st july, ."_ taking into account all the various circumstances that concurred to glorify this period of sheridan's life, we may allow ourselves, i think, to pause upon it as the apex of the pyramid, and, whether we consider his fame, his talents, or his happiness, may safely say, "here is their highest point." the new splendor which his recent triumphs in eloquence had added to a reputation already so illustrious,--the power which he seemed to have acquired over the future destinies of the country, by his acknowledged influence in the councils of the heir apparent, and the tribute paid to him, by the avowal both of friends and foes, that he had used this influence in the late trying crisis of the regency, with a judgment and delicacy that proved him worthy of it,--all these advantages, both brilliant and solid, which subsequent circumstances but too much tended to weaken, at this moment surrounded him in their newest lustre and promise. he was just now, too, in the first enjoyment of a feeling, of which habit must have afterwards dulled the zest, namely, the proud consciousness of having surmounted the disadvantages of birth and station, and placed himself on a level with the highest and noblest of the land. this footing in the society of the great he could only have attained by parliamentary eminence;--as a mere writer, with all his genius, he never would have been thus admitted _ad eundem_ among them. talents, in literature or science, unassisted by the advantages of birth, may lead to association with the great, but rarely to equality;--it is a passport through the well-guarded frontier, but no title to naturalization within. by him, who has not been born among them, this can only be achieved by politics. in that arena, which they look upon as their own, the legislature of the land, let a man of genius, like sheridan, but assert his supremacy,--at once all these barriers of reserve and pride give way, and he takes, by storm, a station at their side, which a shakspeare or a newton would but have enjoyed by courtesy. in fixing upon this period of sheridan's life, as the most shining aera of his talents as well as his fame, it is not meant to be denied that in his subsequent warfare with the minister, during the stormy time of the french revolution, he exhibited a prowess of oratory no less suited to that actual service, than his eloquence on the trial of hastings had been to such lighter tilts and tournaments of peace. but the effect of his talents was far less striking;--the current of feeling through england was against him;--and, however greatly this added to the merit of his efforts, it deprived him of that echo from the public heart, by which the voice of the orator is endued with a sort of multiplied life, and, as it were, survives itself. in the panic, too, that followed the french revolution, all eloquence, but that from the lips of power, was disregarded, and the voice of him at the helm was the only one listened to in the storm. of his happiness, at the period of which we are speaking, in the midst of so much success and hope, there can be but little doubt. though pecuniary embarrassment, as appears from his papers, had already begun to weave its fatal net around him, there was as yet little more than sufficed to give exercise to his ingenuity, and the resources of the drury-lane treasury were still in full nightly flow. the charms, by which his home was embellished, were such as few other homes could boast; and, if any thing made it less happy than it ought to be, the cause was to be found in the very brilliancy of his life and attractions, and in those triumphs out of the sphere of domestic love, to which his vanity, perhaps, oftener than his feelings, impelled him. among his own immediate associates, the gaiety of his spirits amounted almost to boyishness. he delighted in all sorts of dramatic tricks and disguises; and the lively parties, with which his country-house was always filled, were kept in momentary expectation of some new device for their mystification or amusement. [footnote: to give some idea of the youthful tone of this society, i shall mention one out of many anecdotes related to me by persons who themselves been ornaments of it. the ladies having one evening received the gentlemen in masquerade dresses, which with their obstinate silence, made it impossible to distinguish one from the other, the gentlemen, in their turn invited the ladies next evening, to a similar trial of conjecture on themselves; and notice being given that they were ready dressed, mrs. sheridan and her companions were admitted into the dining room, where they found a party of turks, sitting silent and masked around the table. after a long course of the usual guesses, examinations, &c, &c., and each lady having taken the arm of the person she was most sure of, they heard a burst of laughter through the half open door, and looking there, saw the gentlemen themselves in their proper person--the masks upon whom they had been lavishing their sagacity being no other than the maid servants of the house, who had been thus dressed up to deceive them.] it was not unusual to dispatch a man and horse seven or eight miles for a piece of crape or a mask, or some other such trifle for these frolics. his friends tickell and richardson, both men of wit and humor, and the former possessing the same degree of light animal spirits as himself, were the constant companions of all his social hours, and kept up with him that ready rebound of pleasantry, without which the play of wit languishes. there is a letter, written one night by richardson at tunbridge [footnote: in the year , when mrs. sheridan was trying the waters of tunbridge for her health. in a letter to sheridan's sister from this place, dated september , she says: "i drink the waters once a day, and ride and drive all the forenoon, which makes me ravenous when i return. i feel i am in very good health, and i am in high beauty, two circumstances which ought and do put me in high good humor."] (after waiting five long hours for sheridan,) so full of that mixture of melancholy and humor, which chequered the mind of this interesting man, that, as illustrative of the character of one of sheridan's most intimate friends, it may be inserted here:-- "dear sheridan, "_half-past nine, mount ephraim._ "after you had been gone an hour or two i got moped damnably. perhaps there is a sympathy between the corporeal and the mind's eye. in the temple i can't see far before me, and seldom extend my speculations on things to come into any fatiguing sketch of reflection.--from your window, however, there was a tedious scope of black atmosphere, that i think won my mind into a sort of fellow-travellership, pacing me again through the cheerless waste of the past, and presenting hardly one little rarified cloud to give a dim ornament to the future;--not a star to be seen;--no permanent light to gild my horizon;--only the fading helps to transient gaiety in the lamps of tunbridge;--no law coffee-house at hand, or any other house of relief;--no antagonist to bicker one into a control of one's cares by a successful opposition, [footnote: richardson was remarkable for his love of disputation; and tickell, when hard pressed by him in argument, used often, as a last resource, to assume the voice and manner of mr. fox, which he had the power of mimicking so exactly, that richardson confessed he sometimes stood awed and silenced by the resemblance. this disputatious humor of richardson was once turned to account by sheridan in a very characteristic manner. having had a hackney-coach in employ for five or six hours, and not being provided with the means of paying it, he happened to espy richardson in the street, and proposed to take him in the coach some part of his way. the offer being accepted, sheridan lost no time in starting a subject of conversation, on which he knew his companion was sure to become argumentative and animated. having, by well-managed contradiction, brought him to the proper pitch of excitement, he affected to grow impatient and angry, himself, and saying that "he could not think of staying in the same coach with a person that would use such language," pulled the check-string, and desired the coachman to let him out. richardson, wholly occupied with the argument, and regarding the retreat of his opponent as an acknowledgment of defeat, still pressed his point, and even hollowed "more last words" through the coach-window after sheridan, who, walking quietly home, left the poor disputant responsible for the heavy fare of the coach.] nor a softer enemy to soothe one into an oblivion of them. "it is damned foolish for ladies to leave their scissors about;--the frail thread of a worthless life is soon snipped. i wish to god my fate had been true to its first destination, and made a parson of me;--i should have made an excellent country joll. i think i can, with confidence, pronounce the character that would have been given of me:--he was an indolent good-humored man, civil at all times, and hospitable at others, namely, when he was able to be so, which, truth to say, happened but seldom. his sermons were better than his preaching, and his doctrine better than his life; though often grave, and sometimes melancholy, he nevertheless loved a joke,--the more so when overtaken in his cups, which, a regard to the faith of history compels us to subjoin, fell out not unfrequently. he had more thought than was generally imputed to him, though it must be owned no man alive ever exercised thought to so little purpose. rebecca, his wife, the daughter of an opulent farmer in the neighborhood of his small living, brought him eighteen children; and he now rests with those who, being rather _not_ absolutely vicious than actively good, confide in the bounty of providence to strike a mild average between the contending negations of their life, and to allow them in their future state, what he ordained them in this earthly pilgrimage, a snug neutrality and a useless repose.--i had written thus far, absolutely determined, under an irresistible influence of the megrims, to set off for london on foot, when, accidentally searching for a cardialgic, to my great delight, i discovered three fugitive sixpences, headed by a vagrant shilling, immerged in the heap in my waistcoat pocket. this discovery gave an immediate elasticity to my mind; and i have therefore devised a scheme, worthier the improved state of my spirits, namely, to swindle your servants out of a horse, under the pretence of a ride upon the heath, and to jog on contentedly homewards. so, under the protection of providence, and the mercy of footpads, i trust we shall meet again to-morrow; at all events, there is nothing huffish in this; for, whether sad or merry, i am always, "most affectionately yours, "j. richardson. "p.s. your return only confirmed me in my resolution of going; for i had worked myself, in five hours solitude, into such a state of nervous melancholy, that i found i could not help the meanness of crying, even if any one looked me in the face. i am anxious to avoid a regular conviction of so disreputable an infirmity;--besides, the night has become quite pleasant." between tickell and sheridan there was a never-ending "skirmish of wit," both verbal and practical; and the latter kind, in particular, was carried on between them with all the waggery, and, not unfrequently, the malice of school-boys. [footnote: on one occasion, sheridan having covered the floor of a dark passage, leading from the drawing room, with all the plates and dishes of the house, ranged closely together, provoked his unconscious play-fellow to pursue him into the midst of them. having left a path for his own escape, he passed through easily, but tickell, falling at full length into the ambuscade, was very much cut in several places. the next day, lord john townshend, on paying a visit to the bed-side of tickell, found him covered over with patches, and indignantly vowing vengeance against sheridan for this unjustifiable trick. in the midst of his anger, however, he could not help exclaiming, with the true feeling of an amateur of this sort of mischief, "but how amazingly well done it was!"] tickell, much less occupied by business than his friend, had always some political _jeux d'esprit_ on the anvil; and sometimes these trifles were produced by them jointly. the following string of pasquinades so well known in political circles, and written, as the reader will perceive, at different dates, though principally by sheridan, owes some of its stanzas to tickel, and a few others, i believe, to lord john townshend. i have strung together, without regard to chronology, the best of these detached lampoons. time having removed their venom, and with it, in a great degree, their wit, they are now, like dried snakes, mere harmless objects of curiosity. "johnny w--lks, johnny w--lks, [ ] thou greatest of bilks, how chang'd are the notes you now sing! your fam'd forty-five is prerogative, and your blasphemy, 'god save the king,' johnny w-lks, and your blasphemy, 'god save the king.'" "jack ch--ch--ll, jack ch--ch--ll, the town sure you search ill, your mob has disgraced all your brags; when next you draw out your hospital rout, do, prithee, afford them clean rags, jack ch--ch--ll, do, prithee, afford them clean rags." "captain k--th, captain k--th, keep your tongue 'twixt your teeth, lest bed-chamber tricks you betray; and, if teeth you want more, why, my bold commodore,-- you may borrow of lord g--ll--y, captain k--th, you may borrow of lord g--ll--y." [ ]"joe m--wb--y, joe m--wb--y, your throat sure must raw be, in striving to make yourself heard; but it pleased not the pigs. nor the westminster whigs, that your knighthood should utter one word, joe m--wb--y, that your knighthood should utter one word." "m--ntm--res, m--ntm--res, whom nobody for is, and _for_ whom we none of us care; from dublin you came-- it had much been the same if your lordship had staid where you were, m--ntm--res, if your lordship had staid where you were." "lord o--gl--y, lord o--gl--y, you spoke mighty strongly-- who you _are_, tho', all people admire! but i'll let you depart, for i believe in my heart, you had rather they did not inquire, lord o--gl--y, you had rather they did not inquire." "gl--nb--e, gl--nb--e, what's good for the scurvy? for ne'er be your old trade forgot-- in your arms rather quarter a pestle and mortar, and your crest be a spruce gallipot, gl--nb--e, and your crest be a spruce gallipot." "gl--nb--e, gl--nb--e, the world's topsy-turvy, of this truth you're the fittest attester; for, who can deny that the low become high, when the king makes a lord of silvester, gl--nb--e, when the king makes a lord of silvester." "mr. p--l, mr. p--l, in return for your zeal, i am told they have dubb'd you sir bob; having got wealth enough by coarse manchester stuff, for honors you'll now drive a job, mr. p--l, for honors you'll now drive a job." "oh poor b--ks, oh poor b--ks, still condemned to the ranks, nor e'en yet from a private promoted; pitt ne'er will relent, though he knows you repent, having once or twice honestly voted, poor b--ks, having once or twice honestly voted." "dull h--l--y, dull h--l--y, your audience feel ye a speaker of very great weight, and they wish you were dumb, when, with ponderous hum, you lengthened the drowsy debate, dull h--l--y, you lengthened the drowsy debate." [footnote : in sheridan's copy of the stanzas written by him in this metre at the time of the union, (beginning "zooks, harry! zooks, harry!") he entitled them, "an admirable new ballad, which goes excellently well to the tune of "mrs. arne, mrs. arne, it gives me concern," &c.] [footnote : this stanza and, i rather think, the next were by lord john townshend.] there are about as many more of these stanzas, written at different intervals, according as new victims, with good names for rhyming, presented themselves,--the metre being a most tempting medium for such lampoons. there is, indeed, appended to one of sheridan's copies of them, a long list (like a tablet of proscription), containing about fifteen other names marked out for the same fate; and it will be seen by the following specimen that some of them had a very narrow escape: "will c--rt--s...." "v--ns--t--t, v--ns--t--t,--for little thou fit art." "will d--nd--s, will d--nd--s,--were you only an ass." "l--ghb--h,--thorough." "sam h--rsl--y, sam h--rsl--y, ... coarsely." "p--ttym--n, p--ttym--n,--speak truth, if you can." but it was not alone for such lively purposes [footnote: as i have been mentioning some instances of sheridan's love of practical jests, i shall take this opportunity of adding one more anecdote, which i believe is pretty well known, but which i have had the advantage of hearing from the person on whom the joke was inflicted. the rev. mr. o'b---- (afterwards bishop of ----) having arrived to dinner at sheridan's country-house, near osterley, where, as usual, a gay party was collected, (consisting of general burgoyne, mrs. crewe, tickell, &c.) it was proposed that on the next day (sunday) the rev. gentleman should, on gaining the consent of the resident clergyman, give a specimen of his talents as a preacher in the village church. on his objecting that he was not provided with a sermon, his host offered to write one for him, if he would consent to preach it; and, the offer being accepted, sheridan left the company early, and did not return for the remainder of the evening. the following morning mr. o'b---- found the manuscript by his bed-side, tied together neatly (as he described it) with riband;--the subject of the discourse being the "abuse of riches." having read it over and corrected some theological errors, (such as "it is easier for a camel, _as moses says_," &c.) he delivered the sermon in his most impressive style, much to the delight of his own party, and to the satisfaction, as he unsuspectingly flattered himself, of all the rest of the congregation, among whom was mr. sheridan's wealthy neighbor mr. c---- some months afterwards, however, mr. o'b---- perceived that the family of mr. c----, with whom he had previously been intimate, treated him with marked coldness; and, on his expressing some innocent wonder at the circumstance, was at length informed, to his dismay, by general burgoyne, that the sermon which sheridan had written for him was, throughout, a personal attack upon mr. c----, who had at that time rendered himself very unpopular in the neighborhood by some harsh conduct to the poor, and to whom every one in the church, except the unconscious preacher, applied almost every sentence of the sermon.] that sheridan and his two friends drew upon their joint wits; they had also but too much to do with subjects of a far different nature)--with debts, bonds, judgments, writs, and all those other humiliating matters of fact, that bring law and wit so often and so unnaturally in contact. that they were serviceable to each other, in their defensive alliance against duns, is fully proved by various documents; and i have now before me articles of agreement, dated in , by which tickell, to avert an execution from the theatre, bound himself as security for sheridan in the sum of _l_.,--the arrears of an annuity charged upon sheridan's moiety of the property. so soon did those pecuniary difficulties, by which his peace and character were afterwards undermined, begin their operations. yet even into transactions of this nature, little as they are akin to mirth, the following letter of richardson will show that these brother wits contrived to infuse a portion of gaiety: "dear sheridan, "_essex-street, saturday evening._ "i had a terrible long batch with bobby this morning, after i wrote to you by francois. i have so far succeeded that he has agreed to continue the day of trial as _we_ call it (that is, in vulgar, unlearned language, to put it off) from tuesday till saturday. he demands, as preliminaries, that wright's bill of _l_. should be given up to him, as a prosecution had been commenced against him, which, however, he has stopped by an injunction from the court of chancery. this, if the transaction be as he states it, appears reasonable enough. he insists, besides, that the bill should undergo the most rigid examination; that you should transmit your objections, to which he will send answers, (for the point of a personal interview has not been yet carried,) and that the whole amount at last, whatever it may be, should have your clear and satisfied approbation:--nothing to be done without this--almighty honor! "all these things being done, i desired to know what was to be the result at last:--'surely, after having carried so many points, you will think it only common decency to relax a little as to the time of payment? you will not cut your pound of flesh the nearest from the merchant's heart?' to this bobides, 'i must have _l_. put in a shape of practicable use, and payment immediately;--for the rest i will accept security.' this was strongly objected to by me, as jewish in the extreme; but, however, so we parted. you will think with me, i hope, that something has been done, however, by this meeting. it has opened an access to a favorable adjustment, and time and trust may do much. i am to see him again on monday morning at two, so pray don't go out of town to-morrow without my seeing you. the matter is of immense consequence. i never knew till to-day that the process had been going on so long. i am convinced he could force you to trial next tuesday with all your infirmities green upon your head; so pray attend to it. "_r. b. sheridan, esq._ "yours ever, "_lower grosvenor-street_. "j. richardson." this letter was written in the year , when sheridan's involvements had begun to thicken around him more rapidly. there is another letter, about the same date, still more characteristic,--where, after beginning in evident anger and distress of mind, the writer breaks off, as if irresistibly, into the old strain of playfulness and good humor. "dear sheridan, "_wednesday, essex-street, july _. "i write to you with more unpleasant feelings than i ever did in my life. westly, after having told me for the last three weeks that nothing was wanting for my accommodation but your consent, having told me so, so late as friday, sends me word on monday that he would not do it at all. in four days i have a _cognovit_ expires for _l_. i can't suffer my family to be turned into the streets if i can help it. i have no resource but my abilities, such as they are. i certainly mean to write something in the course of the summer. as a matter of business and bargain i _can_ have no higher hope about it than that you won't suffer by it. however, if you won't take it somebody else _must_, for no human consideration will induce me to leave any means untried, that may rescue my family from this impending misfortune. "for the sake of convenience you will probably give me the importance of construing this into an incendiary letter. i wish to god you may, and order your treasurer to deposit the acceptance accordingly; for nothing can be so irksome to me as that the nations of the earth should think there had been any interruption of friendship between you and me; and though that would not be the case in fact, both being influenced, i must believe, by a necessity which we could not control, yet the said nations would so interpret it. if i don't hear from you before friday, i shall conclude that you leave me in this dire scrape to shift for myself. "_r. b. sheridan, esq._ "yours ever, "_isleworth, middlesex._ "j. richardson." _diben, friday, d._ chapter iv. french revolution.--mr. burke.--his breach with mr. sheridan.--dissolution of parliament.--mr. burke and mr. fox.--russian armament.--royal scotch boroughs. we have now to consider the conduct and opinions of mr. sheridan, during the measures and discussions consequent upon the french revolution,--an event, by which the minds of men throughout all europe were thrown into a state of such feverish excitement, that a more than usual degree of tolerance should be exercised towards the errors and extremes into which all parties were hurried during the paroxysm. there was, indeed, no rank or class of society, whose interests and passions were not deeply involved in the question. the powerful and the rich, both of state and church, must naturally have regarded with dismay the advance of a political heresy, whose path they saw strewed over with the broken talismans of rank and authority. many, too, with a disinterested reverence for ancient institutions, trembled to see them thus approached by rash hands, whose talents for ruin were sufficiently certain, but whose powers of reconstruction were yet to be tried. on the other hand, the easy triumph of a people over their oppressors was an example which could not fail to excite the hopes of the many as actively as the fears of the few. the great problem of the natural rights of mankind seemed about to be solved in a manner most flattering to the majority; the zeal of the lover of liberty was kindled into enthusiasm, by a conquest achieved for his cause upon an arena so vast; and many, who before would have smiled at the doctrine of human perfectibility, now imagined they saw, in what the revolution performed and promised, almost enough to sanction the indulgence of that splendid dream. it was natural, too, that the greater portion of that unemployed, and, as it were, homeless talent, which, in all great communities, is ever abroad on the wing, uncertain where to settle, should now swarm round the light of the new principles,--while all those obscure but ambitious spirits, who felt their aspirings clogged by the medium in which they were sunk, would as naturally welcome such a state of political effervescence, as might enable them, like enfranchised air, to mount at once to the surface. amidst all these various interests, imaginations, and fears, which were brought to life by the dawn of the french revolution, it is not surprising that errors and excesses, both of conduct and opinion, should be among the first products of so new and sudden a movement of the whole civilized world;--that the friends of popular rights, presuming upon the triumph that had been gained, should, in the ardor of pursuit, push on the vanguard of their principles, somewhat farther than was consistent with prudence and safety; or that, on the other side, authority and its supporters, alarmed by the inroads of the revolutionary spirit, should but the more stubbornly intrench themselves in established abuses, and make the dangers they apprehended from liberty a pretext for assailing its very existence. it was not long before these effects of the french revolution began to show themselves very strikingly in the politics of england; and, singularly enough, the two extreme opinions, to which, as i have just remarked, that disturbing event gave rise, instead of first appearing, as might naturally be expected, the one on the side of government, and the other on that of the opposition, both broke out simultaneously in the very heart of the latter body. on such an imagination as that of burke, the scenes now passing in france were every way calculated to make a most vivid impression. so susceptible was he, indeed, of such impulses, and so much under the control of the imaginative department of his intellect, that, whatever might have been the accidental mood of his mind, at the moment when this astounding event first burst upon him, it would most probably have acted as a sort of mental catalepsy, and fixed his reason in the very attitude in which it found it. he had, however, been prepared for the part which he now took by much more deep and grounded causes. it was rather from circumstances than from choice, or any natural affinity, that mr. burke had ever attached himself to the popular party in politics. there was, in truth, nothing democratic about him but his origin;--his tastes were all on the side of the splendid and the arbitrary. the chief recommendation of the cause of india to his fancy and his feeling was that it involved the fate of ancient dynasties, and invoked retribution for the downfall of thrones and princedoms, to which his imagination, always most affected by objects at a distance, lent a state and splendor that did not, in sober reality, belong to them. though doomed to make whiggism his habitual haunt, he took his perch at all times on its loftiest branches, as far as possible away from popular contact; and, upon most occasions, adopted a sort of baronial view of liberty, as rather a question lying between the throne and the aristocracy, than one in which the people had a right to any efficient voice or agency. accordingly, the question of parliamentary reform, from the first moment of its agitation, found in him a most decided opponent. this inherent repugnance to popular principles became naturally heightened into impatience and disgust, by the long and fruitless warfare which he had waged under their banner, and the uniform ill success with which they had blasted all his struggles for wealth and power. nor was he in any better temper with his associates in the cause,--having found that the ascendancy, which he had formerly exercised over them, and which, in some degree, consoled him for the want of official dominion, was of late considerably diminished, if not wholly transferred to others. sheridan, as has been stated, was the most prominent object of his jealousy;--and it is curious to remark how much, even in feelings of this description, the aristocratical bias of his mind betrayed itself. for, though mr. fox, too, had overtaken and even passed him in the race, assuming that station in politics which he himself had previously held, yet so paramount did those claims of birth and connection, by which the new leader came recommended, appear in his eyes, that he submitted to be superseded by him, not only without a murmur, but cheerfully. to sheridan, however, who had no such hereditary passport to pre-eminence, he could not give way without heart burning and humiliation; and to be supplanted thus by a rival son of earth seemed no less a shock to his superstitious notions about rank, than it was painful to his feelings of self-love and pride. such, as far as can be ascertained by a distant observer of those times, was the temper in which the first events of the revolution found the mind of this remarkable man;--and, powerfully as they would, at any time, have appealed to his imagination and prejudices, the state of irritability to which he had been wrought by the causes already enumerated peculiarly predisposed him, at this moment, to give way to such impressions without restraint, and even to welcome as a timely relief to his pride, the mighty vent thus afforded to the "_splendida bilis_" with which it was charged. there was indeed much to animate and give a zest to the new part which he now took. he saw those principles, to which he owed a deep grudge, for the time and the talents he had wasted in their service, now embodied in a shape so wild and alarming, as seemed to justify him, on grounds of public safety, in turning against them the hole powers of his mind, and thus enabled him, opportunely, to dignify desertion, by throwing the semblance of patriotism and conscientiousness round the reality of defection and revenge. he saw the party, too, who, from the moment they had ceased to be ruled by him, were associated only in his mind with recollections of unpopularity and defeat, about to adopt a line of politics which his long knowledge of the people of england, and his sagacious foresight of the consequences of the french revolution, fully convinced him would lead to the same barren and mortifying results. on the contrary, the cause to which he proffered his alliance, would, he was equally sure, by arraying on its side all the rank, riches, and religion of europe, enable him at length to feel that sense of power and triumph, for which his domineering spirit had so long panted in vain. in this latter hope, indeed, of a speedy triumph over jacobinism, his temperament, as was often the case, outran his sagacity; for, while he foresaw clearly that the dissolution of social order in france would at last harden into a military tyranny, he appeared not to be aware that the violent measures which he recommended against her would not only hasten this formidable result, but bind the whole mass of the people into union and resistance during the process. lastly--to these attractions, of various kinds, with which the cause of thrones was now encircled in the eyes of burke, must be added one, which, however it may still further disenchant our views of his conversion, cannot wholly be omitted among the inducements to his change,--and this was the strong claim upon the gratitude of government, which his seasonable and powerful advocacy in a crisis so difficult established for him, and which the narrow and embarrassed state of his circumstances rendered an object by no means of secondary importance in his views. unfortunately,--from a delicate wish, perhaps, that the reward should not appear to come in too close coincidence with the service,--the pension bestowed upon him arrived too late to admit of his deriving much more from it than the obloquy by which it was accompanied. the consequence, as is well known, of the new course taken by burke was that the speeches and writings which he henceforward produced, and in which, as usual, his judgment was run away with by his temper, form a complete contrast, in spirit and tendency, to all that he had put on record in the former part of his life. he has, indeed, left behind him two separate and distinct armories of opinion, from which both whig and tory may furnish themselves with weapons, the most splendid, if not the most highly tempered, that ever genius and eloquence have condescended to bequeath to party. he has thus too, by his own personal versatility, attained, in the world of politics, what shakspeare, by the versatility of his characters, achieved for the world in general,--namely, such a universality of application to all opinions and purposes, that it would be difficult for any statesman of any party to find himself placed in any situation, for which he could not select some golden sentence from burke, either to strengthen his position by reasoning or illustrate and adorn it by, fancy. while, therefore, our respect for the man himself is diminished by this want of moral identity observable through his life and writings, we are but the more disposed to admire that unrivalled genius, which could thus throw itself out in so many various directions with equal splendor and vigor. in general, political deserters lose their value and power in the very act, and bring little more than their treason to the new cause which they espouse:-- _"fortis in armis caesaris labienus erat; nunc transfuga vilis."_ but burke was mighty in either camp; and it would have taken _two_ great men to effect what he, by this division of himself achieved. his mind, indeed, lies parted asunder in his works, like some vast continent severed by a convulsion of nature,--each portion peopled by its own giant race of opinions, differing altogether in features and language, and committed in eternal hostility with each other. it was during the discussions on the army estimates, at the commencement of the session of , that the difference between mr. burke and his party in their views of the french revolution first manifested itself. mr. fox having taken occasion to praise the late conduct of the french guards in refusing to obey the dictates of the court, and having declared that he exulted, "both from feelings and from principles," in the political change that had been brought about in that country, mr. burke, in answering him, entered fully, and, it must be owned, most luminously into the question,--expressing his apprehension, lest the example of france, which had, at a former period, threatened england with the contagion of despotism, should now be the means of introducing among her people the no less fatal taint of democracy and atheism. after some eloquent tributes of admiration to mr. fox, rendered more animated, perhaps, by the consciousness that they were the last offerings thrown into the open grave of their friendship, he proceeded to deprecate the effects which the language of his right honorable friend might have, in appearing to countenance the disposition observable among "some wicked persons" to "recommend an imitation of the french spirit of reform," and then added a declaration, equally remarkable for the insidious charge which it implied against his own party, and the notice of his approaching desertion which it conveyed to the other,--that "so strongly opposed was he to any the least tendency towards the _means_ of introducing a democracy like that of the french, as well as to the _end_ itself, that, much as it would afflict him, if such a thing should be attempted, and that any friend of his could concur in such measures (he was far, very far, from believing they could), he would abandon his best friends, and join with his worst enemies to oppose either the means or the end." it is pretty evident, from these words, that burke had already made up his mind as to the course he should pursue, and but delayed his declaration of a total breach, in order to prepare the minds of the public for such an event, and, by waiting to take advantage of some moment of provocation, make the intemperance of others responsible for his own deliberate schism. the reply of mr. fox was not such as could afford this opportunity;--it was, on the contrary, full of candor and moderation, and repelled the implied charge of being a favorer of the new doctrines of france in the most decided, but, at the same time, most conciliatory terms. "did such a declaration," he asked, "warrant the idea that he was a friend to democracy? he declared himself equally the enemy of all absolute forms of government, whether an absolute monarchy, an absolute aristocracy, or an absolute democracy. he was adverse to all extremes, and a friend only to a mixed government like our own, in which, if the aristocracy, or indeed either of the three branches of the constitution, were destroyed, the good effect of the whole, and the happiness derived under it would, in his mind, be at an end." in returning, too, the praises bestowed upon him by his friend, he made the following memorable and noble acknowledgment of all that he himself had gained by their intercourse:-- "such (he said) was his sense of the judgment of his right honorable friend, such his knowledge of his principles, such the value which he set upon them, and such the estimation in which he held his friendship, that if he were to put all the political information which he had learned from books, all which he had gained from science, and all which any knowledge of the world and its affairs had taught him, into one scale, and the improvement which he had derived from his right honorable friend's instruction and conversation were placed in the other, he should be at a loss to decide to which to give the preference." this, from a person so rich in acquirements as mr. fox, was the very highest praise,--nor, except in what related to the judgment and principles of his friend, was it at all exaggerated. the conversation of burke must have been like the procession of a roman triumph, exhibiting power and riches at every step--occasionally, perhaps, mingling the low fescennine jest with the lofty music of its march, but glittering all over with the spoils of the whole ransacked world. mr. burke, in reply, after reiterating his praises of mr. fox, and the full confidence which he felt in his moderation and sagacity, professed himself perfectly satisfied with the explanations that had been given. the conversation would thus have passed off without any explosion, had not sheridan, who was well aware that against him, in particular, the charge of a tendency to the adoption of french principles was directed, risen immediately after, and by a speech warmly in favor of the revolution and of the national assembly, at once lighted the train in the mind of burke, and brought the question, as far as regarded themselves, to an immediate issue. "he differed," he said, "decidedly, from his right honorable friend in almost every word that be had uttered respecting the french revolution. he conceived it to be as just a revolution as ours, proceeding upon as sound a principle and as just a provocation. he vehemently defended the general views and conduct of the national assembly. he could not even understand what was meant by the charges against them of having overturned the laws, the justice, and the revenues of their country. what were their laws? the arbitrary mandates of capricious despotism. what their justice? the partial adjudications of venal magistrates. what their revenues? national bankruptcy. this he thought the fundamental error of his right honorable friend's argument, that he accused the national assembly of creating the evils, which they had found existing in full deformity at the first hour of their meeting. the public creditor had been defrauded; the manufacturer was without employ; trade was languishing; famine clung upon the poor; despair on all. in this situation, the wisdom and feelings of the nation were appealed to by the government; and was it to be wondered at by englishmen, that a people, so circumstanced, should search for the cause and source of all their calamities, or that they should find them in the arbitrary constitution of their government, and in the prodigal and corrupt administration of their revenues? for such an evil when proved, what remedy could be resorted to, but a radical amendment of the frame and fabric of the constitution itself? this change was not the object and wish of the national assembly only; it was the claim and cry of all france, united as one man for one purpose." all this is just and unanswerable--as indeed was the greater part of the sentiments which he uttered. but he seems to have failed, even more signally than mr. fox, in endeavoring to invalidate the masterly view which burke had just taken of the revolution of , as compared, in its means and object, with that of france. there was, in truth, but little similarity between them,--the task of the former being to preserve liberty, that of the latter to destroy tyranny; the one being a regulated movement of the aristocracy against the throne for the nation, the other a tumultuous rising of the whole nation against both for itself. the reply of mr. burke was conclusive and peremptory,--such, in short, as might be expected from a person who came prepared to take the first plausible opportunity of a rupture. he declared that "henceforth, his honorable friend and he were separated in politics,"--complained that his arguments had been cruelly misrepresented, and that "the honorable gentleman had thought proper to charge him with being the advocate of despotism." having endeavored to defend himself from such an imputation, he concluded by saying,-- "was that a fair and candid mode of treating his arguments? or was it what he ought to have expected _in the moment of departed friendship?_ on the contrary, was it not evident that the honorable gentleman had made a sacrifice of his friendship, for the sake of catching some momentary popularity? if the fact were such, even greatly as he should continue to admire the honorable gentleman's talents, he must tell him that his argument was chiefly an argument _ad invidiam_, and all the applause for which he could hope from clubs was scarcely worth the sacrifice which he had chosen to make for so insignificant an acquisition." i have given the circumstances of this debate somewhat in detail, not only on account of its own interest and of the share which mr. sheridan took in it, but from its being the first scene of that great political schism, which in the following year assumed a still more serious aspect, and by which the policy of mr. pitt at length acquired a predominance, not speedily to be forgotten in the annals of this country. mr. sheridan was much blamed for the unseasonable stimulant which, it was thought, his speech on this occasion had administered to the temper of burke; nor can it be doubted that he had thereby, in some degree, accelerated the public burst of that feeling which had so long been treasured up against himself but, whether hastened or delayed, such a breach was ultimately inevitable; the divergence of the parties once begun, it was in vain to think of restoring their parallelism. that some of their friends, however, had more sanguine hopes appears from an effort which was made, within two days after the occurrence of this remarkable scene, to effect a reconciliation between burke and sheridan. the interview that took place on that occasion is thus described by mr. dennis o'brien, one of the persons chiefly instrumental in the arrangements for it:-- "it appeared to the author of this pamphlet [footnote: entitled "utrum horum."] that the difference between these two great men would be a great evil to the country and to their own party. full of this persuasion he brought them both together the second night after the original contest in the house of commons; and carried them to burlington house to mr. fox and the duke of portland, according to a previous arrangement. this interview, which can never be forgotten by those who were present, lasted from ten o'clock at night until three in the morning, and afforded a very remarkable display of the extraordinary talents of the parties." it will easily be believed that to the success of this conciliatory effort the temper on one side would be a greater obstacle than even the hate on both. mr. sheridan, as if anxious to repel from himself the suspicion of having contributed to its failure, took an opportunity, during his speech upon the tobacco act, in the month of april following, to express himself in the most friendly terms of mr. burke, as "one, for whose talents and personal virtue he had the highest esteem, veneration, and regard, and with whom he might be allowed to differ in opinion upon the subject of france, persuaded, as he was, that they never could differ in principle." of this and some other compliments of a similar nature, mr. burke did not deign to take the slightest notice--partly, from an implacable feeling towards him who offered them, and partly, perhaps, from a suspicion that they were intended rather for the ears of the public than his own, and that, while this tendency to conciliation appeared on the surface, the under-current of feeling and influence set all the other way. among the measures which engaged the attention of mr. sheridan during this session, the principal was a motion of his own for the repeal of the excise duties on tobacco, which appears to have called forth a more than usual portion of his oratory,--his speeches on the subject occupying nearly forty pages. it is upon topics of this unpromising kind, and from the very effort, perhaps, to dignity and enliven them, that the peculiar characteristics of an orator are sometimes most racily brought out. to the cider tax we are indebted for one of the grandest bursts of the constitutional spirit and eloquence of lord chatham; and, in these orations of sheridan upon tobacco, we find examples of the two extreme varieties of his dramatic talent--both of the broad, natural humor of his farce, and the pointed, artificial wit of his comedy. for instance, in representing, as one of the abuses that might arise from the discretionary power of remitting fines to manufacturers, the danger that those only should feel the indulgence, who were found to be supporters of the existing administration, [footnote: a case of this kind formed the subject of a spirited speech of mr. windham, in . see his speeches, vol. i. p. .] he says:-- "were a man whose stock had increased or diminished beyond the standard table in the act, to attend the commissioners and assure them that the weather alone had caused the increase or decrease of the article, and that no fraud whatever had been used on the occasion, the commissioners might say to him, 'sir, you need not give yourself so much trouble to prove your innocence;--we see honesty in your orange cape.' but should a person of quite a different side in politics attend for the same purpose, the commissioners might say, 'sir, you are not to be believed; we see fraud in your blue and buff, and it is impossible that you should not be a smuggler." again, in stating the case between the manufacturers and the minister, the former of whom objected to the bill altogether, while the latter determined to preserve its principle and only alter its form, he says:-- "the manufacturers ask the right honorable gentleman, if he will consent to give up the principle? the right honorable gentleman answers, 'no; the principle must not be abandoned, but do you inform me how i shall alter the bill.' this the manufacturers refused; and they wisely refused it in his opinion; for, what was it but the minister's saying, 'i have a yoke to put about your necks,--do you help me in fitting it on--only assist me with your knowledge of the subject, and i'll fit you with the prettiest pair of fetters that ever were seen in the world.'" as a specimen of his quaint and far-sought witticisms, the following passage in the same speech may vie with trip's "post-obit on the blue and silver, &c."--having described the effects of the weather in increasing or decreasing the weight of the stock, beyond the exact standard established in the act, he adds, "the commissioners, before they could, in justice, levy such fines, ought to ascertain that the weather is always in that precise state of heat or cold which the act supposed it would be. they ought to make christmas give security for frost, take a bond for hot weather from august, and oblige damps and fogs to take out permits." it was in one of these speeches on the tobacco act, that he adverted with considerable warmth to a rumor, which, he complained, had been maliciously circulated, of a misunderstanding between himself and the duke of portland, in consequence (as the report expresses it) of "a certain opposition affirmed to have been made by this noble duke, to some views or expectations which he (mr. sheridan) was said to have entertained." after declaring that "there was not in these rumors one grain of truth," he added that-- "he would not venture to state to the committee the opinion that the noble duke was pleased to entertain of him, lest he should be accused of vanity in publishing what he might deem highly flattering. all that he would assert on this occasion was, that if he had it in his power to make the man whose good opinion he should most highly prize think flatteringly of him, he would have that man think of him precisely as the noble duke did, and then his wish on that subject would be most amply gratified." as it is certain, that the feelings which burke entertained towards sheridan were now in some degree shared by all those who afterwards seceded from the party, this boast of the high opinion of the duke of portland must be taken with what, in heraldry, is called _abatement_--that is, a certain degree of diminution of the emblazonry. among the papers of mr. sheridan, i find a letter addressed to him this year by one of his most distinguished friends, relative to the motions that had lately been brought forward for the relief of the dissenters. the writer, whose alarm for the interest of the church had somewhat disturbed his sense of liberality and justice, endeavors to impress upon mr. sheridan, and through him upon mr. fox, how undeserving the dissenters were, as a political body, of the recent exertions on their behalf, and how ungratefully they had more than once requited the services which the whigs had rendered them. for this latter charge there was but too much foundation in truth, however ungenerous might be the deduction which the writer would draw from it. it is, no doubt, natural that large bodies of men, impatiently suffering under the ban of disqualification, should avail themselves, without much regard to persons or party, of every aid they can muster for their cause, and should (to use the words of an old earl of pembroke) "lean on both sides of the stairs to get up." but, it is equally natural that the occasional desertion and ingratitude, of which, in pursuit of this selfish policy, they are but too likely to be guilty towards their best friends, should, if not wholly indispose the latter to their service, at least considerably moderate their zeal in a cause, where all parties alike seem to be considered but as instruments, and where neither personal predilections nor principle are regarded in the choice of means. to the great credit, however, of the whig party, it must be said, that, though often set aside and even disowned by their clients, they have rarely suffered their high duty, as advocates, to be relaxed or interrupted by such momentary suspensions of confidence. in this respect, the cause of ireland has more than once been a trial of their constancy. even lord north was able, by his reluctant concessions, to supersede them for a time in the favor of my too believing countrymen,--whose despair of finding justice at any hands has often led them thus to carry their confidence to market, and to place it in the hands of the first plausible bidder. the many vicissitudes of popularity which their own illustrious whig, grattan, had to encounter, would have wearied out the ardor of any less magnanimous champion. but high minds are as little affected by such unworthy returns for services, as the sun is by those fogs which the earth throws up between herself and his light. with respect to the dissenters, they had deserted mr. fox in his great struggle with the crown in , and laid their interest and hopes at the feet of the new idol of the day. notwithstanding this, we find him, in the year , warmly maintaining, and in opposition to his rival, the cause of the very persons who had contributed to make that rival triumphant,--and showing just so much remembrance of their late defection as served to render this sacrifice of personal to public feelings more signal. "he was determined," he said, "to let them know that, though they could upon some occasions lose sight of their principles of liberty, he would not upon any occasion lose sight of his principles of toleration." in the present session, too, notwithstanding that the great organ of the dissenters, dr. price, had lately in a sermon, published with a view to the test, made a pointed attack on the morals of mr. fox and his friends, this generous advocate of religious liberty not the less promptly acceded to the request of the body, that he would himself bring the motion for their relief before the house. on the th of june the parliament was dissolved,--and mr. sheridan again succeeded in being elected for stafford. the following letters, however, addressed to him by mrs. sheridan during the election, will prove that they were not without some apprehensions of a different result. the letters are still more interesting, as showing how warmly alive to each other's feelings the hearts of both husband wife could remain, after the long lapse of near twenty years, and after trials more fatal to love than even time itself. "this letter will find you, my dear dick. i hope, encircled with honors at stafford. i take it for granted you entered it triumphantly on sunday, --but i am very impatient to hear the particulars, and of the utter discomfiture of s---- and his followers. i received your note from birmingham this morning, and am happy to find that you and my dear cub were well, so far on your journey. you could not be happier than i should be in the proposed alteration for tom, but we will talk more of this when we meet. i sent you cartwright yesterday, and to-day i pack you off perry with the soldiers. i was obliged to give them four guineas for their expenses. i send you, likewise, by perry, the note from mrs. crewe, to enable you to speak of your qualification if you should be called upon. so i think i have executed all your commissions, sir; and if you want any of these doubtful votes which i mentioned to you, you will have time enough to send for them, for i would not let them go till i hear they can be of any use. "and, now for my journal, sir, which i suppose you expect. saturday, i was at home all day busy for you,--kept mrs. reid to dinner,--went to the opera,--afterwards to mrs. st. john's, where i lost my money sadly, sir,--eat strawberries and cream for supper,--sat between lord salisbury and mr. meynell, (hope you approve of that, sir,)--overheard lord salisbury advise miss boyle by no means to subscribe to taylor's opera, as o'reilly's would certainly have the patent,--confess i did not come home till past two. sunday, called on lady julia,--father and mr. reid to dinner,--in the evening at lady hampden's,--lost my money again, sir, and came home by one o'clock. 'tis now near one o'clock,--my father is established in my boudoir, and, when i have finished this, i am going with him to hear abbé vogler play on the stafford organ. i have promised to dine with mrs. crewe, who is to have a female party only,--no objection to that, i suppose. sir? whatever the party do, i shall do of course,--i suppose it will end in mrs. hobart's. mr. james told me on saturday, and i find it is the report of the day, that bond hopkins has gone to stafford. i am sorry to tell you there is an opposition at york, mr. montague opposes sir willam milner. mr. beckford has given up at dover, and lord ** is so provoked at it, that he has given up too, though they say they were both sure. st. ives is gone for want of a candidate. mr. barham is beat at stockbridge. charles lenox has offered for surry, and they say lord egremont might drive him to the deuce, if he would set any body up against him. you know, i suppose, mr. crewe has likewise an opponent. i am sorry to tell you all this bad news, and, to complete it, mr. adam is sick in bed, and there is nobody to do any good left in town. "i am more than ever convinced we must look to other resources for wealth and independence, and consider politics merely as an amusement,--and in that light 'tis best to be in opposition, which i am afraid we are likely to be for some years again. "i see the rumors of war still continue--stocks continue to fall--is that good or bad for the ministers? the little boys are come home to me to-day. i could not help showing in my answer to mr. t's letter, that i was hurt at his conduct,--so i have got another flummery letter, and the boys, who (as he is pretty sure) will be the best peace-makers. god bless you, my dear dick. i am very well, i assure you; pray don't neglect to write to your ever affectionate "e. s." "my dearest dick, "_wednesday_. "i am full of anxiety and fright about you.--i cannot but think your letters are very alarming. deuce take the corporation! is it impossible to make them resign their pretensions, and make peace with the burgesses? i have sent thomas after mr. cocker. i suppose you have sent for the out-votes; but, if they are not good, what a terrible expense will that be!--however, they are ready. i saw mr. cocker yesterday,--he collected them together last night, and gave them a treat,--so they are in high good humor. i inclose you a letter which b. left here last night,--i could not resist opening it. every thing seems going wrong. i think. i thought he was not to do anything in your absence.--it strikes me the bad business he mentions was entirely owing to his own stupidity, and want of a little patience,--is it of much consequence? i don't hear that the report is true of basilico's arrival;--a messenger came to the spanish embassy, which gave rise to this tale, i believe. "if you were not so worried, i should scold you for the conclusion of your letter of to-day. might not i as well accuse you of coldness, for not filling your letter with professions, at a time when your head must be full of business? i think of nothing all day long, but how to do good, some how or other, for you. i have given you a regular journal of my time, and all to please you,--so don't, dear dick, lay so much stress on words. i should use them oftener, perhaps, but i feel as if it would look like deceit. you know me well enough, to be sure that i can never do what i'm bid, sir,--but, pray, don't think i meant to send you a cold letter, for indeed nothing was ever farther from my heart. "you will see mr. horne tooke's advertisement to-day in the papers;--what do you think of that to complete the thing? bishop dixon has just called from the hustings:--he says the late recorder. adair, proposed charles with a good speech, and great applause,--captain berkeley, lord hood, with a bad speech, not much applauded; and then horne tooke came forward, and, in the most impudent speech that ever was heard, proposed himself,--abused both the candidates, and said he should have been ashamed to have sat and heard such ill-deserved praises given him. but he told the crowd that, since so many of these fine virtues and qualifications had never yet done them the least good, they might as well now choose a candidate without them. he said, however, that if they were sincere in their professions of standing alone, he was sure of coming in, for they must all give him their second votes. there was an amazing deal of laughing and noise in the course of his speech. charles fox attempted to answer him, and so did lord hood,--but they would hear neither, and they are now polling away. "do, my dearest love, if you have possibly time, write me a few more particulars, for your letters are very unsatisfactory, and i am full of anxiety. make richardson write,--what has he better to do? god bless thee, my dear, dear dick,--would it were over and all well! i am afraid, at any rate, it will be ruinous work. "ever your true and affectionate "e. s. "_near five_. i am just come from the hustings;--the state of the poll when i left it was, fox, ; hood, ; home tooke, ! but he still persists in his determination of polling a man an hour for the whole time--i saw mr. wilkes go up to vote for tooke and hood, amidst the hisses and groans of a multitude," "my poor dick, how you are worried! this is the day.--you will easily guess how anxious i shall be; but you seem pretty sanguine yourself, which is my only comfort, for richardson's letter is rather croaking. you have never said a word of little monkton:--has he any chance, or none? i ask questions without considering that, before you receive this, every thing will be decided--i hope triumphantly for you. what a sad set of venal rascals your favorites the blacks must be, to turn so suddenly from their professions and promises! i am half sorry you have any thing more to do with them, and more than ever regret you did not stand for westminster with charles, instead of lord john;--in that case you would have come in now, and we should not have been persecuted by this horne tooke. however, it is the dullest contested election that ever was seen--no canvassing, no houses open, no cockades. but i heard that a report prevails now, that horne tooke polling so few the two or three first days is an artful trick to put the others off their guard, and that he means to pour in his votes on the last days, when it will be too late for them to repair their neglect. but i don't think it possible, either, for such a fellow to beat charles in westminster. "i have just had a note from reid--he is at canterbury:--the state of the poll there, thursday night, was as follows:--gipps, ; lord * *, ; sir t. honeywood, ; mr. warton, . we have got two members for wendover, and two at ailsbury. mr. barham is beat at stockbridge. mr. tierney says he shall be beat, owing to bate dudley's manoeuvres, and the dissenters having all forsaken him,--a set of ungrateful wretches. e. fawkener has just sent me a state of the poll at northampton, as it stood yesterday, when they adjourned to dinner:--lord compton, ; bouverie, ; colonel manners, . they are in hopes mr. manners will give up, this is all my news, sir. "we had a very pleasant musical party last night at lord erskine's, where i supped. i am asked to dine to-day with lady palmerston, at sheen; but i can't go, unless mrs. crewe will carry me, as the coach is gone to have its new lining. i have sent to ask her, for 'tis a fine day, and i should like it very well. god thee bless, my dear dick. "yours ever, true and affectionate, "e.s. "duke of portland has just left me:--he is full of anxiety about you:-- this is the second time he has called to inquire." having secured his own election, mr. sheridan now hastened to lend his aid, where such a lively reinforcement was much wanted, on the hustings at westminster. the contest here was protracted to the d of july; and it required no little exercise both of wit and temper to encounter the cool personalities of tooke, who had not forgotten the severe remarks of sheridan upon his pamphlet the preceding year, and who, in addition to his strong powers of sarcasm, had all those advantages which, in such a contest, contempt for the courtesies and compromises of party warfare gives. among other sallies of his splenetic humor it is related, that mr. fox having, upon one occasion, retired from the hustings, and left to sheridan the task of addressing the multitude, tooke remarked, that such was always the practice of quack-doctors, who, whenever they quit the stage themselves, make it a rule to leave their merry-andrews behind. [footnote: tooke, it is said, upon coming one monday morning to the hustings, was thus addressed by a pietism of his opponent, not of a very reputable character--"well, mr. tooke, you will have all the blackguards with you to day"--"i am delighted to hear it, sir," (said tooke, bowing,) "and from such good authority."] the french revolution still continued, by its comet-like course, to dazzle, alarm, and disturb all europe. mr. burke had published his celebrated "reflections" in the month of november, ; and never did any work, with the exception, perhaps, of the eikon basilike, produce such a rapid, deep, and general sensation. the eikon was the book of a king, and this might, in another sense, be called the book of kings. not only in england, but throughout all europe,--in every part of which monarchy was now trembling for its existence,--this lofty appeal to loyalty was heard and welcomed. its effect upon the already tottering whig party was like that of "the voice," in the ruins of rome, "disparting towers." the whole fabric of the old rockingham confederacy shook to its base. even some, who afterwards recovered their equilibrium, at first yielded to the eloquence of this extraordinary book,--which, like the aera of chivalry, whose loss it deplores, mixes a grandeur with error, and throws a charm round political superstition, that will long render its pages a sort of region of royal romance, to which fancy will have recourse for illusions that have lost their last hold on reason. the undisguised freedom with which mr. fox and mr. sheridan expressed every where their opinions of this work and its principles had, of course, no small influence on the temper of the author, and, while it confirmed him in his hatred and jealousy of the one, prepared him for the breach which he meditated with the other. this breach was now, indeed, daily expected, as a natural sequel to the rupture with mr. sheridan in the last session; but, by various accidents and interpositions, the crisis was delayed till the th of may, when the recommitment of the quebec bill,--a question upon which both orators had already taken occasion to unfold their views of the french revolution,--furnished burke with an opportunity, of which he impetuously took advantage, to sever the tie between himself and mr. fox forever. this scene, so singular in a public assembly, where the natural affections are but seldom called out, and where, though bursts of temper like that of burke are common, such tears as those shed by mr. fox are rare phenomena,--has been so often described in various publications, that it would be superfluous to enter into the details of it here. the following are the solemn and stern words in which sentence of death was pronounced upon a friendship, that had now lasted for more than the fourth part of a century. "it certainly," said mr. burke, "was indiscretion at any period, but especially at his time of life, to provoke enemies, or to give his friends occasion to desert him; yet, if his firm and steady adherence to the british constitution placed him in such a dilemma, he would risk all, and, as public duty and public prudence taught him, with his last words exclaim, 'fly from the french constitution.'" [mr. fox here whispered, that "there was no loss of friendship."] mr. burke said, "yes, there _was_ a loss of friendship;--he knew the price of his conduct;--he had done his duty at the price of his friend; their friendship was at an end." in rising to reply to the speech of burke, mr. fox was so affected as to be for some moments unable to speak:--he wept, it is said, even to sobbing; and persons who were in the gallery at the time declare, that, while he spoke, there was hardly a dry eye around them. had it been possible for two natures so incapable of disguise--the one from simplicity and frankness, the other from ungovernable temper,--to have continued in relations of amity, notwithstanding their disagreement upon a question which was at that moment setting the world in arms, both themselves and the country would have been the better for such a compromise between them. their long habits of mutual deference would have mingled with and moderated the discussion of their present differences; --the tendency to one common centre to which their minds had been accustomed, would have prevented them from flying so very widely asunder; and both might have been thus saved from those extremes of principle, which mr. burke always, and mr. fox sometimes, had recourse to in defending their respective opinions, and which, by lighting, as it were, the torch at both ends, but hastened a conflagration in which liberty herself might have been the sufferer. but it was evident that such a compromise would have been wholly impossible. even granting that mr. burke did not welcome the schism as a relief, neither the temper of the men nor the spirit of the times, which converted opinions at once into passions, would have admitted of such a peaceable counterbalance of principles, nor suffered them long to slumber in that hollow truce, which tacitus has described,--"_manente in speciem amicitia_" mr. sheridan saw this from the first; and, in hazarding that vehement speech, by which he provoked the rupture between himself and burke, neither his judgment nor his temper were so much off their guard as they who blamed that speech seemed inclined to infer. but, perceiving that a separation was in the end inevitable, he thought it safer, perhaps, as well as manlier, to encounter the extremity at once, than by any temporizing delay, or too complaisant suppression of opinion, to involve both himself and mr. fox in the suspicion of either sharing or countenancing that spirit of defection, which, he saw, was fast spreading among the rest of their associates. it is indeed said, and with every appearance of truth, that mr. sheridan had felt offended by the censures which some of his political friends had pronounced upon the indiscretion (as it was called) of his speech in the last year, and that, having, in consequence, withdrawn from them the aid of his powerful talents during a great part of the present session, he but returned to his post under the express condition, that he should be allowed to take the earliest opportunity of repeating, fully and explicitly, the same avowal of his sentiments. the following letter from dr. parr to mrs. sheridan, written immediately after the scene between burke and sheridan in the preceding year, is curious:-- "dear madam, "i am most fixedly and most indignantly on the side of mr. sheridan and mr. fox against mr. burke. it is not merely french politics that produced this dispute;--they might have been settled privately. no, no,--there is jealousy lurking underneath;--jealousy of mr. sheridan's eloquence; --jealousy of his popularity;--jealousy of his influence with mr. fox;--jealousy, perhaps, of his connection with the prince. "mr. sheridan was, i think, not too warm; or, at least, i should have myself been warmer. why, burke accused mr. fox and mr. sheridan of acts leading to rebellion,--and he made mr. fox a dupe, and mr. sheridan a traitor! i think _this_,--and i am sure, yes, positively sure, that nothing else will allay the ferment of men's minds. mr. sheridan ought, publicly in parliament, to demand proof, or a retractation, of this horrible charge. pitt's words never did the party half the hurt;--and, just on the eve of an election, it is worse. as to private bickerings, or private concessions and reconciliations, they are all nothing. in public all must be again taken up; for, if drowned, the public will say, and pitt will insinuate, that the charge is well founded, and that they dare not provoke an inquiry. "i know burke is not addicted to giving up,--and so much the worse for him and his party. as to mr. fox's yielding, well had it been for all, all, all the party, if mr. fox had, now and then, stood out against mr. burke. the ferment and alarm are universal, and something must be done; for it is a conflagration in which they must perish, unless it be stopped. all the papers are with burke,--even the foxite papers, which i have seen. i know his violence, and temper, and obstinacy of opinion, and--but i will not speak out, for, though i think him the greatest man upon the earth, yet, in politics i think him,--what he has been found, to the sorrow of those who act with him. he is uncorrupt, i know; but his passions are quite headstrong; [footnote: it was well said, (i believe, by mr. fox,) that it was lucky both for burke and windham that they took the royal side on the subject of the french revolution, as they would have got hanged on the other.] and age, and disappointment, and the sight of other men rising into fame and consequence, sour him. pray tell me when they are reconciled,--though, as i said, it is nothing to the purpose without a public explanation. "i am, dear madam, "yours truly, "s. parr." another letter, communicated to me as having been written about this period to sheridan by a gentleman, then abroad, who was well acquainted with the whole party, contains allusions to the breach, which make its introduction here not irrelevant:-- "i wish very much to have some account of the state of things with you that i can rely on. i wish to know how all my old companions and fellow-laborers do; if the club yet exists; if you, and richardson, and lord john, and ellis, and lawrence, and fitzpatrick, &c., meet, and joke, and write, as of old. what is become of becket's, and the supper-parties,--the _noctes coenaeque_? poor burgoyne! i am sure you all mourned him as i did, particularly richardson:--pray remember me affectionately to richardson. it is a shame for you all, and i will say ungrateful in many of you, to have so totally forgotten me, and to leave me in ignorance of every thing public and private in which i am interested. the only creature who writes to me is the duke of portland; but in the great and weighty occupations that engross his mind, you can easily conceive that the little details of our society cannot enter into his grace's correspondence. i have indeed carried on a pretty regular correspondence with young burke. but that is now at an end. _he_ is so wrapt up in the importance of his present pursuits, that it is too great an honor for me to continue to correspond with him. his father i ever must venerate and ever love; yet i never could admire, even in him, what his son has inherited from him, a tenacity of opinion and a violence of _principle_, that makes him lose his friendships in his politics, and quarrel with every one who differs from him. bitterly have i lamented that greatest of these quarrels, and, indeed, the only important one; nor can i conceive it to have been less afflicting to my private feelings than fatal to the party. the worst of it to me was, that i was obliged to condemn the man i loved, and that all the warmth of my affection, and the zeal of my partiality, could not suggest a single excuse to vindicate him either to the world or to myself, from the crime (for such it was) of giving such a triumph to the common enemy. he failed, too, in what i most loved him for,--his heart. there it was that _mr. fox principally rose above him_; nor, amiable as he ever has been, did he ever appear half so amiable as on that trying occasion." the topic upon which sheridan most distinguished himself during this session was the meditated interference of england in the war between russia and the porte,--one of the few measures of mr. pitt on which the sense of the nation was opposed to him. so unpopular, indeed, was the armament, proposed to be raised for this object, and so rapidly did the majority of the minister diminish during the discussion of it, that there appeared for some time a probability that the whig party would be called into power,--an event which, happening at this critical juncture, might, by altering the policy of england, have changed the destinies of all europe. the circumstance to which at present this russian question owes its chief hold upon english memories is the charge, arising out of it, brought against mr. fox of having sent mr. adair as his representative to petersburg, for the purpose of frustrating the objects for which the king's ministers were then actually negotiating. this accusation, though more than once obliquely intimated during the discussions upon the russian armament in , first met the public eye, in any tangible form, among those celebrated articles of impeachment against mr. fox, which were drawn up by burke's practised hand [footnote: this was the third time that his talent for impeaching was exercised, as he acknowledged having drawn up, during the administration of lord north, seven distinct articles of impeachment against that nobleman, which, however, the advice of lord rockingham induced him to relinquish] in , and found their way surreptitiously into print in . the angry and vindictive tone of this paper was but little calculated to inspire confidence in its statements, and the charge again died away, unsupported and unrefuted, till the appearance of the memoirs of mr. pitt by the bishop of winchester; when, upon the authority of documents said to be found among the papers of mr. pitt, but not produced, the accusation was revived,--the right reverend biographer calling in aid of his own view of the transaction the charitable opinion of the turks, who, he complacently assures us, "expressed great surprise that mr. fox had not lost his head for such conduct." notwithstanding, however, this _concordat_ between the right reverend prelate and the turks, something more is still wanting to give validity to so serious an accusation. until the production of the alleged proofs (which mr. adair has confidently demanded) shall have put the public in possession of more recondite materials for judging, they must regard as satisfactory and conclusive the refutation of the whole charge, both as regards himself and his illustrious friend, which mr. adair has laid before the world; and for the truth of which not only his own high character, but the character of the ministries of both parties, who have since employed him in missions of the first trust and importance, seem to offer the strongest and most convincing pledges. the empress of russia, in testimony of her admiration of the eloquence of mr. fox on this occasion, sent an order to england, through her ambassador, for a bust of that statesman, which it was her intention, she said, to place between those of demosthenes and cicero. the following is a literal copy of her imperial majesty's note on the subject: [footnote: found among mr. sheridan's papers, with these words, in his own hand-writing, annexed:--"n. b. fox would have lost it, if i had not made him look for it, and taken a copy."]-- "ecrivés au cte. worenzof qu'il me fasse avoir en marbre blanc le buste resemblant de charle fox. je veut le mettre sur ma colonade entre eux de demosthene et ciceron. "il a delivré par son eloquence sa patrie et la russie d'une guerre a la quelle il n'y avoit ni justice ni raisons." another subject that engaged much of the attention of mr. sheridan this year was his own motion relative to the constitution of the royal scotch boroughs. he had been, singularly enough, selected, in the year , by the burgesses of scotland, in preference to so many others possessing more personal knowledge of that country, to present to the house the petition of the convention of delegates, for a reform of the internal government of the royal boroughs. how fully satisfied they were with his exertions in their cause may be judged by the following extract from the minutes of convention, dated th august, :-- "mr. mills of perth, after a suitable introductory speech, moved a vote of thanks to mr. sheridan, in the following words:-- "the delegates of the burgesses of scotland, associated for the purpose of reform, taking into their most serious consideration the important services rendered to their cause by the manly and prudent exertions of richard brinsley sheridan, esq., the genuine and fixed attachment to it which the whole tenor of his conduct has evinced, and the admirable moderation he has all along displayed, "resolved unanimously, that the most sincere thanks of this meeting be given to the said richard brinsley sheridan, esq., for his steady, honorable, and judicious conduct in bringing the question relative to the violated rights of the scottish boroughs to its present important and favorable crisis; and the burgesses with firm confidence hope that, from his attachment to the cause, which he has shown to be deeply rooted in principle, he will persevere to exert his distinguished, abilities, till the objects of it are obtained, with that inflexible firmness, and constitutional moderation, which have appeared so conspicuous and exemplary throughout the whole of his conduct, as to be highly deserving of the imitation of all good citizens. "john ewen, secretary." from a private letter written this year by one of the scottish delegates to a friend of mr. sheridan, (a copy of which letter i have found among the papers of the latter,) it appears that the disturbing effects of mr. burke's book had already shown themselves so strongly among the whig party as to fill the writer with apprehensions of their defection, even on the safe and moderate question of scotch reform. he mentions one distinguished member of the party, who afterwards stood conspicuously in the very van of the opposition, but who at that moment, if the authority of the letter may be depended upon, was, like others, under the spell of the great alarmist, and yielding rapidly to the influence of that anti-revolutionary terror, which, like the panic dignified by the ancients with the name of one of their gods, will be long associated in the memories of englishmen with the mighty name and genius of burke. a consultation was, however, held among this portion of the party, with respect to the prudence of lending their assistance to the measure of scotch reform; and sir james mackintosh, as i have heard him say, was in company with sheridan, when dr. lawrence came direct from the meeting, to inform him that they had agreed to support his motion. the state of the scotch representation is one of those cases where a dread of the ulterior objects of reform induces many persons to oppose its first steps, however beneficial and reasonable they may deem them, rather than risk a further application of the principle, or open a breach by which a bolder spirit of innovation may enter. as it is, there is no such thing as popular election in scotland. we cannot, indeed, more clearly form to ourselves a notion of the manner in which so important a portion of the british empire is represented, than by supposing the lords of the manor throughout england to be invested with the power of electing her representatives,--the manorial rights, too, being, in a much greater number of instances than at present, held independently of the land from which they derive their claim, and thus the natural connection between property and the right of election being, in most cases, wholly separated. such would be, as nearly as possible, a parallel to the system of representation now existing in scotland;--a system, which it is the understood duty of all present and future lord advocates to defend, and which neither the lively assaults of a sheridan nor the sounder reasoning and industry of an abercrombie have yet been able to shake. the following extract from another of the many letters of dr. parr to sheridan shows still further the feeling entertained towards burke, even by some of those who most violently differed with him:-- "during the recess of parliament i hope you will read the mighty work of my friend and your friend, and mr. fox's friend, mackintosh: there is some obscurity and there are many scotticisms in it; yet i do pronounce it the work of a most masculine and comprehensive mind. the arrangement is far more methodical than mr. burke's, the sentiments are more patriotic, the reasoning is more profound, and even the imagery in some places is scarcely less splendid. i think mackintosh a better philosopher, and a better citizen, and i know him to be a far better scholar and a far better man, than payne; in whose book there are great irradiations of genius, but none of the glowing and generous warmth which virtue inspires; that warmth which is often kindled in the bosom of mackintosh, and which pervades almost every page of mr. burke's book--though i confess, and with sorrow i confess, that the holy flame was quite extinguished in his odious altercation with you and mr. fox." a letter from the prince of wales to sheridan this year furnishes a new proof of the confidence reposed in him by his royal highness. a question of much delicacy and importance having arisen between that illustrious personage and the duke of york, of a nature, as it appears, too urgent to wait for a reference to mr. fox, sheridan had alone the honor of advising his royal highness in the correspondence that took place between him and his royal brother on that occasion. though the letter affords no immediate clue to the subject of these communications, there is little doubt that they referred to a very important and embarrassing question, which is known to have been put by the duke of york to the heir-apparent, previously to his own marriage this year;--a question which involved considerations connected with the succession to the crown, and which the prince, with the recollection of what occurred on the same subject in , could only get rid of by an evasive answer. chapter v. death of mrs. sheridan. in the year , after a long illness, which terminated in consumption, mrs. sheridan died at bristol, in the thirty-eighth year of her age. there has seldom, perhaps, existed a finer combination of all those qualities that attract both eye and heart, than this accomplished and lovely person exhibited. to judge by what we hear, it was impossible to see her without admiration, or know her without love; and a late bishop used to say that she "seemed to him the connecting link between woman and angel." [footnote: jackson of exeter, too, giving a description of her, in some memoirs of his own life that were never published, said that to see her, as she stood singing beside him at the piano-forte, was "like looking into the face of an angel."] the devotedness of affection, too, with which she was regarded, not only by her own father and sisters, but by all her husband's family, showed that her fascination was of that best kind which, like charity, "begins at home;" and that while her beauty and music enchanted the world, she had charms more intrinsic and lasting for those who came nearer to her. we have already seen with what pliant sympathy she followed her husband through his various pursuits,-- identifying herself with the politician as warmly and readily as with the author, and keeping love still attendant on genius through all his transformations. as the wife of the dramatist and manager, we find her calculating the receipts of the house, assisting in the adaptation of her husband's opera, and reading over the plays sent in by dramatic candidates. as the wife of the senator and orator we see her, with no less zeal, making extracts from state-papers, and copying out ponderous pamphlets,--entering with all her heart and soul into the details of elections, and even endeavoring to fathom the mysteries of the funds. the affectionate and sensible care with which she watched over, not only her own children, but those which her beloved sister, mrs. tickell, confided to her, in dying, gives the finish to this picture of domestic usefulness. when it is recollected, too, that the person thus homelily employed was gifted with every charm that could adorn and delight society, it would be difficult, perhaps, to find any where a more perfect example of that happy mixture of utility and ornament, in which all that is prized by the husband and the lover combines, and which renders woman what the sacred fire was to the parsees,--not only an object of adoration on their altars, but a source of warmth and comfort to their hearths. to say that, with all this, she was not happy, nor escaped the censure of the world, is but to assign to her that share of shadow, without which nothing bright ever existed on this earth. united not only by marriage, but by love, to a man who was the object of universal admiration, and whose vanity and passions too often led him to yield to the temptations by which he was surrounded, it was but natural that, in the consciousness of her own power to charm, she should be now and then piqued into an appearance of retaliation, and seem to listen with complaisance to some of those numerous worshippers, who crowd around such beautiful and unguarded shrines. not that she was at any time unwatched by sheridan,--on the contrary, he followed her with a lover's eyes throughout; and it was believed of both, by those who knew them best, that, even when they seemed most attracted by other objects, they would willingly, had they consulted the real wishes of their hearts, have given up every one in the world for each other. so wantonly do those, who have happiness in their grasp, trifle with that rare and delicate treasure, till, like the careless hand playing with the rose, "in swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas, they snap it--it falls to ground." they had, immediately after their marriage, as we have seen, passed some time in a little cottage at eastburnham, and it was a period, of course, long remembered by them both for its happiness. i have been told by a friend of sheridan, that he once overheard him exclaiming to himself, after looking for some moments at his wife, with a pang, no doubt, of melancholy self-reproach,--"could anything bring back those first feelings?" then adding with a sigh, "yes, perhaps, the cottage at eastburnham might." in this as well as in some other traits of the same kind, there is assuredly any thing but that common-place indifference, which too often clouds over the evening of married life. on the contrary, it seems rather the struggle of affection with its own remorse; and, like the humorist who mourned over the extinction of his intellect so eloquently as to prove that it was still in full vigor, shows love to be still warmly alive in the very act of lamenting its death. i have already presented the reader with some letters of mrs. sheridan, in which the feminine character of her mind very interestingly displays itself. their chief charm is unaffectedness, and the total absence of that literary style, which in the present day infects even the most familiar correspondence. i shall here give a few more of her letters, written at different periods to the elder sister of sheridan,--it being one of her many merits to have kept alive between her husband and his family, though so far separated, a constant and cordial intercourse, which, unluckily, after her death, from his own indolence and the new connections into which he entered, was suffered to die away, almost entirely. the first letter, from its allusion to the westminster scrutiny, must have been written in the year , mr. fox having gained his great victory over sir cecil wray on the th of may, and the scrutiny having been granted on the same day. "my dear lissy, "_london, june ._ "i am happy to find by your last that our apprehensions on charles's account were useless. the many reports that were circulated here of his accident gave us a good deal of uneasiness; but it is no longer wonderful that he should be buried here, when mr. jackman has so barbarously murdered him with you. i fancy he would risk another broken head, rather than give up his title to it as an officer of the crown. we go on here wrangling as usual, but i am afraid all to no purpose. those who are in possession of power are determined to use it without the least pretence to justice or consistency. they have ordered a scrutiny for westminster, in defiance of all law or precedent, and without any other hope or expectation but that of harassing and tormenting mr. fox and his friends, and obliging them to waste their time and money, which perhaps they think might otherwise be employed to a better purpose in another cause. we have nothing for it but patience and perseverance, which i hope will at last be crowned with success, though i fear it will be a much longer trial than we at first expected. i hear from every body that your ... are vastly disliked--but are you not all kept in awe by such beauty? i know she flattered herself to subdue all your volunteers by the fire of her eyes only:--how astonished she must be to find that they have not yet laid down their arms! there is nothing would tempt me to trust my sweet person upon the water sooner than the thoughts of seeing you; but i fear my friendship will hardly ever be put to so hard a trial. though sheridan is not in office, i think he is more engaged by politics than ever. "i suppose we shall not leave town till september. we have promised to pay many visits, but i fear we shall be obliged to give up many of our schemes, for i take it for granted parliament will meet again as soon as possible. we are to go to chatsworth, and to another friend of mine in that neighborhood, so that i doubt our being able to pay our annual visit to crewe hall. mrs. crewe has been very ill all this winter with your old complaint, the rheumatism--she is gone to brightelmstone to wash it away in the sea. do you ever see mrs. greville? i am glad to hear my two nephews are both in so thriving a way. are you still a nurse? i should like to take a peep at your bantlings. which is the handsomest? have you candor enough to think any thing equal to your own boy? if you have, you have more merit than i can claim. pray remember me kindly to bess, mr. l., &c., and don't forget to kiss the little squaller for me when you have nothing better to do. god bless you. "ever yours." "the inclosed came to dick in one of charles's franks; he said he should write to you himself with it, but i think it safest not to trust him." in another letter, written in the same year, there are some touches both of sisterly and of conjugal feeling, which seem to bespeak a heart happy in all its affections. "my dear lissy, _putney, august ._ "you will no doubt be surprised to find me still dating from this place, but various reasons have detained me here from day to day, to the great dissatisfaction of my dear mary, who has been expecting me hourly for the last fortnight. i propose going to hampton-court tonight, if dick returns in any decent time from town. "i got your letter and a half the day before yesterday, and shall be very well pleased to have such blunders occur more frequently. you mistake, if you suppose i am a friend to your tarrers and featherers:--it is such wretches that always ruin a good cause. there is no reason on earth why you should not have a new parliament as well as us:--it might not, perhaps, be quite as convenient to our immaculate minister, but i sincerely hope he will not find your volunteers so accommodating as the present india troops in our house of commons. what! does the secretary at war condescend to reside in any house but his own?--'tis very odd he should turn himself out of doors in his situation. i never could perceive any economy in dragging furniture from one place to another; but, of course, he has more experience in these matters than i have. "mr. forbes dined here the other day, and i had a great deal of conversation with him on various subjects relating to you all. he says, charles's manner of talking of his wife, &c. is so ridiculous, that, whenever he comes into company, they always cry out,--'now s----a, we allow you half an hour to talk of the beauties of mrs. s.----, half an hour to your child, and another half hour to your farm,--and then we expect you will behave like a reasonable person.' "so mrs. ---- is not happy: poor thing, i dare say, if the truth were known, he teazes her to death. your _very good_ husbands generally contrive to make you sensible of their merit somehow or other. "from a letter mr. canning has just got from dublin, i find you have been breaking the heads of some of our english heroes. i have no doubt in the world that they deserved it; and if half a score more that i know had shared the same fate, it might, perhaps become less the fashion among our young men to be such contemptible coxcombs as they certainly are. "my sister desired me to say all sorts of affectionate things to you, in return for your kind remembrance of her in your last. i assure you, you lost a great deal by not seeing her in her maternal character:--it is the prettiest sight in the world to see her with her children:--they are both charming creatures, but my little namesake is my delight:--'tis impossible to say how foolishly fond of her i am. poor mary! she is in a way to have more;--and what will become of them all is sometimes a consideration that gives me many a painful hour. but _they_ are happy, with _their_ little portion of the goods of this world:--then, what are riches good for? for my part, as you know, poor dick and i have always been struggling against the stream, and shall probably continue to do so to the end of our lives,--yet we would not change sentiments or sensations with ... for all his estate. by the bye, i was told t'other day he was going to receive eight thousand pounds as a compromise for his uncle's estate, which has been so long in litigation;--is it true?--i dare say it is, though, or he would not be so discontented as you say he is. god bless you.--give my love to bess, and return a kiss to my nephew for me. remember me to mr. l. and believe me "truly yours." the following letter appears to have been written in , some months after the death of her sister, miss maria linley. her playful allusions to the fame of her own beauty might have been answered in the language of paris to helen:-- "_minor est tua gloria vero famaque de forma pene maligna est_." "thy beauty far outruns even rumor's tongue, and envious fame leaves half thy charms unsung." "my dear lissy, "_delapre abbey, dec. ._ "notwithstanding your incredulity, i assure you i wrote to you from hampton-court, very soon after bess came to england. my letter was a dismal one; for my mind was at that time entirely occupied by the affecting circumstance of my poor sister's death. perhaps you lost nothing by not receiving my letter, for it was not much calculated to amuse you. "i am still a recluse, you see, but i am preparing to _launch_ for the winter in a few days. dick was detained in town by a bad fever:--you may suppose i was kept in ignorance of his situation, or i should not have remained so quietly here. he came last week, and the fatigue of the journey very nearly occasioned a relapse:--but by the help of a jewel of a doctor that lives in this neighborhood we are both quite stout and well again, (for _i_ took it into my head to fall sick again, too, without rhyme or reason.) "we purpose going to town to-morrow or next day. our own house has been painting and papering, and the weather has been so unfavorable to the business, that it is probable it will not be fit for us to go into this month; we have, therefore, accepted a most pressing invitation of general burgoyne to take up our abode with him, till our house is ready; so your next must be directed to bruton-street, under cover to dick, unless charles will frank it again. i don't believe what you say of charles's not being glad to have seen me in dublin. you are very flattering in the reasons you give, but i rather think his vanity would have been more gratified by showing every body how much prettier and younger his wife was than the mrs. sheridan in whose favor they have been prejudiced by your good-natured partiality. if i could have persuaded myself to trust the treacherous ocean, the pleasure of seeing you and your nursery would have compensated for all the fame i should have lost by a comparison. but my guardian sylph, vainer of my beauty, perhaps, than myself, would not suffer me to destroy the flattering illusion _you_ have so often displayed to your irish friends. no,--i shall stay till i am past all pretensions, and then you may excuse your want of taste by saying, 'oh, if you had seen her when she was young!' "i am very glad that bess is satisfied with my attention to her. the unpleasant situation i was in prevented my seeing her as often as i could wish. for _her_ sake i assure you i shall be glad to have dick and your father on good terms, without entering into any arguments on the subject; but i fear, where _one_ of the parties, at least, has a _tincture_ of what they call in latin _damnatus obstinatus mulio_, the attempt will be difficult, and the success uncertain. god bless you, and believe me "_mrs. lefanu, great cuff-street, dublin_. "truly yours." the next letter i shall give refers to the illness with which old mr. sheridan was attacked in the beginning of the year , and of which he died in the month of august following. it is unnecessary to direct the reader's attention to the passages in which she speaks of her lost sister, mrs. tickell, and her children:--they have too much of the heart's best feelings in them to be passed over slightly. "my dear lissy, "_london, april ._ "your last letter i hope was written when you were low spirited, and consequently inclined to forebode misfortune. i would not show it to sheridan:--he has lately been much harassed by business, and i could not bear to give him the pain i know your letter would have occasioned. partial as your father has always been to charles, i am confident _he_ never has, nor ever will feel half the duty and affections that dick has always exprest. i know how deeply he will be afflicted, if you confirm the melancholy account of his declining health;--but i trust your next will remove my apprehensions, and make it unnecessary for me to wound his affectionate heart by the intelligence. i flatter myself likewise, that you have been without reason alarmed about poor bess. her life, to be sure, must be dreadful;--but i should hope the good nature and kindness of her disposition will support her, and enable her to continue the painful duty so necessary, probably, to the comfort of your poor father. if charles has not or does not do every thing in his power to contribute to the happiness of the few years which nature can allow him, he will have more to answer to his conscience than i trust any of those dear to me will have. mrs. crewe told us, the other day, she had heard from mrs. greville, that every thing was settled much to your father's satisfaction. i _will_ hope, therefore, as i have said before, you were in a gloomy fit when you wrote, and in the mean time i will congratulate you on the recovery of your own health and that of your children. "i have been confined now near two months:--i caught cold almost immediately on coming to town, which brought on all those dreadful complaints with which i was afflicted at crewe-hall. by constant attention and strict regimen i am once more got about again; but i never go out of my house after the sun is down, and on those terms only can i enjoy tolerable health. i never knew dick better. my dear boy is now with me for his holydays, and a charming creature he is, i assure you, in every respect. my sweet little charge, too, promises to reward me for all my care and anxiety. the little ones come to me every day, though they do not at present live with me. we think of taking a house in the country this summer as necessary for my health and convenient to s., who must be often in town. i shall then have _all_ the children with me, as they now constitute a very great part of my happiness. the scenes of sorrow and sickness i have lately gone through have depressed my spirits, and made me incapable of finding pleasure in the amusements which used to occupy me perhaps too much. my greatest delight is in the reflection that i am acting according to the wishes of my ever dear and lamented sister, and that by fulfilling the sacred trust bequeathed me in her last moments, i insure my own felicity in the grateful affection of the sweet creatures,--whom, though i love for their own sakes, i idolize when i consider them as the dearest part of her who was the first and nearest friend of my heart! god bless you, my dear liss:--this is a subject that always carries me away. i will therefore bid you adieu,--only entreating you as soon as you can to send me a more comfortable letter. my kind love to bess, and mr. l. "yours, ever affectionately." i shall give but one more letter; which is perhaps only interesting as showing how little her heart went along with the gayeties into which her husband's connection with the world of fashion and politics led her. "my dear lissy, "_may ._ "i have only time at present to write a few lines at the request of mrs. crewe, who is made very unhappy by an account of mrs. greville's illness, as she thinks it possible mrs. g. has not confessed the whole of her situation. she earnestly wishes you would find out from dr. quin what the nature of her complaint is, with every other particular you can gather on the subject, and give me a line as soon as possible. "i am very glad to find your father is better. as there has been a recess lately from the trial, i thought it best to acquaint sheridan with his illness. i hope now, however, there is but little reason to be alarmed about him. mr. tickell has just received an account from holland, that poor mrs. berkeley, (whom you know best as betty tickell,) was at the point of death in a consumption. "i hope in a very short time now to get into the country. the duke of norfolk has lent us a house within twenty miles of london; and i am impatient to be once more out of this noisy, dissipated town, where i do nothing that i really like, and am forced to appear pleased with every thing odious to me. god bless you. i write in the hurry of dressing for a great ball given by the duke of york to night, which i had determined not to go to till late last night, when i was persuaded that it would be very improper to refuse a royal invitation, if i was not absolutely confined by illness. adieu. believe me truly yours. "you must pay for this letter, for dick has got your last with the direction; and any thing in his hands is _irrecoverable_!" the health of mrs. sheridan, as we see by some of her letters, had been for some time delicate; but it appears that her last, fatal illness originated in a cold, which she had caught in the summer of the preceding year. though she continued from that time to grow gradually worse, her friends were flattered with the hope that as soon as her confinement should take place, she would be relieved from all that appeared most dangerous in her complaint. that event, however, produced but a temporary intermission of the malady, which returned after a few days with such increased violence, that it became necessary for her, as a last hope, to try the waters of bristol. the following affectionate letter of tickell must have been written at this period:-- "my dear sheridan, "i was but too well prepared for the melancholy intelligence contained in your last letter, in answer to which, as richardson will give you this, i leave it to his kindness to do me justice in every sincere and affectionate expression of my grief for your situation, and my entire readiness to obey and further your wishes by every possible exertion. "if you have any possible opportunity, let me entreat you to remember me to the dearest, tenderest friend and sister of my heart. sustain yourself, my dear sheridan, "and believe me yours, "most affectionately and faithfully, "r. tickell." the circumstances of her death cannot better be told than in the language of a lady whose name it would be an honor to mention, who, giving up all other cares and duties, accompanied her dying friend to bristol, and devoted herself, with a tenderness rarely equalled even among women, to the soothing and lightening of her last painful moments. from the letters written by this lady at the time, some extracts have lately been given by miss lefanu [footnote: the talents of this young lady are another proof of the sort of _garet kind_ of genius allotted to the whole race of sheridan. i find her very earliest poetical work, "the sylphid queen," thus spoken of in a letter from the second mrs. sheridan to her mother, mrs. lefanu--"i should have acknowledged your very welcome present immediately, had not mr. sheridan, on my telling him what it was, run off with it, and i have been in vain endeavoring to get it from him ever since. what little i did read of it, i admired particularly, but it will be much more gratifying to you and your daughter to hear that _he_ read it with the greatest attention, and thought it showed a great deal of imagination."] in her interesting memoirs of her grandmother, mrs. frances sheridan. but their whole contents are so important to the characters of the persons concerned, and so delicately draw aside the veil from a scene of which sorrow and affection were the only witnesses, that i feel myself justified not only in repeating what has already been quoted, but in adding a few more valuable particulars, which, by the kindness of the writer and her correspondent, i am enabled to give from the same authentic source. the letters are addressed to mrs. h. lefanu, the second sister of mr. sheridan. "_bristol, june , ._ * * * * * "i am happy to have it in my power to give you any information on a subject so interesting to you, and to all that have the happiness of knowing dear mrs. sheridan; though i am sorry to add, it cannot be such as will relieve your anxiety, or abate your fears. the truth is, our poor friend is in a most precarious state of health, and quite given over by the faculty. her physician here, who is esteemed very skilful in consumptive cases, assured me from the first that it was a _lost case_; but as your brother seemed unwilling to know the truth, he was not so explicit with him, and only represented her as being in a very critical situation. poor man! he cannot bear to think her in danger himself, or that any one else should; though he is as attentive and watchful as if he expected every moment to be her last. it is impossible for any man to behave with greater tenderness, or to feel more on such an occasion, than he does. * * * * * "at times the dear creature suffers a great deal from weakness, and want of rest. she is very patient under her sufferings, and perfectly resigned. she is well aware of her danger, and talks of dying with the greatest composure. i am sure it will give you and mr. lefanu pleasure to know that her mind is well prepared for any change that may happen, and that she derives every comfort from religion that a sincere christian can look for." on the th of the same month mrs. sheridan died; and a letter from this lady, dated july th, thus touchingly describes her last moments. as a companion-picture to the close of sheridan's own life, it completes a lesson of the transitoriness of this world, which might sadden the hearts of the beautiful and gifted, even in their most brilliant and triumphant hours. far happier, however, in her death than he was, she had not only his affectionate voice to soothe her to the last, but she had one devoted friend, out of the many whom she had charmed and fascinated, to watch consolingly over her last struggle, and satisfy her as to the fate of the beloved objects which she left behind. "_july , ._ "our dear departed friend kept her bed only two days, and seemed to suffer less during that interval than for some time before. she was perfectly in her senses to the last moment, and talked with the greatest composure of her approaching dissolution; assuring us all that she had the most perfect confidence in the mercies of an all-powerful and merciful being, from whom alone she could have derived the inward comfort and support she felt at that awful moment! she said, she had no fear of death, and that all her concern arose from the thoughts of leaving so many dear and tender ties, and of what they would suffer from her loss. her own family were at bath, and had spent one day with her, when she was tolerably well. your poor brother now thought it proper to send for them, and to flatter them no longer. they immediately came;--it was the morning before she died. they were introduced one at a time at her bed-side, and were prepared as much as possible for this sad scene. the women bore it very well, but all our feelings were awakened for her poor father. the interview between him and the dear angel was afflicting and heart-breaking to the greatest degree imaginable. i was afraid she would have sunk under the cruel agitation:--she said it was indeed too much for her. she gave some kind injunction to each of them, and said everything she could to comfort them under this severe trial. they then parted, in the hope of seeing her again in the evening, but they never saw her more! mr. sheridan and i sat up all that night with her:--indeed he had done so for several nights before, and never left her one moment that could be avoided. about four o'clock in the morning we perceived an alarming change, and sent for her physician. [footnote: this physician was dr. bain, then a very young man, whose friendship with sheridan began by this mournful duty to his wife, and only ended with the performance of the same melancholy office for himself. as the writer of the above letters was not present during the interview which she describes between him and mrs. sheridan, there are a few slight errors in her account of what passed, the particulars of which, as related by dr. bain himself, are as follows:--on his arrival, she begged of sheridan and her female friend to leave the room, and then, desiring him to lock the door after them, said, "you have never deceived me:--tell me truly, shall i live over this night." dr. bain immediately felt her pulse, and, finding that she was dying, answered, "i recommend you to take some laudanum;" upon which she replied, "i understand you:--then give it me." dr. bain fully concurs with the writer of these letters in bearing testimony to the tenderness and affection that sheridan evinced on this occasion:--it was, he says, quite "the devotedness of a lover." the following note, addressed to him after the sad event was over, does honor alike to the writer and the receiver:-- "my dear sir, "i must request your acceptance of the inclosed for your professional attendance. for the kind and friendly attentions, which have accompanied your efforts, i must remain your debtor. the recollection of them will live in my mind with the memory of the dear lost object, whose sufferings you soothed, and whose heart was grateful for it. "believe me, "dear sir, "very sincerely yours, "_friday night_. "r. b. sheridan."] she said to him, 'if you can relieve me, do it quickly;--if not do not let me struggle, but give me some laudanum.' his answer was, 'then i will give you some laudanum.' she desired to see tom and betty tickell before she took it, of whom she took a most affecting leave! your brother behaved most wonderfully, though his heart was breaking; and at times his feelings were so violent, that i feared he would have been quite ungovernable at the last. yet he summoned up courage to kneel by the bed-side, till he felt the last pulse of expiring excellence, and then withdrew. she died at five o'clock in the morning, th of june. "i hope, my dear mrs. lefanu, you will excuse my dwelling on this most agonizing scene. i have a melancholy pleasure in so doing, and fancy it will not be disagreeable to you to hear all the particulars of an event so interesting, so afflicting, to all who knew the beloved creature! for my part, i never beheld such a scene--never suffered such a conflict--much as i have suffered on my own account. while i live, the remembrance of it and the dear lost object can never be effaced from my mind. "we remained ten days after the event took place at bristol; and on the th instant mr. sheridan and tom, accompanied by all her family (except mrs. linley), mr. and mrs. leigh, betty tickell and myself, attended the dear remains [footnote: the following striking reflection, which i have found upon a scrap of paper, in sheridan's handwriting, was suggested, no doubt, by his feelings on this occasion-- "the loss of the breath from a beloved object, long suffering in pain and certainly to die, is not so great a privation as the last loss of her beautiful remains, if they remain so. the victory of the grave is sharper than the sting of death."] to wells, where we saw her laid beside her beloved sister in the cathedral. the choir attended; and there was such a concourse of people of all sorts assembled on the occasion that we could hardly move along. mr. leigh read the service in a most affecting manner. indeed, the whole scene, as you may easily imagine, was awful and affecting to a very great degree. though the crowd certainly interrupted the solemnity very much, and, perhaps, happily for us abated somewhat of our feelings, which, had we been less observed, would not have been so easily kept down. "the day after the sad scene was closed we separated, your brother choosing to be left by himself with tom for a day or two. he afterwards joined us at bath, where we spent a few days with our friends, the leighs. last saturday we took leave of them, and on sunday we arrived at isleworth, where with much regret, i left your brother to his own melancholy reflections, with no other companions but his two children, in whom he seems at present entirely wrapped up. he suffered a great deal in returning the same road, and was most dreadfully agitated on his arrival at isleworth. his grief is deep and sincere, and i am sure will be lasting. he is in very good spirits, and at times is even cheerful, but the moment he is left alone he feels all the anguish of sorrow and regret. the dear little girl is the greatest comfort to him:--he cannot bear to be a moment without her. she thrives amazingly, and is indeed a charming little creature. tom behaves with constant and tender attention to his father:--he laments his dear mother sincerely, and at the time was violently affected;--but, at his age, the impressions of grief are not lasting; and his mind is naturally too lively and cheerful to dwell long on melancholy objects. he is in all respects truly amiable and in many respects so like his dear, charming mother, that i am sure he will be ever dear to my heart. i expect to have the pleasure of seeing mr. sheridan again next week, when i hope to find him more composed than when i took leave of him last sunday." to the mention which is made, in this affecting letter, of the father of mrs. sheridan, whose destiny it had been to follow to the grave, within a few short years, so many of his accomplished children, [footnote: in his eldest son thomas was drowned, while amusing himself in a pleasure-boat at the seat of the duke of ancaster. the pretty lines of mrs. sheridan to his violin are well known. a few years after, samuel, a lieutenant in the navy, was carried off by a fever. miss maria linley died in , and mrs. tickell in . i have erroneously stated, in a former part of this work, that mr. william linley is the only surviving branch of this family;--there is another brother, mr. ozias linley, still living.] i must add a few sentences more from another letter of the same lady, which, while they increase our interest in this amiable and ingenious man, bear testimony to sheridan's attaching powers, and prove how affectionate he must have been to her who was gone, to be thus loved by the father to whom she was so dear:-- "poor mr. linley has been here among us these two months. he is very much broke, but is still a very interesting and agreeable companion. i do not know any one more to be pitied than he is. it is evident that the recollection of past misfortunes preys on his mind, and he has no comfort in the surviving part of his family, they being all scattered abroad. mr. sheridan seems more his child than any one of his own, and i believe he likes being near him and his grandchildren." [footnote: in the memoirs of mrs. crouch i find the following anecdote:--"poor mr. linley after the death of one of his sons, when seated at the harpsichord in drury-lane theatre, in order to accompany the vocal parts of an interesting little piece taken from prior's henry and emma, by mr. tickell, and excellently represented by paduer and miss farren,--when the tutor of henry, mr. aikin gave an impressive description of a promising young man, in speaking of his pupil henry, the feelings of mr. linley could not be suppressed. his tears fell fast--nor did he weep alone." in the same work mrs. crouch is made to say that, after miss maria linley died, it was melancholy for her to sing to mr. linley, whose tears continually fell on the keys as he accompanied her; and if, in the course of her profession, she was obliged to practise a song which he had been accustomed to hear his lost daughter sing, the similarity of their manners and their voices, which he had once remarked with pleasure, then affected him to such a degree, that he was frequently forced to quit the instrument and walk about the room to recover his composure.] towards the autumn, (as we learn from another letter of this lady,) mr. sheridan endeavored to form a domestic establishment for himself at wanstead. "_wanstead, october_ , . "your brother has taken a house in this village very near me, where he means to place his dear little girl to be as much as possible under my projection. this was the dying request of my beloved friend; and the last effort of her mind and pen [footnote: there are some touching allusions to these last thoughts of mrs. sheridan, in an elegy, written by her brother, mr. william linley, soon after the news of the sad event reached him in india:-- "oh most beloved! my sister and my friend! while kindred woes still breathe around thine urn, long with the tear of absence must _i_ blend the sigh, that speaks thou never shall return. * * * * "'twas faith, that, bending o'er the bed of death, shot o'er thy pallid cheek a transient ray, with softer effort soothed thy laboring breath, gave grace to anguish, beauty to decay. "thy friends, thy children, claim'd thy latest care; theirs was the last that to thy bosom clung; for them to heaven thou sent'st the expiring prayer, the last that falter'd on thy trembling tongue."] was made the day before she expired, to draw up a solemn promise for both of us to sign, to ensure the strict performance of this last awful injunction: so anxious was she to commit this dear treasure to my care, well knowing how impossible it would be for a father, situated as your brother is, to pay that constant attention to her which a daughter so articularly requires. * * * you may be assured i shall engage in the task with the greatest delight and alacrity:--would to god that i were in the smallest degree qualified to supply the place of that angelic, all-accomplished mother, of whose tender care she has been so early 'deprived. all i _can_ do for her i _will_ do; and if i can succeed so far as to give her early and steady principles of religion, and to form her mind to virtue, i shall think my time well employed, and shall feel myself happy in having fulfilled the first wish of her beloved mother's heart. * * * * * "to return to your brother, he talks of having his house here immediately furnished and made ready for the reception of his nursery. it is a very good sort of common house, with an excellent garden, roomy and fit for the purpose, but will admit of no show or expense. i understand he has taken a house in jermyn-street, where he may see company, but he does not intend having any other country-house but this. isleworth he gives up, his time being expired there. i believe he has got a private tutor for tom--somebody very much to his mind. at one time he talked of sending him abroad with this gentleman, but i know not at present what his determinations are. he is too fond of tom's society to let him go from him for any time; but i think it would be more to his advantage if he would consent to part with him for two or three years. it is impossible for any man to be more devotedly attached to his children than he is and i hope they will be a comfort and a blessing to him, when the world loses its charms. the last time i saw him, which was for about five minutes, i thought he looked remarkably well, and seemed tolerably cheerful. but i have observed in general that this affliction has made a wonderful alteration in the expression of his countenance and in his manners. [footnote: i have heard a noble friend of sheridan say that, happening about this time to sleep in the room next to him, he could plainly hear him sobbing throughout the greater part of the night.] the leighs and my family spent a week with him at isleworth the beginning of august, where we were indeed most affectionately and hospitably entertained. i could hardly believe him to be the same man. in fact, we never saw him do the honors of his house before; _that,_ you know, he always left the dear, elegant creature, who never failed to please and charm every one who came within the sphere of her notice. nobody could have filled her place so well:--he seemed to have pleasure in making much of those whom she loved, and who, he knew, sincerely loved her. we all thought he never appeared to such advantage. he was attentive to every body and every thing, though grave and thoughtful; and his feelings, poor fellow, often ready to break forth in spite of his efforts to suppress them. he spent his evenings mostly by himself. he desired me, when i wrote, to let you know that she had by will made a little distribution of what she called 'her own property,' and had left you and your sister rings of remembrance, and her _fausse montre,_ containing mr. sheridan's picture to you, [footnote: this bequest is thus announced by sheridan himself in a letter to his sister, dated june , :--"i mean also to send by miss patrick a picture which has long been your property, by a bequest from one whose image is not often from my mind, and whose memory, i am sure, remains in yours."]--mrs. joseph lefanu having got hers. she left rings also to mr. and mrs. leigh, my sister, daughter, and myself, and positively forbids any others being given on any pretence, but these i have specified,--evidently precluding all her _fine friends_ from this last mark of her esteem and approbation. she had, poor thing, with some justice, turned from them all in disgust, and i observed, during her illness, never mentioned any of them with regard or kindness." the consolation which sheridan derived from his little daughter was not long spared to him. in a letter, without a date, from the same amiable writer, the following account of her death is given:-- "the circumstances attending this melancholy event were particularly distressing. a large party of young people were assembled at your brother's to spend a joyous evening in dancing. we were all in the height of our merriment,--he himself remarkably cheerful, and partaking of the amusement, when the alarm was given that the dear little angel was dying. it is impossible to describe the confusion and horror of the scene:--he was quite frantic, and i knew not what to do. happily there were present several kind, good-natured men, who had their recollection, and pointed out what should be done. we very soon had every possible assistance, and for a short time we had some hope that her precious life would have been spared to us--but that was soon at an end! "the dear babe never throve to my satisfaction:--she was small and delicate beyond imagination, and gave very little expectation of long life; but she had visibly declined during the last month. * * * mr. sheridan made himself very miserable at first, from an apprehension that she had been neglected or mismanaged; but i trust he is perfectly convinced that this was not the case. he was severely afflicted at first. the dear babe's resemblance to her mother after her death was so much more striking, that it was impossible to see her without recalling every circumstance of that afflicting scene, and he was continually in the room indulging the sad remembrance. in this manner he indulged his feelings for four or five days; then, having indispensable business, he was obliged to go to london, from whence he returned, on sunday, apparently in good spirits and as well as usual. but, however he may assume the appearance of ease or cheerfulness, his heart is not of a nature to be quickly reconciled to the loss of any thing he loves. he suffers deeply and secretly; and i dare say he will long and bitterly lament both mother and child." the reader will, i think, feel with me, after reading the foregoing letters, as well as those of mrs. sheridan, given in the course of this work, that the impression which they altogether leave on the mind is in the highest degree favorable to the characters both of husband and wife. there is, round the whole, an atmosphere of kindly, domestic feeling, which seems to answer for the soundness of the hearts that breathed in it. the sensibility, too, displayed by sheridan at this period, was not that sort of passionate return to former feelings, which the prospect of losing what it once loved might awaken in even the most alienated heart;--on the contrary, there was a depth and mellowness in his sorrow which could proceed from long habits of affection alone. the idea, indeed, of seeking solace for the loss of the mother in the endearments of the children would occur only to one who had been accustomed to find happiness in his home, and who therefore clung for comfort to what remained of the wreck. such, i have little doubt, were the natural feelings and dispositions of sheridan; and if the vanity of talent too often turned him aside from their influence, it is but another proof of the danger of that "light which leads astray," and may console those who, safe under the shadow of mediocrity, are unvisited by such disturbing splendors. the following letters on this occasion, from his eldest sister and her husband, are a further proof of the warm attachment which he inspired in those connected with him:-- "my dearest brother, "charles has just informed me that the fatal, the dreaded event has taken place. on my knees i implore the almighty to look down upon you in your affliction, to strengthen your noble, your feeling heart to bear it. oh my beloved brother, these are sad, sad trials of fortitude. one consolation, at least, in mitigation of your sorrow, i am sure you possess,--the consciousness of having done all you could to preserve the dear angel you have lost, and to soften the last painful days of her mortal existence. mrs. canning wrote to me that she was in a resigned and happy frame of mind: she is assuredly among the blest; and i feel and i think she looks down with benignity at my feeble efforts to soothe that anguish i participate. let me then conjure you, my dear brother, to suffer me to endeavor to be of use to you. could i have done it, i should have been with you from the time of your arrival at bristol. the impossibility of my going has made me miserable, and injured my health, already in a very bad state. it would give value to my life, could i be of that service i think i _might_ be of, if i were near you; and as i cannot go to you, and as there is every reason for your quitting the scene and objects before you, perhaps you may let us have the happiness of having you here, and my dear tom; i will write to him when my spirits are quieter. i entreat you, my dear brother, try what change of place can do for you: your character and talents are here held in the highest estimation; and you have here some who love you beyond the affection any in england can feel for you. "_cuff-street, th july_. "a. lefanu." "my dear good sir, "_wednesday, th july, ._ "permit me to join my entreaties to lissy's to persuade you to come over to us. a journey might be of service to you, and change of objects a real relief to your mind. we would try every thing to divert your thoughts from too intensely dwelling on certain recollections, which are yet too keen and too fresh to be entertained with safety, at least to occupy you too entirely. having been so long separated from your sister, you can hardly have an adequate idea of her love for you. i, who on many occasions have observed its operation, can truly and solemnly assure you that it far exceeds any thing i could ever have supposed to have been felt by a sister towards a brother. i am convinced you would experience such soothing in her company and conversation as would restore you to yourself sooner than any thing that could be imagined. come, then, my dear sir, and be satisfied you will add greatly to her comfort, and to that of your very affectionate friend, "j. lefanu." chapter vi. drury-lane theatre.--society of "the friends of the people."--madame de genlis.--war with france.--whig seceders.--speeches in parliament.--death of tickell. the domestic anxieties of mr. sheridan, during this year, left but little room in his mind for public cares. accordingly, we find that, after the month of april, he absented himself from the house of commons altogether. in addition to his apprehensions for the safety of mrs. sheridan, he had been for some time harassed by the derangement of his theatrical property, which was now fast falling into a state of arrear and involvement, from which it never after entirely recovered. the theatre of drury-lane having been, in the preceding year, reported by the surveyors to be unsafe and incapable of repair, it was determined to erect an entirely new house upon the same site; for the accomplishment of which purpose a proposal was made, by mr. sheridan and mr. linley, to raise the sum of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, by the means of three hundred debentures, of five hundred pounds each. this part of the scheme succeeded instantly; and i have now before me a list of the holders of the shares, appended to the proposal of , at the head of which the names of the three trustees, on whom the theatre was afterwards vested in the year , stand for the following number of shares:--albany wallis, ; hammersley, ; richard ford, . but, though the money was raised without any difficulty, the completion of the new building was delayed by various negotiations and obstacles, while, in the mean time, the company were playing, at an enormous expense, first in the opera-house, and afterwards at the haymarket-theatre, and mr. sheridan and mr. linley were paying interest for the first instalment of the loan. to these and other causes of the increasing embarrassments of sheridan is to be added the extravagance of his own style of living, which became much more careless and profuse after death had deprived him of her, whose maternal thoughtfulness alone would have been a check upon such improvident waste. we are enabled to form some idea of his expensive habits, by finding, from the letters which have just been quoted, that he was, at the same time, maintaining three establishments,--one at wanstead, where his son resided with his tutor; another at isleworth, which he still held, (as i learn from letters directed to him there,) in ; and the third, his town-house, in jermyn street. rich and ready as were the resources which the treasury of the theatre opened to him, and fertile as was his own invention in devising new schemes of finance, such mismanaged expenditure would exhaust even _his_ magic wealth, and the lamp must cease to answer to the rubbing at last. the tutor, whom he was lucky enough to obtain for his son at this time, was mr. william smythe, a gentleman who has since distinguished himself by his classical attainments and graceful talent for poetry. young sheridan had previously been under the care of dr. parr, with whom he resided a considerable time at hatton; and the friendship of this learned man for the father could not have been more strongly shown than in the disinterestedness with which he devoted himself to the education of the son. the following letter from him to mr. sheridan, in the may of this year, proves the kind feeling by which he was actuated towards him:-- "dear sir, "i hope tom got home safe, and found you in better spirits. he said something about drawing on your banker; but i do not understand the process, and shall not take any step. you will consult your own convenience about these things; for my connection with you is that of friendship and personal regard. i feel and remember slights from those i respect, but acts of kindness i cannot forget; and, though my life has been passed far more in doing than receiving services, yet i know and i value the good dispositions of yourself and a few other friends,--men who are worthy of that name from me. "if you choose tom to return, he knows and you know how glad i am always to see him. if not, pray let him do something, and i will tell you what he should do. "believe me, dear sir, "yours sincerely, "s. parr." in the spring of this year was established the society of "the friends of the people," for the express purpose of obtaining a parliamentary reform. to this association, which, less for its professed object than for the republican tendencies of some of its members, was particularly obnoxious to the loyalists of the day, mr. sheridan, mr. grey, and many others of the leading persons of the whig party, belonged. their address to the people of england, which was put forth in the month of april, contained an able and temperate exposition of the grounds upon which they sought for reform; and the names of sheridan, mackintosh, whitbread, &c., appear on the list of the committee by which this paper was drawn up. it is a proof of the little zeal which mr. fox felt at this period on the subject of reform, that he withheld the sanction of his name from a society, to which so many of his most intimate political friends belonged. some notice was, indeed, taken in the house of this symptom of backwardness in the cause; and sheridan, in replying to the insinuation, said that "they wanted not the signature of his right honorable friend to assure them i of his concurrence. they had his bond in the steadiness of his political principles and the integrity of his heart." mr. fox himself, however, gave a more definite explanation of the circumstance. "he might be asked," he said, "why his name was not on the list of the society for reform? his reason was, that though he saw great and enormous grievances, he did not see the remedy." it is to be doubted, indeed, whether mr. fox ever fully admitted the principle upon which the demand for a reform was founded. when he afterward espoused the question so warmly, it seems to have been merely as one of those weapons caught up in the heat of a warfare, in which liberty itself appeared to him too imminently endangered to admit of the consideration of any abstract principle, except that summary one of the right of resistance to power abused. from what has been already said, too, of the language held by sheridan on this subject, it may be concluded that, though far more ready than his friend to inscribe reform upon the banner of the party, he had even still less made up his mind as to the practicability or expediency of the measure. looking upon it as a question, the agitation of which was useful to liberty, and at the same time counting upon the improbability of its objects being ever accomplished, he adopted at once, as we have seen, the most speculative of all the plans that had been proposed, and flattered himself that he thus secured the benefit of the general principle, without risking the inconvenience of any of the practical details. the following extract of a letter from sheridan to one of his female correspondents, at this time, will show that he did not quite approve the policy of mr. fox in holding aloof from the reformers:-- "i am down here with mrs. canning and her family, while all my friends and party are meeting in town, where i have excused myself, to lay their wise heads together in this crisis. again i say there is nothing but what is unpleasant before my mind. i wish to occupy and fill my thoughts with public matters, and to do justice to the times, they afford materials enough; but nothing is in prospect to make activity pleasant, or to point one's efforts against one common enemy, making all that engage in the attack cordial, social, and united. on the contrary, every day produces some new schism and absurdity. windham has signed a nonsensical association with lord mulgrave; and when i left town yesterday, i was informed that the _divan_, as the meeting at debrett's is called, were furious at an _authentic_ advertisement from the duke of portland against charles fox's speech in the whig club, which no one before believed to be genuine, but which they now say dr. lawrence brought from burlington-house. if this is so, depend on it there will be a direct breach in what has been called the whig party. charles fox must come to the reformers openly and avowedly; and in a month four-fifths of the whig club will do the same." the motion for the abolition of the slave-trade, brought forward this year by mr. wilberforce, (on whose brows it may be said, with much more truth than of the roman general, "_annexuit africa lauros_,") was signalized by one of the most splendid orations that the lofty eloquence of mr. pitt ever poured forth. [footnote: it was at the conclusion of this speech that, in contemplating the period when africa would, he hoped, participate in those blessings of civilization and knowledge which were now enjoyed by more fortunate regions, he applied the happy quotation, rendered still more striking, it is said, by the circumstance of the rising sun just then shining in through the windows of the house:-- "_nos ... primus equis oriens afflavit anhelis, illic sera rubens accendit lumina vesper_."] i mention the debate, however, for the mere purpose of remarking, as a singularity, that, often as this great question was discussed in parliament, and ample as was the scope which it afforded for the grander appeals of oratory, mr. sheridan was upon no occasion tempted to utter even a syllabic on the subject,-- except once for a few minutes, in the year , upon some point relating to the attendance of a witness. the two or three sentences, however, which he did speak on that occasion were sufficient to prove, (what, as he was not a west-india proprietor, no one can doubt,) that the sentiments entertained by him on this interesting topic were, to the full extent, those which actuated not only his own party, but every real lover of justice and humanity throughout the world. to use a quotation which he himself applied to another branch of the question in :-- "i would not have a slave to till my ground, to fan me when i sleep, and tremble when i wake, for all that human sinews, bought and sold, have ever earn'd." the national convention having lately, in the first paroxysm of their republican vanity, conferred the honor of citizenship upon several distinguished englishmen, and, among others, upon mr. wilberforce and sir james mackintosh, it was intended, as appears by the following letter from mr. stone, (a gentleman subsequently brought into notice by the trial of his brother for high treason,) to invest mr. fox and mr. sheridan with the same distinction, had not the prudent interference of mr. stone saved them from this very questionable honor. the following is the letter which this gentleman addressed to sheridan on the occasion. "_paris, nov. , year , of the french republic._ "dear sir, "i have taken a liberty with your name, of which i ought to give you notice, and offer some apology. the convention, having lately enlarged their connections in europe, are ambitious of adding to the number of their friends by bestowing some mark of distinction on those who have stood forth in support of their cause, when its fate hung doubtful. the french conceive that they owe this obligation very eminently to you and mr. fox; and, to show their gratitude, the committee appointed to make the report has determined to offer to you and mr. fox the honor of citizenship. had this honor never been conferred before, had it been conferred only on worthy members of society, or were you and mr. fox only to be named at this moment, i should not have interfered. but as they have given the title to obscure and vulgar men and scoundrels, of which they are now very much ashamed themselves, i have presumed to suppose that you would think yourself much more honored in the breach than the observance, and have therefore caused your nomination to be suspended. but i was influenced in this also by other considerations, of which one was, that, though the committee would be more careful in their selection than the last had been, yet it was probable you would not like to share the honors with such as would be chosen. but another more important one that weighed with me was, that this new character would not be a small embarrassment in the route which you have to take the next session of parliament, when the affairs of france must necessarily be often the subject of discussion. no one will suspect mr. wilberforce of being seduced, and no one has thought that he did any thing to render him liable to seduction; as his superstition and devotedness to mr. pitt have kept him perfectly _à l'abri_ from all temptations to err on the side of liberty, civil or religious. but to you and mr. fox the reproach will constantly be made, and the blockheads and knaves in the house will always have the means of influencing the opinions of those without, by opposing with success your english character to your french one; and that which is only a mark of gratitude for past services will be construed by malignity into a bribe of some sort for services yet to be rendered. you may be certain that, in offering the reasons for my conduct, i blush that i think it necessary to stoop to such prejudices. of this, however, you will be the best judge, and i should esteem it a favor if you would inform me whether i have done right, or whether i shall suffer your names to stand as they did before my interference. there will be sufficient time for me to receive your answer, as i have prevailed on the reporter, m. brissot, to delay a few days. i have given him my reasons for wishing the suspension, to which he has assented. mr. o'brien also prompted me to this deed, and, if i have done wrong, he must take half the punishment. my address is "rose, huissier," under cover of the president of the national convention. "i have the honor to be "your most obedient "and most humble servant, "j.h. stone." it was in the month of october of this year that the romantic adventure of madame de genlis, (in the contrivance of which the practical humor of sheridan may, i think, be detected,) occurred on the road between london and dartford. this distinguished lady had, at the dose of the year , with a view of escaping the turbulent scenes then passing in france, come over with her illustrious pupil, mademoiselle d'orleans, and her adopted daughter, pamela, [footnote: married at tournay in the month of december, , to lord edward fitzgerald. lord edward was the only one, among the numerous suitors of mrs. sheridan, to whom she is supposed to have listened with any thing like a return of feeling; and that there should be mutual admiration between two such noble specimens of human nature, it is easy, without injury to either of them, to believe. some months before her death, when sheridan had been describing to her and lord edward a beautiful french girl whom he had lately seen, and added that she put him strongly in mind of what his own wife had been in the first bloom of her youth and beauty, mrs. sheridan turned to lord edward, and said with a melancholy smile, "i should like you, when i am dead, to marry that girl." this was pamela, whom sheridan had just seen during his visit of a few hours to madame de genlis, at bury, in suffolk, and whom lord edward married in about a year after.] to england, where she received both from mr. fox and mr. sheridan, all that attention to which her high character for talent, as well as the embarrassing nature of her situation at that moment, claimed for her. the following letter from her to mr. fox i find inclosed in one from the latter to mr. sheridan:-- "sir, "you have, by your infinite kindness, given me the right to show you the utmost confidence. the situation i am in makes me desire to have with me, during two days, a person perfectly well instructed in the laws, and very sure and honest. i desire such a person that i could offer to him all the money he would have for this trouble. but there is not a moment to be lost on the occasion. if you could send me directly this person, you would render me the most important service. to calm the most cruel agitation of a sensible and grateful soul shall be your reward.--oh could i see you but a minute!--i am uneasy, sick, unhappy; surrounded by the most dreadful snares of the fraud and wickedness; i am intrusted with the most interesting and sacred charge!--all these are my claims to hope your advices, protection and assistance. my friends are absent in that moment; there is only two names in which i could place my confidence and my hopes, pardon this bad language. as hypolite i may say, "'songez que je vous parle une langue étrangère,' but the feelings it expresses cannot be strangers to your heart. "sans avoir l'avantage d'être connue de monsieur fox, je prens la liberté de le supplier de comuniquer cette lettre à mr. sheridan, et si ce dernier n'est pas à londres, j'ose espérer de monsieur fox la même bonté que j'attendois de mr. shéridan dans l'embarras où je me trouve. je m'adresse aux deux personnes de l'angleterre que j'admire le plus, et je serois doublement heureuse d'être tirée de cette perplexité et de leur en avoir l'obligation. je serai peut être à londres incessament. je désirerois vivement les y trouver; mais en attendant je souhaite avec ardeur avoir ici le plus promptement possible l'homme de loi, ou seulement en êtat de donner de bons conseils que je demande. je renouvelle toutes mes excuses de tant d'importunités." it was on her departure for france in the present year that the celebrated adventure to which i have alluded, occurred; and as it is not often that the post boys between london and dartford are promoted into agents of mystery or romance, i shall give the entire narrative of the event in the lady's own words,--premising, (what mr. sheridan, no doubt discovered,) that her imagination had been for some time on the watch for such incidents, as she mentions, in another place, her terrors at the idea of "crossing the desert plains of newmarket without an escort." "we left london," says madame de genlis, "on our return to france the th of october, , and a circumstance occurred to us so extraordinary, that i ought not, i feel, to pass it over in silence. i shall merely, however, relate the fact, without any attempt to explain it, or without adding to my recital any of those reflections which the impartial reader will easily supply. we set out at ten o'clock in the morning in two carriages, one with six horses, and the other, in which were our maids, with four. i had, two months before, sent off four of my servants to paris, so that we had with us only one french servant, and a footman, whom we had hired to attend us as far as dover. when we were about a quarter of a league from london, the french servant, who had never made the journey from dover to london but once before, thought he perceived that we were not in the right road, and on his making the remark to me, i perceived it also. the postillions, on being questioned, said that they had only wished to avoid a small hill, and that they would soon return into the high road again. after an interval of three quarters of an hour, seeing that we still continued our way through a country that was entirely new to me, i again interrogated both the footman and the postillions, and they repeated their assurance that we should soon regain the usual road. "notwithstanding this, however, we still pursued our course with extreme rapidity, in the same unknown route; and as i had remarked that the post-boys and footman always answered me in a strange sort of laconic manner, and appeared as if they were afraid to stop, my companions and i began to look at each other with a mixture of surprise and uneasiness. we renewed our inquiries, and at last they answered that it was indeed true they had lost their way, but that they had wished to conceal it from us till they had found the cross-road to dartford (our first stage,) and that now, having been for an hour and a half in that road, we had but two miles to go before we should reach dartford. it appeared to us very strange that people should lose their way between london and dover, but the assurance that we were only half a league from dartford dispelled the sort of vague fear that had for a moment agitated us. at last, after nearly an hour had elapsed, seeing that we still were not arrived at the end of the stage, our uneasiness increased to a degree which amounted even to terror. it was with much difficulty that i made the post-boys stop opposite a small village which lay to our left; in spite of my shouts they still went on, till at last the french servant, (for the other did not interfere,) compelled them to stop. i then sent to the village to ask how far we were from dartford, and my surprise may be guessed when i received for answer that we were now miles, (more than seven leagues,) distant from that place. concealing my suspicions, i took a guide in the village, and declared that it was my wish to return to london, as i found i was now at a less distance from that city than from dartford. the post-boys made much resistance to my desire, and even behaved with an extreme degree of insolence, but our french servant, backed by the guide, compelled them to obey. "as we returned at a very slow pace, owing to the sulkiness of the postboys and the fatigue of the horses, we did not reach london before nightfall, when i immediately drove to mr. sheridan's house. he was extremely surprised to see me returned, and on my relating to him our adventure, agreed with us that it could not have been the result of mere chance. he then sent for a justice of the peace to examine the post-boys, who were detained till his arrival under the pretence of calculating their account; but in the meantime, the hired footman disappeared and never returned. the post-boys being examined by the justice according to the legal form, and in the presence of witnesses, gave their answers in a very confused way, but confessed that an unknown gentleman had come in the morning to their masters, and carrying them from thence to a public-house, had, by giving them something to drink, persuaded them to take the road by which we had gone. the examination was continued for a long time, but no further confession could be drawn from them. mr. sheridan told me, that there was sufficient proof on which to ground an action against these men, but that it would be a tedious process, and cost a great deal of money. the post-boys were therefore dismissed, and we did not pursue the inquiry any further. as mr. sheridan saw the terror i was in at the very idea of again venturing on the road to dover, he promised to accompany us thither himself, but added that, having some indispensable business on his hands, he could not go for some days. he took us then to isleworth, a country-house which he had near richmond, on the banks of the thames, and as he was not able to dispatch his business so quickly as he expected, we remained for a month in that hospitable retreat, which both gratitude and friendship rendered so agreeable to us." it is impossible to read this narrative, with the recollection, at the same time, in our minds of the boyish propensity of sheridan to what are called practical jokes, without strongly suspecting that he was himself the contriver of the whole adventure. the ready attendance of the justice,--the "unknown gentleman" deposed to by the post-boys,--the disappearance of the laquais, and the advice given by sheridan that the affair should be pursued no further,--all strongly savor of dramatic contrivance, and must have afforded a scene not a little trying to the gravity of him who took the trouble of getting it up. with respect to his motive, the agreeable month at his country-house sufficiently explains it; nor could his conscience have felt much scruples about an imposture, which, so far from being attended with any disagreeable consequences, furnished the lady with an incident of romance, of which she was but too happy to avail herself, and procured for him the presence of such a distinguished party, to grace and enliven the festivities of isleworth. [footnote: in the memoirs of madame genlis, lately published, she supplies a still more interesting key to his motives for such a contrivance. it appears, from the new recollections of this lady, that "he was passionately in love with pamela," and that, before her departure from england, the following scene took place--"two days before we set out, mr. sheridan made, in my presence, his dedication of love to pamela, who was affected by his agreeable manner and high character, and accepted the offer of his hand with pleasure. in consequence of this, it was settled that he was to marry her on our return from france, which was expected to take place in a fortnight." i suspect this to be but a continuation of the romance of dartford.] at the end of the month, (adds madame de genlis,) "mr. sheridan having finished his business, we set off together for dover, himself, his son, and an english friend of his, mr. reid, with whom i was but a few days acquainted. it was now near the end of the month of november, . the wind being adverse, detained us for five days at dover, during all which time mr. sheridan remained with us. at last the wind grew less unfavorable, but still blew so violently that nobody would advise me to embark. i resolved, however, to venture, and mr. sheridan attended us into the very packet-boat, where i received his farewell with a feeling of sadness which i cannot express. he would have crossed with us, but that some indispensable duty, at that moment, required his presence in england. he, however, left us mr. reid, who had the goodness to accompany us to paris." in war was declared between england and france. though hostilities might, for a short time longer, have been avoided, by a more accommodating readiness in listening to the overtures of france, and a less stately tone on the part of the english negotiator, there could hardly have existed in dispassionate minds any hope of averting the war entirely, or even of postponing it for any considerable period. indeed, however rational at first might have been the expectation, that france, if left to pass through the ferment of her own revolution, would have either settled at last into a less dangerous form of power, or exhausted herself into a state of harmlessness during the process, this hope had been for some time frustrated by the crusade proclaimed against her liberties by the confederated princes of europe. the conference at pilnitz and the manifesto of the duke of brunswick had taught the french people what they were to expect, if conquered, and had given to that inundation of energy, under which the republic herself was sinking, a vent and direction outwards that transferred all the ruin to her enemies. in the wild career of aggression and lawlessness, of conquest without, and anarchy within, which naturally followed such an outbreak of a whole maddened people, it would have been difficult for england, by any management whatever, to keep herself uninvolved in the general combustion,--even had her own population been much less heartily disposed than they were then, and ever have been, to strike in with the great discords of the world. that mr. pitt himself was slow and reluctant to yield to the necessity of hostile measures against france, appears from the whole course of his financial policy, down to the very close of the session of . the confidence, indeed, with which he looked forward to a long continuance of peace, in the midst of events, that were audibly the first mutterings of the earthquake, seemed but little indicative of that philosophic sagacity, which enables a statesman to see the rudiments of the future in the present. [footnote: from the following words in his speech on the communication from france in , he appears, himself, to have been aware of his want of foresight at the commencement of the war:-- "besides this, the reduction of our peace establishment in the year , and continued to the subsequent year, is a fact, from which the inference is indisputable; a fact, which, i am afraid, shows not only that we were not waiting for the occasion of war, but that, in our partiality for a pacific system, we had indulged ourselves in a fond and credulous security, which wisdom and discretion would not have dictated."] "it is not unreasonable," said he on the st of february, , "to expect that the peace which we now enjoy should continue at least fifteen years, since at no period of the british history, whether we consider the internal situation of this kingdom or its relation to foreign powers, has the prospect of war been farther removed than at present." in pursuance of this feeling of security, he, in the course of the session of - , repealed taxes to the amount of , _l_. a year, made considerable reductions in the naval and military establishments, and allowed the hessian subsidy to expire, without any movement towards its renewal. he likewise showed his perfect confidence in the tranquillity of the country, by breaking off a negotiation into which he had entered with the holders of the four per cents, for the reduction of their stock to three per cent.--saying, in answer to their demand of a larger bonus than he thought proper to give, "then we will put off the reduction of this stock till next year." the truth is, mr. pitt was proud of his financial system;--the abolition of taxes and the reduction of the national debt were the two great results to which he looked as a proof of its perfection; and while a war, he knew, would produce the very reverse of the one, it would leave little more than the name and semblance of the other. the alarm for the safety of their establishments, which at this time pervaded the great mass of the people of england, earned the proof of its own needlessness in the wide extent to which it spread, and the very small minority that was thereby left to be the object of apprehension. that in this minority, (which was, with few exceptions, confined to the lower classes,) the elements of sedition and insurrection were actively at work, cannot be denied. there was not a corner of europe where the same ingredients were not brought into ferment; for the french revolution had not only the violence, but the pervading influence of the simoom, and while it destroyed where it immediately passed, made itself felt every where. but, surrounded and watched as were the few disaffected in england, by all the rank, property and power of the country,--animated at that moment by a more than usual portion of loyalty,--the dangers from sedition, as yet, were by no means either so deep or extensive, as that a strict and vigilant exercise of the laws already in being, would not have been abundantly adequate to all the purposes of their suppression. the admiration, indeed, with which the first dawn of the revolution was hailed had considerably abated. the excesses into which the new republic broke loose had alienated the worship of most of its higher class of votaries, and in some, as in mr. windham, had converted enthusiastic admiration into horror;--so that, though a strong sympathy with the general cause of the revolution was still felt among the few whigs that remained, the profession of its wild, republican theories was chiefly confined to two classes of persons, who coincide more frequently than they themselves imagine,--the speculative and the ignorant. the minister, however, gave way to a panic which, there is every reason to believe, he did not himself participate, and in going out of the precincts of the constitution for new and arbitrary powers, established a series of fatal precedents, of which alarmed authority will be always but too ready to avail itself. by these stretches of power he produced--what was far more dangerous than all the ravings of club politicians--that vehement reaction of feeling on the part of mr. fox and his followers, which increased with the increasing rigor of the government, and sometimes led them to the brink of such modes and principles of opposition, as aggressions, so wanton, upon liberty alone could have either provoked or justified. the great promoters of the alarm were mr. burke, and those other whig seceders, who had for some time taken part with the administration against their former friends, and, as is usual with such proselytes, outran those whom they joined, on every point upon which they before most differed from them. to justify their defection, the dangers upon which they grounded it, were exaggerated; and the eagerness with which they called for restrictions upon the liberty of the subject was but too worthy of deserters not only from their post but from their principles. one striking difference between these new pupils of toryism and their master was with respect to the ultimate object of the war.--mr. pitt being of opinion that security against the power of france, without any interference whatever with her internal affairs, was the sole aim to which hostilities should be directed; while nothing less than the restoration of the bourbons to the power which they possessed before the assembling of the etats genereaux could satisfy mr. burke and his fellow converts to the cause of thrones and hierarchies. the effect of this diversity of objects upon the conduct of the war--particularly after mr. pitt had added to "security for the future," the suspicious supplement of "indemnity for the past"--was no less fatal to the success of operations abroad than to the unity of councils at home. so separate, indeed, were the views of the two parties considered, that the unfortunate expedition, in aid of the vendean insurgents in , was known to be peculiarly the measure of the _burke_ part of the cabinet, and to have been undertaken on the sole responsibility of their ministerial organ, mr. windham. it must be owned, too, that the obect of the alarmists in the war, however grossly inconsistent with their former principles, had the merit of being far more definite than that of mr. pitt; and, had it been singly and consistently pursued from the first, with all the vigor and concentration of means so strenuously recommended by mr. burke, might have justified its quixotism in the end by a more speedy and less ruinous success. as it was, however, the divisions, jealousies and alarms which mr. pitt's views towards a future dismemberment of france excited not only among the continental powers, but among the french themselves, completely defeated every hope and plan for either concert without or co operation within. at the same time, the distraction of the efforts of england from the heart of french power to its remote extremities, in what mr. windham called "a war upon sugar islands," was a waste of means as unstatesmanlike as it was calamitous, and fully entitled mr. pitt to the satire on his policy, conveyed in the remark of a certain distinguished lady, who said to him, upon hearing of some new acquisition in the west indies, "i protest, mr. pitt, if you go on thus, you will soon be master of every island in the world except just those two little ones, england and ireland." [footnote: mr. sheridan quoted this anecdote in one of his speeches in .] that such was the light in which mr. sheridan himself viewed the mode of carrying on the war recommended by the alarmists, in comparison with that which mr. pitt in general adopted, appears from the following passage in his speech upon spanish affairs in the year :-- "there was hardly a person, except his right honorable friend near him, (mr. windham,) and mr. burke, who since the revolution of france had formed adequate notions of the necessary steps to be taken. the various governments which this country had seen during that period were always employed in filching for a sugar-island, or some other object of comparatively trifling moment, while the main and principal purpose was lost and forgotten," whatever were the failures of mr. pitt abroad, at home his ascendancy was fixed and indisputable; and, among all the triumphs of power which he enjoyed during his career, the tribute now paid to him by the whig aristocracy, in taking shelter under his ministry from the dangers of revolution, could not have been the least gratifying to his haughty spirit. the india bill had ranged on his side the king and the people, and the revolution now brought to his banner the flower of the nobility of both parties. his own estimate of rank may be fairly collected both from the indifference which he showed to its honors himself, and from the depreciating profusion with which he lavished them upon others. it may be doubted whether his respect for aristocracy was much increased, by the readiness which he now saw in some of his high-born opponents, to volunteer for safety into his already powerful ranks, without even pausing to try the experiment, whether safety might not have been reconcilable with principle in their own. it is certain that, without the accession of so much weight and influence, he never could have ventured upon the violations of the constitution that followed--nor would the opposition, accordingly, have been driven by these excesses of power into that reactive violence which was the natural consequence of an effort to resist them. the prudent apprehensions, therefore, of these noble whigs would have been much more usefully as well as honorably employed, in mingling with, and moderating the proceedings of the friends of liberty, than in ministering fresh fuel to the zeal and vindictiveness of her enemies. [footnote: the case against these noble seceders is thus spiritedly stated by lord moira:-- "i cannot ever sit in a cabinet with the duke of portland. he appears to me to have done more injury to the constitution and to the estimation of the higher ranks in this country than any man on the political stage. by his union with mr. pitt he has given it to be understood by the people, that either all the constitutional charges which he and his friends for so many years urged against mr. put were groundless, or that, being solid, there was no difficulty in waving them when a convenient partition of powers and emoluments was proposed. in either case the people must infer that the constitutional principle which can be so played with is unimportant, and that parliamentary professions are no security." --_letter from the earl of moira to colonel m'mahon, in . parliamentary history_.] it may be added, too, that in allowing themselves to be persuaded by burke, that the extinction of the ancient noblesse of france portended necessarily any danger to the english aristocracy, these noble persons did injustice to the strength of their own order, and to the characteristics by which it is proudly distinguished from every other race of nobility in europe. placed, as a sort of break-water, between the people and the throne, in a state of double responsibility to liberty on one side, and authority on the other, the aristocracy of england hold a station which is dignified by its own great duties, and of which the titles transmitted by their ancestors form the least important ornament. unlike the nobility of other countries, where the rank and privileges of the father are multiplied through his offspring, and equally elevate them all above the level of the community, the very highest english nobleman must consent to be the father but of commoners. thus, connected with the class below him by private as well as public sympathies, he gives his children to the people as hostages for the sincerity of his zeal in their cause--while on the other hand, the people, in return for these pledges of the aristocracy, sends a portion of its own elements aloft into that higher region, to mingle with its glories and assert their claim to a share in its power. by this mutual transfusion an equilibrium is preserved, like that which similar processes maintain in the natural world, and while a healthy, popular feeling circulates through the aristocracy, a sense of their own station in the scale elevates the people. to tremble for the safety of a nobility so constituted, without much stronger grounds for alarm than appear to have existed in , was an injustice not only to that class itself, but the whole nation. the world has never yet afforded an example, where this artificial distinction between mankind has been turned to such beneficial account; and as no monarchy can exist without such an order, so, in any other shape than this, such an order is a burden and a nuisance. in england, so happy a conformation of her aristocracy is one of those fortuitous results which time and circumstances have brought out in the long-tried experiment of her constitution; and, while there is no chance of its being ever again attained in the old world, there is but little, probability of its being attempted in the new,--where the youthful nations now springing into life, will, if they are wise, make the most of the free career before them, and unencumbered with the costly trappings of feudalism, adopt, like their northern neighbors, that form of government, whose simplicity and cheapness are the best guarantees for its efficacy and purity. in judging of the policy of mr. pitt, during the revolutionary war, his partisans, we know, laud it as having been the means of salvation to england, while his opponents assert that it was only prevented by chance from being her ruin--and though the event gives an appearance of triumph to the former opinion, it by no means removes or even weakens the grounds of the latter. during the first nine years of his administration, mr. pitt was, in every respect, an able and most useful minister, and, "while the sea was calm, showed mastership in floating." but the great events that happened afterwards took him by surprise. when he came to look abroad from his cabinet into the storm that was brewing through europe, the clear and enlarged view of the higher order of statesman was wanting. instead of elevating himself above the influence of the agitation and alarm that prevailed, he gave way to it with the crowd of ordinary minds, and even took counsel from the panic of others. the consequence was a series of measures, violent at home and inefficient abroad--far short of the mark where vigor was wanting, and beyond it, as often, where vigor was mischievous. when we are told to regard his policy as the salvation of the country--when, (to use a figure of mr. dundas,) a _claim of salvage_ is made for him--it may be allowed us to consider a little the nature of the measures by which this alleged salvation was achieved. if entering into a great war without either consistency of plan, or preparation of means, and with a total ignorance of the financial resources of the enemy [footnote: into his erroneous calculations upon this point he is supposed to have been led by sir francis d'ivernois.]--if allowing one part of the cabinet to flatter the french royalists, with the hope of seeing the bourbons restored to undiminished power, while the other part acted, whenever an opportunity offered, upon the plan of dismembering france for the aggrandizement of austria, and thus, at once, alienated prussia at the very moment of subsidizing him, and lost the confidence of all the royalist party in france, [footnote: among other instances, the abbé maury is reported to have said at rome in a large company of his countrymen--"still we have one remedy--let us not allow france to be divided--we have seen the partition of poland we must all turn jacobins to preserve our country."] except the few who were ruined by english assistance at quiberon--if going to war in for the right of the dutch to a river, and so managing it that in the dutch lost their whole seven provinces--if lavishing more money upon failures than the successes of a century had cost, and supporting this profusion by schemes of finance, either hollow and delusive, like the sinking fund, or desperately regardless of the future, like the paper issues--if driving ireland into rebellion by the perfidious recall of lord fitzwilliam, and reducing england to two of the most, fearful trials, that a nation, depending upon credit and a navy, could encounter, the stoppage of her bank and a mutiny in her fleet--if, finally, floundering on from effort to effort against france, and then dying upon the ruins of the last coalition he could muster against her--if all this betokens a wise and able minister, then is mr. pitt most amply entitled to that name;--then are the lessons of wisdom to be read, like hebrew, backward, and waste and rashness and systematic failure to be held the only true means of saving a country. had even success, by one of those anomalous accidents, which sometimes baffle the best founded calculations of wisdom, been the immediate result of this long monotony of error, it could not, except with those to whom the event is every thing--"_eventus, stultorum magister_" [footnote: a saying of the wise fabius.]--reflect back merit upon the means by which it was achieved, or, by a retrospective miracle, convert that into wisdom, which chance had only saved from the worst consequences of folly. just as well might we be called upon to pronounce alchemy a wise art, because a perseverance in its failures and reveries had led by accident to the discoveries of chemistry. but even this sanction of good-luck was wanting to the unredeemed mistakes of mr. pitt. during the eight years that intervened between his death and the termination of the contest, the adoption of a far wiser policy was forced upon his more tractable pupils; and the only share that his measures can claim in the successful issue of the war, is that of having produced the grievance that was then abated--of having raised up the power opposed to him to the portentous and dizzy height, from which it then fell by the giddiness of its own elevation, [footnote: --"_summisque negatum stare din_." lucan.] and by the reaction, not of the princes, but the people of europe against its yoke. what would have been the course of affairs, both foreign and domestic, had mr. fox--as was, at one time, not improbable--been the minister during this period, must be left to that superhuman knowledge, which the schoolmen call "_media scientia_," and which consists in knowing all that would have happened, had events been otherwise than they have been. it is probable that some of the results would not have been so different as the respective principles of mr. pitt and mr. fox might naturally lead us, on the first thought, to assert. if left to himself, there is little doubt that the latter, from the simple and fearless magnanimity of his nature, would have consulted for the public safety with that moderation which true courage inspires; and that, even had it been necessary to suspend the constitution for a season, he would have known how to veil the statue of liberty, [footnote: "_il y a des cas ou il faut mettre pour un moment un voile sur la liberté, comme l'on cache les statues des dieux_."--montesquieu, liv. xii. chap. .] without leaving like his rival, such marks of mutilation on its limbs. but it is to be recollected that he would have had to encounter, in his own ranks, the very same patrician alarm, which could even to mr. pitt give an increase of momentum against liberty, and which the possession of power would have rendered but more sensitive and arbitrary. accustomed, too, as he had long been, to yield to the influence of burke, it would have required more firmness than habitually belonged to mr. fox, to withstand the persevering impetuosity of such a counsellor, or keep the balance of his mind unshaken by those stupendous powers, which, like the horses of the sun breaking out of the ecliptic, carried every thing they seized upon, so splendidly astray:-- "_quaque impetus egit, hac sine lege ruunt, altoque sub aethere fixis incursant stellis, rapiuntque per avia currum_." where'er the impulse drives, they burst away in lawless grandeur;--break into the array of the fix'd stars, and bound and blaze along their devious course, magnificently wrong! having hazarded these general observations, upon the views and conduct of the respective parties of england, during the crusade now begun against the french people, i shall content myself with briefly and cursorily noticing the chief questions upon which mr. sheridan distinguished himself, in the course of the parliamentary campaigns that followed. the sort of _guerilla_ warfare, which he and the rest of the small band attached to mr. fox carried on, during this period, against the invaders of the constitution, is interesting rather by its general character than its detail; for in these, as usual, the episodes of party personality are found to encroach disproportionately on the main design, and the grandeur of the cause, as viewed at a distance, becomes diminished to our imaginations by too near an approach. englishmen, however, will long look back to that crisis with interest; and the names of fox, of sheridan, and of grey will be affectionately remembered, when that sort of false elevation, which party-feeling now gives to the reputations of some who were opposed to them, shall have subsided to its due level, or been succeeded by oblivion. they who act against the general sympathies of mankind, however they may be artificially buoyed up for the moment, have the current against them in the long run of fame; while the reputation of those, whose talents have been employed upon the popular and generous side of human feelings, receives, through all time, an accelerating impulse from the countless hearts that go with it in its course. lord chatham, even now, supersedes his son in fame, and will leave him at an immeasurable distance with posterity. of the events of the private life of mr. sheridan, during this stormy part of his political career, there remain but few memorials among his papers. as an illustration, however, of his love of betting--the only sort of gambling in which he ever indulged--the following curious list of his wagers for the year is not unamusing:-- _" th may, ._--mr. sheridan bets gen. fitzpatrick one hundred guineas to fifty guineas, that within two years from this date some measure is adopted in parliament which shall be (_bonâ fide_) considered as the adoption of a parliamentary reform. "_ th january, ._--mr. s. bets mr. boothby clopton five hundred guineas, that there is a reform in the representation of the people of england within three years from the date hereof. "_ th january, _.--mr. s. bets mr. hardy one hundred guineas to fifty guineas, that mr. w. windham does not represent norwich at the next general election. "_ th january, ._--mr. s. bets gen. fitzpatrick fifty guineas, that a corps of british troops are sent to holland within two months of the date hereof. "_ th march, ._--mr. s. bets lord titchfield two hundred guineas, that the d. of portland is at the head of an administration on or before the th of march, ; mr. fox to decide whether any place the duke may then fill shall _bonâ fide_ come within the meaning of this bet. "_ th march, _.--mr. s. bets mr. hardy one hundred guineas, that the three per cent. consols are as high this day twelvemonth as at the date hereof. "mr. s. bets gen. tarleton one hundred guineas to fifty guineas, that mr. pitt is first lord of the treasury on the th of may, .--mr. s. bets mr. st. a. st. john fifteen guineas to five guineas, ditto.--mr. s. bets lord sefton one hundred and forty guineas to forty guineas, ditto. _" th march, _.--lord titchfield and lord w. russell bet mr. s. three hundred guineas to two hundred guineas, that mr. pitt is first lord of the treasury on the th of march, . "_ th march, _.--lord titchfield bets mr. s. twenty-five guineas to fifty guineas, that mr. w. windham represents norwich at the next general election." as a sort of moral supplement to this strange list, and one of those insights into character and conduct which it is the duty of a biographer to give, i shall subjoin a letter, connected evidently with one of the above speculations:-- "sir, "i am very sorry that i have been so circumstanced as to have been obliged to disappoint you respecting the payment of the five hundred guineas: when i gave the draughts on lord * * i had every reason to be assured he would accept them, as * * had also. i enclose you, as you will see by his desire, the letter in which he excuses his not being able to pay me this part of a larger sum he owes me, and i cannot refuse him any time he requires, however inconvenient to me. i also enclose you two draughts accepted by a gentleman from whom the money will be due to me, and on whose punctuality i can rely. i extremely regret that i cannot at this juncture command the money. "at the same time that i regret your being put to any inconvenience by this delay, i cannot help adverting to the circumstance which perhaps misled me into the expectation that you would not unwillingly allow me any reasonable time i might want for the payment of this bet. the circumstance i mean, however discreditable the plea, is the total inebriety of some of the party, particularly of myself, when i made this preposterous bet. i doubt not you will remember having yourself observed on this circumstance to a common friend the next day, with an intimation that you should not object to being off; and for my part, when i was informed that i had made such a bet and for such a sum,--the first, such folly on the face of it on my part, and the latter so out of my practice,--i certainly should have proposed the cancelling it, but that, from the intimation imparted to me, i hoped the proposition might come from you. "i hope i need not for a moment beg you not to imagine that i am now alluding to these circumstances as the slightest invalidation of your due. so much the contrary, that i most perfectly admit that from your not having heard any thing further from me on the subject, and especially after i might have heard that if i desired it the bet might be off, you had every reason to conclude that i was satisfied with the wager, and whether made in wine or not, was desirous of abiding by it. and this was further confirmed by my receiving soon after from you _l_, on another bet won by me. "having, i think, put this point very fairly, i again repeat that my only motive for alluding to the matter was, as some explanation of my seeming dilatoriness, which certainly did in part arise from always conceiving that, whenever i should state what was my real wish the day after the bet was made, you would be the more disposed to allow a little time;--the same statement admitting, as it must, the bet to be as clearly and as fairly won as possible; in short, as if i had insisted on it myself the next morning. "i have said more perhaps on the subject than can be necessary; but i should regret to appear negligent to an application for a just claim. "i have the honor to be, "sir, "your obedient servant, "_hertford st. feb. ._ "r. b. sheridan." of the public transactions of sheridan at this time, his speeches are the best record. to them, therefore, i shall henceforward principally refer my readers,--premising, that though the reports of his latter speeches are somewhat better, in general, than those of his earlier displays, they still do great injustice to his powers, and exhibit little more than the mere _torso_ of his eloquence, curtailed of all those accessories that lent motion and beauty to its form. the attempts to give the terseness of his wit particularly fail, and are a strong illustration of what he himself once said to lord * *. that nobleman, who among his many excellent qualities does not include a very lively sense of humor, having exclaimed, upon hearing some good anecdote from sheridan, "i'll go and tell that to our friend * *." sheridan called him back instantly and said, with much gravity, "for god's sake, don't, my dear * *: a joke is no laughing matter in your mouth." it is, indeed, singular, that all the eminent english orators--with the exception of mr. burke and mr. windham--should have been so little anxious for the correct transmission of their eloquence to posterity. had not cicero taken more care of even his extemporaneous effusions, we should have lost that masterly burst of the moment, to which the clemency of caesar towards marcellus gave birth. the beautiful fragments we have of lord chatham are rather traditional than recorded;--there are but two, i believe, of the speeches of mr. pitt corrected by himself, those on the budget of , and on the union with ireland;--mr. fox committed to writing but one of his, namely, the tribute to the memory of the duke of bedford;--and the only speech of mr. sheridan, that is known with certainty to have passed under his own revision, was that which he made at the opening of the following session, ( ,) in answer to lord mornington. in the course of the present year he took frequent opportunities of expressing his disgust at that spirit of ferocity which had so deeply disgraced the cause of the revolution. so earnest was his interest in the fate of the royal family of france, that, as appears from one of his speeches, he drew up a paper on the subject, and transmitted it to the republican rulers;--with the view, no doubt, of conveying to them the feelings of the english opposition, and endeavoring to avert, by the influence of his own name and that of mr. fox, the catastrophe that awaited those royal victims of liberty. of this interesting document i cannot discover any traces. in one of his answers to burke on the subject of the french revolution, adverting to the charge of deism and atheism brought against the republicans, he says, "as an argument to the feelings and passions of men, the honorable member had great advantages in dwelling on this topic; because it was a subject which those who disliked everything that had the air of cant and profession on the one hand, or of indifference on the other, found it awkward to meddle with. establishments, tests, and matters of that nature, were proper objects of political discussion in that house, but not general charges of atheism and deism, as pressed upon their consideration by the honorable gentleman. thus far, however, he would say, and it was an opinion he had never changed or concealed, that, although no man can command his conviction, he had ever considered a deliberate disposition to make proselytes in infidelity as an unaccountable depravity. whoever attempted to pluck the belief or the prejudice on this subject, style it which he would, from the bosom of one man, woman, or child, committed a brutal outrage, the motive for which he had never been able to trace or conceive." i quote these words as creditable to the feeling and good sense of sheridan. whatever may be thought of particular faiths and sects, a belief in a life beyond this world is the only thing that pierces through the walls of our prison-house, and lets hope shine in upon a scene, that would be otherwise bewildered and desolate. the proselytism of the atheist is, indeed, a dismal mission. that believers, who have each the same heaven in prospect, should invite us to join them on their respective ways to it, is at least a benevolent officiousness,--but that he, who has no prospect or hope himself, should seek for companionship in his road to annihilation, can only be explained by that tendency in human creatures to count upon each other in their despair, as well as their hope. in the speech upon his own motion relative to the existence of seditious practices in the country, there is some lively ridicule, upon the panic then prevalent. for instance:-- "the alarm had been brought forward in great pomp and form on saturday morning. at night all the mail-coaches were stopped; the duke of richmond stationed himself, among other curiosities, at the tower; a great municipal officer, too, had made a discovery exceedingly beneficial to the people of this country. he meant the lord mayor of london, who had found out that there was at the king's arms at cornhill a debating society, where principles of the most dangerous tendency were propagated; where people went to buy treason at sixpence a head; where it was retailed to them by the glimmering of an inch of candle; and five minutes, to be measured by the glass, were allowed to each traitor to perform his part in overturning the state." it was in the same speech that he gave the well-known and happy turn to the motto of the sun newspaper, which was at that time known to be the organ of the alarmists. "there was one paper," he remarked, "in particular, said to be the property of members of that house, and published and conducted under their immediate direction, which had for its motto a garbled part of a beautiful sentence, when it might, with much more propriety, have assumed the whole-- "solem quis dicere falsum audeat? ille etiam cacos instare tumultus saepe monet, fraudemque et operta tumescere bella." among the subjects that occupied the greatest share of his attention during this session, was the memorial of lord auckland to the states-general,--which document he himself brought under the notice of parliament as deserving of severe reprobation for the violent and vindictive tone which it assumed towards the commissioners of the national convention. it was upon one of the discussions connected with this subject that a dispute, as to the correct translation of the word "_malheureux_" was maintained with much earnestness between him and lord melville--two persons, the least qualified, perhaps, of any in the house, to volunteer as either interpreters or pronouncers of the french language. according to sheridan, "_ces malheureux_" was to be translated "these wretches," while lord melville contended, to the no small amusement of the house, that "_mollyroo_" (as he pronounced it,) meant no more than "these unfortunate gentlemen." in the november of this year mr. sheridan lost by a kind of death which must have deepened the feeling of the loss, the most intimate of all his companions, tickell. if congeniality of dispositions and pursuits were always a strengthener of affection, the friendship between tickell and sheridan ought to have been of the most cordial kind; for they resembled each other in almost every particular--in their wit, their wants, their talent, and their thoughtlessness. it is but too true, however, that friendship in general gains far less by such a community of pursuit than it loses by the competition that naturally springs out of it; and that two wits or two beauties form the last sort of alliance, in which we ought to look for specimens of sincere and cordial friendship. the intercourse between tickell and sheridan was not free from such collisions of vanity. they seem to have lived, indeed, in a state of alternate repulsion and attraction; and, unable to do without the excitement of each other's vivacity, seldom parted without trials of temper as well as of wit. being both, too, observers of character, and each finding in the other rich materials for observation, their love of ridicule could not withstand such a temptation, and they freely criticised each other to common friends, who, as is usually the case, agreed with both. still, however, there was a whim and sprightliness even about their mischief, which made it seem rather an exercise of ingenuity than an indulgence of ill nature; and if they had not carried on this intellectual warfare, neither would have liked the other half so well. the two principal productions of tickell, the "wreath of fashion" and "anticipation," were both upon temporary subjects, and have accordingly passed into oblivion. there are, however, some graceful touches of pleasantry in the poem; and the pamphlet, (which procured for him not only fame but a place in the stamp-office,) contains passages of which the application and the humor have not yet grown stale. as sheridan is the hero of the wreath of fashion, it is but right to quote the verses that relate to him; and i do it with the more pleasure, because they also contain a well-merited tribute to mrs. sheridan. after a description of the various poets of the day that deposit their offerings in lady millar's "vase of sentiment," the author thus proceeds:-- "at fashion's shrine behold a gentler bard gaze on the mystic vase with fond regard-- but see, thalia checks the doubtful thought, 'canst thou, (she cries,) with sense, with genius fraught, canst thou to fashion's tyranny submit, secure in native, independent wit? or yield to sentiment's insipid rule, by taste, by fancy, chac'd through scandal's school? ah no--be sheridan's the comic page, or let me fly with garrick from the stage. haste then, my friend, (for let me boast that name,) haste to the opening path of genuine fame; or, if thy muse a gentler theme pursue, ah, 'tis to love and thy eliza due! for, sure, the sweetest lay she well may claim, whose soul breathes harmony o'er all her frame; while wedded love, with ray serenely clear, beams from her eye, as from its proper sphere." in the year , tickell brought out at drury-lane an opera called "the carnival of venice," on which there is the following remark in mrs. crouch's memoirs:--"many songs in this piece so perfectly resemble in poetic beauty those which adorn the duenna, that they declare themselves to be the offspring of the same muse." i know not how far this conjecture may be founded, but there are four pretty lines which i remember in this opera, and which, it may be asserted without hesitation, sheridan never wrote. he had no feeling for natural scenery, [footnote: in corroboration of this remark, i have been allowed to quote the following passage of a letter written by a very eminent person, whose name all lovers of the picturesque associate with their best enjoyment of its beauties:-- "at one time i saw a good deal of sheridan--he and his first wife passed some time here, and he is an instance that a taste for poetry and for scenery are not always united. had this house been in the midst of hounslow heath, he could not have taken less interest in all around it: his delight was in shooting, all and every day, and my game-keeper said that of all the gentlemen he had ever been out with he never knew so bad a shot."] nor is there a trace of such a sentiment discoverable through his poetry. the following, as well as i can recollect, are the lines:-- "and while the moon shines on the stream, and as soft music breathes around, the feathering oar returns the gleam, and dips in concert to the sound." i have already given a humorous dedication of the rivals, written by tickell on the margin of a copy of that play in my possession. i shall now add another piece of still more happy humor, with which he has filled, in very neat hand-writing, the three or four first pages of the same copy. "the rivals, a comedy--one of the best in the english language--written as long ago as the reign of george the third. the author's name was sheridan--he is mentioned by the historians of that age as a man of uncommon abilities, very little improved by cultivation. his confidence in the resources of his own genius and his aversion to any sort of labor were so great that he could not be prevailed upon to learn either to read or write. he was, for a short time, manager of one the play-houses, and conceived the extraordinary and almost incredible project of composing a play extempore, which he was to recite in the green-room to the actors, who were immediately to come on the stage and perform it. the players refusing to undertake their parts at so short a notice, and with so little preparation, he threw up the management in disgust. "he was a member of the last parliaments that were summoned in england, and signalized himself on many occasions by his wit and eloquence, though he seldom came to the house till the debate was nearly concluded, and never spoke, unless he was drunk. he lived on a footing of great intimacy with the famous fox, who is said to have concerted with him the audacious attempt which he made, about the year , to seize the whole property of the east india company, amounting at that time to above , , _l_. sterling, and then to declare himself lord protector of the realm by the title of carlo khan. this desperate scheme actually received the consent of the lower house of parliament, the majority of whom were bribed by fox, or intimidated by his and sheridan's threats and violence: and it is generally believed that the revolution would have taken place, if the lords of the king's bedchamber had not in a body surrounded the throne and shown the most determined resolution not to abandon their posts but with their lives. the usurpation being defeated, parliament was dissolved and loaded with infamy. sheridan was one of the few members of it who were re-elected:--the burgesses of stafford, whom he had kept in a constant state of intoxication for near three weeks, chose him again to represent them, which he was well qualified to do. "fox's whig party being very much reduced, or rather almost annihilated, he and the rest of the conspirators remained quiet for some time; till, in the year , the french, in conjunction with tippoo sultan, having suddenly seized and divided between themselves the whole of the british possessions in india, the east india company broke, and a national bankruptcy was apprehended. during this confusion fox and his partisans assembled in large bodies, and made a violent attack in parliament on pitt, the king's first minister:--sheridan supported and seconded him. parliament seemed disposed to inquire into the cause of the calamity: the nation was almost in a state of actual rebellion; and it is impossible for us, at the distance of three hundred years, to form any judgment what dreadful consequences might have followed, if the king, by the advice of the lords of the bedchamber, had not dissolved the parliament, and taken the administration of affairs into his own hands, and those of a few confidential servants, at the head of whom he was pleased to place one mr. atkinson, a merchant, who had acquired a handsome fortune in the jamaica trade, and passed universally for a man of unblemished integrity. his majesty having now no farther occasion for pitt, and being desirous of rewarding him for his past services, and, at the same time, finding an adequate employment for his great talents, caused him to enter into holy orders, and presented him with the deanery of windsor; where he became an excellent preacher, and published several volumes of sermons, all of which are now lost. "to return to sheridan:--on the abrogation of parliaments, he entered into a closer connection than ever with fox and a few others of lesser note, forming together as desperate and profligate a gang as ever disgraced a civilized country. they were guilty of every species of enormity, and went so far as even to commit robberies on the highway, with a degree of audacity that could be equalled only by the ingenuity with which they escaped conviction. sheridan, not satisfied with eluding, determined to mock the justice of his country, and composed a masque called 'the foresters,' containing a circumstantial account of some of the robberies he had committed, and a good deal of sarcasm on the pusillanimity of those whom he had robbed, and the inefficacy of the penal laws of the kingdom. this piece was acted at drury-lane theatre with great applause, to the astonishment of all sober persons, and the scandal of the nation. his majesty, who had long wished to curb the licentiousness of the press and the theatres, thought this a good opportunity. he ordered the performers to be enlisted into the army, the play-house to be shut up, and all theatrical exhibitions to be forbid on pain of death, drury-lane play-house was soon after converted into a barrack for soldiers, which it has continued to be ever since. sheridan was arrested, and, it was imagined, would have suffered the rack, if he had not escaped from his guard by a stratagem, and gone over to ireland in a balloon with which his friend fox furnished him. immediately on his arrival in ireland, he put himself at the head of a party of the most violent reformers, commanded a regiment of volunteers at the siege of dublin in , and was supposed to be the person who planned the scheme for tarring and feathering mr. jenkinson, the lord lieutenant, and forcing him in that condition to sign the capitulation of the castle. the persons who were to execute this strange enterprise had actually got into the lord lieutenant's apartment at midnight, and would probably have succeeded in their project, if sheridan, who was intoxicated with whiskey, a strong liquor much in vogue with the volunteers, had not attempted to force open the door of mrs. ----'s bed-chamber, and so given the alarm to the garrison, who instantly flew to arms, seized sheridan and every one of his party, and confined them in the castle-dungeon. sheridan was ordered for execution the next day, but had no sooner got his legs and arms at liberty, than he began capering, jumping, dancing, and making all sorts of antics, to the utter amazement of the spectators. when the chaplain endeavored, by serious advice and admonition, to bring him to a proper sense of his dreadful situation, he grinned, made faces at him, tried to tickle him, and played a thousand other pranks with such astonishing drollery, that the gravest countenances became cheerful, and the saddest hearts glad. the soldiers who attended at the gallows were so delighted with his merriment, which they deemed magnanimity, that the sheriffs began to apprehend a rescue, and ordered the hangman instantly to do his duty. he went off in a loud horse-laugh, and cast a look towards the castle, accompanied with a gesture expressive of no great respect. "thus ended the life of this singular and unhappy man--a melancholy instance of the calamities that attend the misapplication of great and splendid ability. he was married to a very beautiful and amiable woman, for whom he is said to have entertained an unalterable affection. he had one son, a boy of the most promising hopes, whom he would never suffer to be instructed in the first rudiments of literature. he amused himself, however, with teaching the boy to draw portraits with his toes, in which he soon became so astonishing a proficient that he seldom failed to take a most exact likeness of every person who sat to him. "there are a few more plays by the same author, all of them excellent. "for further information concerning this strange man, vide 'macpherson's moral history,' art. '_drunkenness_.'" chapter vii. speech in answer to lord mornington.--coalition of the whig seceders with mr. pitt.--mr. canning.--evidence on the trial of horne tooke.--the "glorious first of june."--marriage of mr. sheridan.--pamphlet of mr. reeves.--debts of the prince of wales.--shakspeare manuscripts.--trial of stone.--mutiny at the nore.--secession of mr. fox from parliament. in the year , the natural consequences of the policy pursued by mr. pitt began rapidly to unfold themselves both at home and abroad. [footnote: see, for a masterly exposure of the errors of the war, the speech of lord lansdowne this year on bringing forward his motion for peace. i cannot let the name of this nobleman pass, without briefly expressing the deep gratitude which i feel to him, not only for his own kindness to me, when introduced, as a boy, to his notice, but for the friendship of his truly noble descendant, which i, in a great degree, owe to him, and which has long been the pride and happiness of my life.] the confederated princes of the continent, among whom the gold of england was now the sole bond of union, had succeeded as might be expected from so noble an incentive, and, powerful only in provoking france, had by every step they took but ministered to her aggrandizement. in the mean time, the measures of the english minister at home were directed to the two great objects of his legislation--the raising of supplies and the suppressing of sedition; or, in other words, to the double and anomalous task of making the people pay for the failures of their royal allies, and suffer for their sympathy with the success of their republican enemies. it is the opinion of a learned jesuit that it was by _aqua regia_ the golden calf of the israelites was dissolved--and the cause of kings was the royal solvent, in which the wealth of great britain now melted irrecoverably away. while the successes, too, of the french had already lowered the tone of the minister from projects of aggression to precautions of defence, the wounds which in the wantonness of alarm, he had inflicted on the liberties of the country, were spreading an inflammation around them that threatened real danger. the severity of the sentence upon muir and palmer in scotland, and the daring confidence with which charges of high treason were exhibited against persons who were, at the worst, but indiscreet reformers, excited the apprehensions of even the least sensitive friends of freedom. it is, indeed, difficult to say how far the excited temper of the government, seconded by the ever ready subservience of state-lawyers and bishops, might have proceeded at this moment, had not the acquittal of tooke and his associates, and the triumph it diffused through the country, given a lesson to power such as england is alone capable of giving, and which will long be remembered, to the honor of that great political safeguard,--that life-preserver in stormy times,--the trial by jury. at the opening of the session, mr. sheridan delivered his admirable answer to lord mornington, the report of which, as i have already said, was corrected for publication by himself. in this fine speech, of which the greater part must have been unprepared, there is a natural earnestness of feeling and argument that is well contrasted with the able but artificial harangue that preceded it. in referring to the details which lord mornington had entered into of the various atrocities committed in france, he says:-- "but what was the sum of all that he had told the house? that great and dreadful enormities had been committed, at which the heart shuddered, and which not merely wounded every feeling of humanity, but disgusted and sickened the soul. all this was most true; but what did all this prove? what, but that eternal and unalterable truth which had always presented itself to his mind, in whatever way he had viewed the subject, namely, that a long established despotism so far degraded and debased human nature, as to render its subjects, on the first recovery of their rights, unfit for the exercise of them. but never had he, or would he meet but with re probation that mode of argument which went, in fact, to establish, as an inference from this truth, that those who had been long slaves, ought therefore to remain so for over! no; the lesson ought to be, he would again repeat, a tenfold horror of that despotic form of government, which had so profaned and changed the nature of civilized man, and a still more jealous apprehension of any system tending to withhold the rights and liberties of our fellow-creatures. such a form of government might be considered as twice cursed; while it existed, it was solely responsible for the miseries and calamities of its subjects; and should a day of retribution come, and the tyranny be destroyed, it was equally to be charged with all the enormities which the folly or frenzy of those who overturned it should commit. "but the madness of the french people was not confined to their proceedings within their own country; we, and all the powers of europe, had to dread it. true; but was not this also to be accounted for? wild and unsettled as their state of mind was, necessarily, upon the events which had thrown such power so suddenly into their hands, the surrounding states had goaded them into a still more savage state of madness, fury, and desperation. we had unsettled their reason, and then reviled their insanity; we drove them to the extremities that produced the evils we arraigned; we baited them like wild beasts, until at length we made them so. the conspiracy of pilnitz, and the brutal threats of the royal abettors of that plot against the rights of nations and of men, had, in truth, to answer for all the additional misery, horrors, and iniquity, which had since disgraced and incensed humanity. such has been your conduct towards france, that you have created the passions which you persecute; you mark a nation to be cut off from the world; you covenant for their extermination; you swear to hunt them in their inmost recesses; you load them with every species of execration; and you now come forth with whining declamations on the horror of their turning upon you with the fury which you inspired." having alluded to an assertion of condorcet, quoted by lord mornington, that "revolutions are always the work of the minority," he adds livelily:-- "--if this be true, it certainly is a most ominous thing for the enemies of reform in england; for, if it holds true, of necessity, that the minority still prevails, in national contests, it must be a consequence that the smaller the minority the more certain must be the success. in what a dreadful situation then must the noble lord be and all the alarmists!--for, never surely was a minority so small, so thin in number as the present. conscions, however, that m. condorcet was mistaken in our object, i am glad to find that we are terrible in proportion as we are few; i rejoice that the liberality of secession which has thinned our ranks has only served to make us more formidable. the alarmists will hear this with new apprehensions; they will no doubt return to us with a view to diminish our force, and encumber us with their alliance in order to reduce us to insignificance." we have here another instance, in addition to the many that have been given, of the beauties that sprung up under sheridan's correcting hand. this last pointed sentence was originally thus: "and we shall swell our numbers in order to come nearer in a balance of insignificance to the numerous host of the majority." it was at this time evident that the great whig seceders would soon yield to the invitations of mr. pitt and the vehement persuasions of burke, and commit themselves still further with the administration by accepting of office. though the final arrangements to this effect were not completed till the summer, on account of the lingering reluctance of the duke of portland and mr. windham, lord loughborough and others of the former opposition had already put on the official livery of the minister. it is to be regretted that, in almost all cases of conversion to the side of power, the coincidence of some worldly advantage with the change should make it difficult to decide upon the sincerity or disinterestedness of the convert. that these noble whigs were sincere in their alarm there is no reason to doubt; but the lesson of loyalty they have transmitted would have been far more edifying, had the usual corollary of honors and emoluments not followed, and had they left at least one instance of political conversion on record, where the truth was its own sole reward, and the proselyte did not subside into the placeman. mr. sheridan was naturally indignant at these desertions, and his bitterness overflows in many passages of the speech before us. lord mornington having contrasted the privations and sacrifices demanded of the french by their minister of finance with those required of the english nation, he says in answer:-- "the noble lord need not remind us, that there is no great danger of our chancellor of the exchequer making any such experiment. i can more easily fancy another sort of speech for our prudent minister. i can more easily conceive him modestly comparing himself and his own measures with the character and conduct of his rival, and saying,--'do i demand of you, wealthy citizens, to lend your hoards to government without interest? on the contrary, when i shall come to propose a loan, there is not a man of you to whom i shall not hold out at least a job in every part of the subscription, and an usurious profit upon every pound you devote to the necessities of your country. do i demand of you, my fellow-placemen and brother-pensioners, that you should sacrifice any part of your stipends to the public exigency? on the contrary; am i not daily increasing your emoluments and your numbers in proportion as the country becomes unable to provide for you? do i require of you, my latest and most zealous proselytes, of you who have come over to me for the special purpose of supporting the war--a war, on the success of which you solemnly protest, that the salvation of britain, and of civil society itself, depend--do i require of you, that you should make a temporary sacrifice, in the cause of human nature, of the greater part of your private incomes? no, gentlemen, i scorn to take advantage of the eagerness of your zeal; and to prove that i think the sincerity of your attachment to me needs no such test, i will make your interest co-operate with your principle: i will quarter many of you on the public supply, instead of calling on you to contribute to it; and, while their whole thoughts are absorbed in patriotic apprehensions for their country, i will dexterously force upon others the favorite objects of the vanity or ambition of their lives. * * * * * "good god, sir, that he should have thought it prudent to have forced this contrast upon our attention; that he should triumphantly remind us of everything that shame should have withheld, and caution would have buried in oblivion! will those who stood forth with a parade of disinterested patriotism, and vaunted of the _sacrifices_ they had made, and the _exposed situation_ they had chosen, in order the better to oppose the friends of brissot in england--will they thank the noble lord for reminding us how soon these lofty professions dwindled into little jobbing pursuits for followers and dependents, as unfit to fill the offices procured for them, as the offices themselves were unfit to be created?--will the train of newly titled alarmists, of supernumerary negotiators, of pensioned paymasters, agents and commissaries, thank him for remarking to us how profitable their panic has been to themselves, and how expensive to their country? what a contrast, indeed, do we exhibit!--what! in such an hour as this, at a moment pregnant with the national fate, when, pressing as the exigency may be, the hard task of squeezing the money from the pockets of an impoverished people, from the toil, the drudgery of the shivering poor, must make the most practised collector's heart ache while he tears it from them--can it be that people of high rank, and professing high principles, that _they_ or _their families_ should seek to thrive on the spoils of misery and fatten on the meals wrested from industrious poverty? can it be that that should be the case with the very persons, who state the _unprecedented peril of the country_ as the _sole_ cause of their being found in the ministerial ranks? the constitution is in danger, religion is in danger, the very existence of the nation itself is endangered; all personal and party considerations ought to vanish; the war must be supported by every possible exertion, and by every possible sacrifice; the people must not murmur at their burdens, it is for their salvation, their all is at stake. the time is come, when all honest and disinterested men should rally round the throne as round a standard;--for what? ye honest and disinterested men, to receive, for your own private emolument, a portion of those very taxes wrung from the people on the pretence of saving them from the poverty and distress which you say the enemy would inflict, but which you take care no enemy shall be able to aggravate. oh! shame! shame! is this a time for selfish intrigues, and the little dirty traffic for lucre and emolument? does it suit the honor of a gentleman to ask at such a moment? does it become the honesty of a minister to grant? is it intended to confirm the pernicious doctrine, so industriously propagated by many, that all public men are impostors, and that every politician has his price? or even where there is no principle in the bosom, why does not prudence hint to the mercenary and the vain to abstain a while at least, and wait the fitting of the times? improvident impatience! nay, even from those who seem to have no direct object of office or profit, what is the language which their actions speak? the throne is in danger!--'we will support the throne; but let us share the smiles of royalty;'--the order of nobility is in danger!--'i will fight for nobility,' says the viscount, 'but my zeal would be much greater if i were made an earl.' 'rouse all the marquis within me,' exclaims the earl, 'and the peerage never turned forth a more undaunted champion in its cause than i shall prove.' 'stain my green riband blue,' cries out the illustrious knight, 'and the fountain of honor will have a fast and faithful servant.' what are the people to think of our sincerity?--what credit are they to give to our professions?--is this system to be persevered in? is there nothing that whispers to that right honorable gentleman that the crisis is too big, that the times are too gigantic, to be ruled by the little hackneyed and every-day means of ordinary corruption?" the discussions, indeed, during the whole of this session, were marked by a degree of personal acrimony, which in the present more sensitive times would hardly be borne. mr. pitt and mr. sheridan came, most of all, into collision; and the retorts of the minister not unfrequently proved with what weight the haughty sarcasms of power may descend even upon the tempered buckler of wit. it was in this session, and on the question of the treaty with the king of sardinia, that mr. canning made his first appearance, as an orator, in the house. he brought with him a fame, already full of promise, and has been one of the brightest ornaments of the senate and the country ever since. from the political faith in which he had been educated, under the very eyes of mr. sheridan, who had long been the friend of his family, and at whose house he generally passed his college vacations, the line that he was to take in the house of commons seemed already, according to the usual course of events, marked out for him. mr. sheridan had, indeed, with an eagerness which, however premature, showed the value which he and others set upon the alliance, taken occasion in the course of a laudatory tribute to mr. jenkinson, [footnote: now lord liverpool] on the success of his first effort in the house, to announce the accession which his own party was about to receive, in the talents of another gentleman,--the companion and friend of the young orator who had now distinguished himself. whether this and other friendships, formed by mr. canning at the university, had any share in alienating him from a political creed, which he had hitherto, perhaps, adopted rather from habit and authority than choice--or, whether he was startled at the idea of appearing for the first time in the world, as the announced pupil and friend of a person who, both by the vehemence of his politics and the irregularities of his life, had put himself, in some degree, under the ban of public opinion--or whether, lastly, he saw the difficulties which even genius like his would experience, in rising to the full growth of its ambition, under the shadowing branches of the whig aristocracy, and that superseding influence of birth and connections, which had contributed to keep even such men as burke and sheridan out of the cabinet--_which_ of these motives it was that now decided the choice of the young political hercules, between the two paths that equally wooed his footsteps, none, perhaps, but himself can fully determine. his decision, we know, was in favor of the minister and toryism; and, after a friendly and candid explanation to sheridan of the reasons and feelings that urged him to this step, he entered into terms with mr. pitt, and was by him immediately brought into parliament. however dangerous it might be to exalt such an example into a precedent, it is questionable whether, in thus resolving to join the ascendant side, mr. canning has not conferred a greater benefit on the country than he ever would have been able to effect in the ranks of his original friends. that party, which has now so long been the sole depository of the power of the state, had, in addition to the original narrowness of its principles, contracted all that proud obstinacy, in antiquated error, which is the invariable characteristic of such monopolies; and which, however consonant with its vocation, as the chosen instrument of the crown, should have long since _invalided_ it in the service of a free and enlightened people. some infusion of the spirit of the times into this body had become necessary, even for its own preservation,--in the same manner as the inhalement of youthful breath has been recommended, by some physicians, to the infirm and superannuated. this renovating inspiration the genius of mr. canning has supplied. his first political lessons were derived from sources too sacred to his young admiration to be forgotten. he has carried the spirit of these lessons with him into the councils which he joined, and by the vigor of the graft, which already, indeed, shows itself in the fruits, bids fair to change altogether the nature of toryism. among the eminent persons summoned as witnesses on the trial of horne tooke, which took place in november of this year, was mr. sheridan; and, as his evidence contains some curious particulars, both with regard to himself and the state of political feeling in the year , i shall here transcribe a part of it:-- "he, (mr. sheridan,) said he recollects a meeting to celebrate the establishment of liberty in france in the year . upon that occasion he moved a resolution drawn up the day before by the whig club. mr. horne tooke, he says, made no objection to his motion, but proposed an amendment. mr. tooke stated that an unqualified approbation of the french revolution, in the terms moved, might produce an ill effect out of doors, a disposition to a revolution in this country, or, at least, be misrepresented to have that object; he adverted to the circumstance of their having all of them national cockades in their hats; he proposed to add some qualifying expression to the approbation of the french revolution, a declaration of attachment to the principles of our own constitution; he said mr. tooke spoke in a figurative manner of the former government of france; he described it as a vessel so foul and decayed, that no repair could save it from destruction, that in contrasting our state with that, he said, thank god, the main timbers of our constitution are sound; he had before observed, however, that some reforms might be necessary; he said that sentiment was received with great disapprobation, and with very rude interruption, insomuch that lord stanhope, who was in the chair, interfered; he said it had happened to him, in many public meetings, to differ with and oppose the prisoner, and that he has frequently seen him received with very considerable marks of disapprobation, but he never saw them affect him much; he said that he himself objected to mr. tooke's amendment; he thinks he withdrew his amendment, and moved it as a separate motion; he said it was then carried as unanimously as his own motion had been; that original motion and separate motion are in these words:--'that this meeting does most cordially rejoice in the establishment and confirmation of liberty in france; and it beholds with peculiar satisfaction the sentiments of amity and good will which appear to pervade the people of that country towards this kingdom, especially at a time when it is the manifest interest of both states that nothing should interrupt the harmony which at present subsists between them, and which is so essentially necessary to the freedom and happiness, not only of the french nation, but of all mankind.' "mr. tooke wished to add to his motion some qualifying clause, to guard against misunderstanding and misrepresentation:--that there was a wide difference between england and france; that in france the vessel was so foul and decayed, that no repair could save it from destruction, whereas, in england, we had a noble and stately vessel, sailing proudly on the bosom of the ocean; that her main timbers were sound, though it was true, after so long a course of years, she might want some repairs. mr. tooke's motion was,--'that we feel equal satisfaction that the subjects of england, by the virtuous exertions of their ancestors, have not so arduous a task to perform as the french have had, but have only to maintain and improve the constitution which their ancestors have transmitted to them.'--this was carried unanimously." the trial of warren hastings still "dragged its slow length along," and in the may of this year mr. sheridan was called upon for his reply on the begum charge. it was usual, on these occasions, for the manager who spoke to be assisted by one of his brother managers, whose task it was to carry the bag that contained his papers, and to read out whatever minutes might be referred to in the course of the argument. mr. michael angelo taylor was the person who undertook this office for sheridan; but, on the morning of the speech, upon his asking for the bag that he was to carry, he was told by sheridan that there was none--neither bag nor papers. they must manage, he said, as well as they could without them;--and when the papers were called for, his friend must only put the best countenance he could upon it. as for himself "he would abuse ned law--ridicule plumer's long orations--make the court laugh--please the women, and, in short, with taylor's aid would get triumphantly through his task." his opening of the case was listened to with the profoundest attention; but when he came to contrast the evidence of the commons with that adduced by hastings, it was not long before the chancellor interrupted him, with a request that the printed minutes to which he referred should be read. sheridan answered that his friend mr. taylor would read them; and mr. taylor affected to send for the bag, while the orator begged leave, in the meantime, to proceed. again, however, his statements rendered a reference to the minutes necessary, and again he was interrupted by the chancellor, while an outcry after mr. sheridan's bag was raised in all directions. at first the blame was laid on the solicitor's clerk--then a messenger was dispatched to mr. sheridan's house. in the meantime, the orator was proceeding brilliantly and successfully in his argument; and, on some further interruption and expostulation from the chancellor, raised his voice and said, in a dignified tone, "on the part of the commons, and as a manager of this impeachment, i shall conduct my case as i think proper. i mean to be correct, and your lordships, having the printed minutes before you, will afterwards see whether i am right or wrong." during the bustle produced by the inquiries after the bag, mr. fox, alarmed at the inconvenience which, he feared, the want of it might occasion sheridan, ran up from the managers' room, and demanded eagerly the cause of this mistake from mr. taylor; who, hiding his mouth with his hand, whispered him, (in a tone of which they alone, who have heard this gentleman relate the anecdote, can feel the full humor,) "the man has no bag!" the whole of this characteristic contrivance was evidently intended by sheridan to raise that sort of surprise at the readiness of his resources, which it was the favorite triumph of his vanity to create. i have it on the authority of mr. william smythe, that, previously to the delivery of this speech, he passed two or three days alone at wanstead, so occupied from morning till night in writing and reading of papers, as to complain in the evenings that he "had motes before his eyes." this mixture of real labor with apparent carelessness was, indeed, one of the most curious features of his life and character. together with the political contests of this stormy year, he had also on his mind the cares of his new theatre, which opened on the st of april, with a prologue, not by himself, as might have been expected, but by his friend general fitzpatrick. he found time, however, to assist in the rapid manufacture of a little piece called "the glorious first of june," which was acted immediately after lord howe's victory, and of which i have found some sketches [footnote: one of these is as follows:-- "scene i.--miss _leake_--miss _decamp--walsh_. "short dialogue--nancy persuading susan to go to the fair, where there is an entertainment to be given by the lord of the manor--susan melancholy because henry, her lover, is at sea with the british admiral--_song_ --her old mother scolds from the cottage--her little brother (_walsh_) comes from the house, with a message--laughs at his sister's fears and sings--_trio_. "scene ii.--_the fair_ "puppet show--dancing bear--bells--hurdy-gurdy--recruiting party--song and chorus. "_ballet_--d'egville. "susan says she has no pleasure, and will go and take a solitary walk. "scene iii.--_dark wood._ "susan--gipsy--tells her fortune--recitative and ditty. "scene iv. "sea-fight--hell and the devil! "henry and susan meet--chorus introducing burden, "rule britannia." among other occasional trifles of this kind, to which sheridan condescended for the advantage of the theatre, was the pantomime of robinson crusoe, brought out, i believe, in , of which he is understood to have been the author. there was a practical joke in this pantomime, (where, in pulling off a man's boot, the leg was pulled off with it,) which the famous delpini laid claim to as his own, and publicly complained of sheridan's having stolen it from him. the punsters of the day said it was claimed as literary property--being "in usum _delpini_." another of these inglorious tasks of the author of the school for scandal, was the furnishing of the first outline or _programme_ of "the forty thieves." his brother in law, ward, supplied the dialogue, and mr. colman was employed to season it with an infusion of jokes. the following is sheridan's sketch of one of the scenes-- "ali baba. "bannister called out of the cavern boldly by his son--comes out and falls on the ground a long time, not knowing him--says he would only have taken a little gold to keep off misery and save his son, &c. "afterwards, when he loads his asses, his son reminds him to be moderate--but it was a promise made to thieves--'it gets nearer the owner, if taken from the stealer'--the son disputes this morality--'they stole it, _ergo_, they have no right to it; and we steal it from the stealer, _ergo_, our title is twice as bad as theirs.'"] in sheridan's hand-writing,--though the dialogue was, no doubt, supplied (as mr. boaden says,) "by cobb, or some other such _pedissequus_ of the dramatic muse. this piece was written, rehearsed, and acted within three days. the first operation of mr. sheridan towards it was to order the mechanist of the theatre to get ready two fleets. it was in vain that objections were started to the possibility of equipping these pasteboard armaments in so short an interval--lord chatham's famous order to lord anson was not more peremptory. [footnote: for the expedition to the coast of france, after the convention of closter seven. when he ordered the fleet to be equipped, and appointed the time and place of its rendezvous, lord anson said it would be impossible to have it prepared so soon. "it may," said mr. pitt, "be done, and if the ships are not ready at the time specified, i shall signify your lordship's neglect to the king, and impeach you in the house of commons." this intimation produced the desired effect--the ships were ready. see anecdotes of lord chatham, vol. i] the two fleets were accordingly ready at the time, and the duke of clarence attended the rehearsal of their evolutions. this mixture of the cares of the statesman and the manager is one of those whimsical peculiarities that made sheridan's own life so dramatic, and formed a compound altogether too singular ever to occur again. in the spring of the following year, ( ,) we find mr. sheridan paying that sort of tribute to the happiness of a first marriage which is implied by the step of entering into a second. the lady to whom he now united himself was miss esther jane ogle, daughter of the dean of winchester, and grand-daughter, by the mother's side, of the former bishop of winchester. we have here another proof of the ready mine of wealth which the theatre opened,--as in gratitude it ought,--to him who had endowed, it with such imperishable treasures. the fortune of the lady being five thousand pounds, he added to it fifteen thousand more, which he contrived to raise by the sale of drury-lane shares; and the whole of the sum was subsequently laid out in the purchase from sir w. geary of the estate of polesden, in surrey, near leatherhead. the trustees of this settlement were mr. grey, (now lord grey,) and mr. whitbread. to a man at the time of life which sheridan had now attained--four years beyond that period, at which petrarch thought it decorous to leave off writing love-verses [footnote: see his epistle, "ad posteritatem," where, after lamenting the many years which he had devoted to love, he adds: "mox vero ad _quadragesimum annum_ appropinquans, dum adhuc et caloris satis esset," &c.]--a union with a young and accomplished girl, ardently devoted to him, must have been like a renewal of his own youth; and it is, indeed, said by those who were in habits of intimacy with him at this period, that they had seldom seen his spirits in a state of more buoyant vivacity. he passed much of his time at the house of his father-in-law near southampton;--and in sailing about with his lively bride on the southampton river, (in a small cutter called the phaedria, after the magic boat in the "fairy queen,") forgot for a while his debts, his theatre, and his politics. it was on one of these occasions that my friend mr. bowles, who was a frequent companion of his parties, [footnote: among other distinguished persons present at these excursions were mr. joseph richardson, dr. howley, now bishop of london, and mrs. wilmot, now lady dacre, a lady, whose various talents,--not the less delightful for being so feminine,--like the group of the graces, reflect beauty on each other.] wrote the following verses, which were much admired, as they well deserved to be, by sheridan, for the sweetness of their thoughts, and the perfect music of their rhythm:-- "smooth went our boat upon the summer seas, leaving, (for so it seem'd.) the world behind, its cares, its sounds, its shadows: we reclin'd upon the sunny deck, heard but the breeze that o'er us whispering pass'd or idly play'd with the lithe flag aloft.--a woodland scene on either side drew its slope line of green, and hung the water's shining edge with shade. above the woods, netley! thy ruins pale peer'd, as we pass'd; and vecta's [ ] azure hue beyond the misty castle [ ] met the view; where in mid channel hung the scarce-seen sail. so all was calm and sunshine as we went cheerily o'er the briny element. oh! were this little boat to us the world, as thus we wander'd far from sounds of care, circled with friends and gentle maidens fair, whilst morning airs the waving pendant curl'd, how sweet were life's long voyage, till in peace we gain'd that haven still, where all things cease!" [footnote : isle of wight] [footnote : kelshot castle] the events of this year but added fresh impetus to that reaction upon each other of the government and the people, which such a system of misrule is always sure to produce. among the worst effects, as i have already remarked, of the rigorous policy adopted by the minister, was the extremity to which it drove the principles and language of opposition, and that sanction which the vehement rebound against oppression of such influencing spirits as fox and sheridan seemed to hold out to the obscurer and more practical assertors of freedom. this was at no time more remarkable than in the present session, during the discussion of those arbitrary measures, the treason and sedition bills, when sparks were struck out, in the collision of the two principles, which the combustible state of public feeling at the moment rendered not a little perilous. on the motion that the house should resolve itself into a committee upon the treason bill, mr. fox said, that "if ministers were determined, by means of the corrupt influence they already possessed in the two houses of parliament, to pass these bills, in violent opposition to the declared sense of the great majority of the nation, and they should be put in force with all their rigorous provisions,--if his opinion were asked by the people as to their obedience, he should tell them, that it was no longer a question of moral obligation and duty, but of prudence." mr. sheridan followed in the bold footsteps of his friend, and said, that "if a degraded and oppressed majority of the people applied to him, he would advise them to acquiesce in those bills only as long as resistance was imprudent." this language was, of course, visited with the heavy reprobation of the ministry;--but their own partisans had already gone as great lengths on the side of absolute power, and it is the nature of such extremes to generate each other. bishop horsley had preached the doctrine of passive obedience in the house of lords, asserting that "man's abuse of his delegated authority is to be borne with resignation, like any other of god's judgments; and that the opposition of the individual to the sovereign power is an opposition to god's providential arrangements." the promotion of the right reverend prelate that followed, was not likely to abate his zeal in the cause of power; and, accordingly, we find him in the present session declaring, in his place in the house of lords, that "the people have nothing to do with the laws but to obey them." the government, too, had lately given countenance to writers, the absurd slavishness of whose doctrines would have sunk below contempt, but for such patronage. among the ablest of them was arthur young,--one of those renegades from the cause of freedom, who, like the incendiary that set fire to the temple with the flame he had stolen from its altar, turn the fame and the energies which they have acquired in _defence_ of liberty _against_ her. this gentleman, to whom his situation as secretary to the board of agriculture afforded facilities for the circulation of his political heresies, did not scruple, in one of his pamphlets, roundly to assert, that unequal representation, rotten boroughs, long parliaments, extravagant courts, selfish ministers, and corrupt majorities, are not only intimately interwoven with the practical freedom of england, but, in a great degree, the causes of it. but the most active and notorious of these patronized advocates of the court was mr. john reeves,--a person who, in his capacity of president of the association against republicans and levellers, had acted as a sort of sub-minister of alarm to mr. burke. in a pamphlet, entitled "thoughts on the english government," which mr. sheridan brought under the notice of the house, as a libel on the constitution, this pupil of the school of filmer advanced the startling doctrine that the lords and commons of england derive their existence and authority from the king, and that the kingly government could go on, in all its functions, without them. this pitiful paradox found an apologist in mr. windham, whose chivalry in the new cause he had espoused left mr. pitt himself at a wondering distance behind. his speeches in defence of reeves, (which are among the proofs that remain of that want of equipoise observable in his fine, rather than solid, understanding,) have been with a judicious charity towards his memory, omitted in the authentic collection by mr. amyot. when such libels against the constitution were not only promulgated, but acted upon, on one side, it was to be expected, and hardly, perhaps, to be regretted, that the repercussion should be heard loudly and warningly from the other. mr. fox, by a subsequent explanation, softened down all that was most menacing in his language; and, though the word "resistance," at full length, should, like the hand-writing on the wall, be reserved for the last intoxication of the belshazzars of this world, a letter or two of it may, now and then, glare out upon their eyes, without producing any thing worse than a salutary alarm amid their revels. at all events, the high and constitutional grounds on which mr. fox defended the expressions he had hazarded, may well reconcile us to any risk incurred by their utterance. the tribute to the house of russell, in the grand and simple passage beginning, "dear to this country are the descendants of the illustrious russell," is as applicable to that noble family now as it was then; and will continue to be so, i trust, as long as a single vestige of a race, so pledged to the cause of liberty, remains. in one of mr. sheridan's speeches on the subject of reeves's libel, there are some remarks on the character of the people of england, not only candid and just, but, as applied to them at that trying crisis, interesting:-- "never was there," he said, "any country in which there was so much absence of public principle, and at the same time so many instances of private worth. never was there so much charity and humanity towards the poor and the distressed; any act of cruelty or oppression never failed to excite a sentiment of general indignation against its authors. it was a circumstance peculiarly strange, that though luxury had arrived to such a pitch, it had so little effect in depraving the hearts and destroying the morals of people in private life; and almost every day produced some fresh example of generous feelings and noble exertions of benevolence. yet amidst these phenomena of private virtue, it was to be remarked, that there was an almost total want of public spirit, and a most deplorable contempt of public principle. * * * * * "when great britain fell, the case would not be with her as with rome in former times. when rome fell, she fell by the weight of her own vices. the inhabitants were so corrupted and degraded, as to be unworthy of a continuance of prosperity, and incapable to enjoy the blessings of liberty; their minds were bent to the state in which a reverse of fortune placed them. but when great britain falls, she will fall with a people full of private worth and virtue; she will be ruined by the profligacy of the governors, and the security of her inhabitants,--the consequence of those pernicious doctrines which have taught her to place a false confidence in her strength and freedom, and not to look with distrust and apprehension to the misconduct and corruption of those to whom she has trusted the management of her resources." to this might have been added, that when great britain falls, it will not be from either ignorance of her rights, or insensibility to their value, but from that want of energy to assert them which a high state of civilization produces. the love of ease that luxury brings along with it,--the selfish and compromising spirit, in which the members of a polished society countenance each other, and which reverses the principle of patriotism, by sacrificing public interests to private ones,--the substitution of intellectual for moral excitement, and the repression of enthusiasm by fastidiousness and ridicule,--these are among the causes that undermine a people,--that corrupt in the very act of enlightening them; till they become, what a french writer calls "_esprits exigeans et caracteres complaisans_," and the period in which their rights are best understood may be that in which they most easily surrender them. it is, indeed, with the advanced age of free states, as with that of individuals,--they improve in the theory of their existence as they grow unfit for the practice of it; till, at last, deceiving themselves with the semblance of rights gone by, and refining upon the forms of their institutions after they have lost the substance, they smoothly sink into slavery, with the lessons of liberty on their lips. besides the treason and sedition bills, the suspension of the habeas corpus act was another of the momentous questions which, in this as well as the preceding session, were chosen as points of assault by mr. sheridan, and contested with a vigor and reiteration of attack, which, though unavailing against the massy majorities of the minister, yet told upon public opinion so as to turn even defeats to account. the marriage of the prince of wales to the princess caroline of brunswick having taken place in the spring of this year, it was proposed by his majesty to parliament, not only to provide an establishment for their royal highnesses, but to decide on the best manner of liquidating the debts of the prince, which were calculated at , _l_. on the secession of the leading whigs, in , his royal highness had also separated himself from mr. fox, and held no further intercourse either with him or any of his party,--except, occasionally, mr. sheridan,--till so late, i believe, as the year . the effects of this estrangement are sufficiently observable in the tone of the opposition throughout the debates on the message of the king. mr. grey said, that he would not oppose the granting of an establishment to the prince equal to that of his ancestors; but neither would he consent to the payment of his debts by parliament. a refusal, he added, to liberate his royal highness from his embarrassments would certainly prove a mortification; but it would, at the same time, awaken a just sense of his imprudence. mr. fox asked, "was the prince well advised in applying to that house on the subject of his debts, after the promise made in ?"--and mr. sheridan, while he agreed with his friends that the application should not have been made to parliament, still gave it as his "positive opinion that the debts ought to be paid immediately, for the dignity of the country and the situation of the prince, who ought not to be seen rolling about the streets, in his state-coach, as an insolvent prodigal." with respect to the promise given in , and now violated, that the prince would not again apply to parliament for the payment of his debts, mr. sheridan, with a communicativeness that seemed hardly prudent, put the house in possession of some details of the transaction, which, as giving an insight into royal character, are worthy of being extracted. "in , a pledge was given to the house that no more debts should be contracted. by that pledge the prince was bound as much as if he had given it knowingly and voluntarily. to attempt any explanation of it now would be unworthy of his honor,--as if he had suffered it to be wrung from him, with a view of afterwards pleading that it was against his better judgment, in order to get rid of it. he then advised the prince not to make any such promise, because it was not to be expected that he could himself enforce the details of a system of economy; and, although he had men of honor and abilities about him, he was totally unprovided with men of business, adequate to such a task. the prince said he could not give such a pledge, and agree at the same time to take back his establishment. he (mr. sheridan) drew up a plan of retrenchment, which was approved of by the prince, and afterwards by his majesty; and the prince told him that the promise was not to be insisted upon. in the king's message, however, the promise was inserted,--by whose advice he knew not. he heard it read with surprise, and, on being asked next day by the prince to contradict it in his place, he inquired whether the prince had seen the message before it was brought down. being told that it had been read to him, but that he did not understand it as containing a promise, he declined contradicting it, and told the prince that he must abide by it in whatever way it might have been obtained. by the plan then settled, ministers had a check upon the prince's expenditure, which they never exerted, nor enforced adherence to the plan. * * * * * "while ministers never interfered to check expenses, of which they could not pretend ignorance, the prince had recourse to means for relieving himself from his embarrassments, which ultimately tended to increase them. it was attempted to raise a loan for him in foreign countries, a measure which he thought unconstitutional, and put a stop to; and, after a consultation with lord loughborough, all the bonds were burnt, although with a considerable loss to the prince. after that, another plan of retrenchment was proposed, upon which he had frequent consultations with lord thurlow, who gave the prince fair, open, and manly advice. that noble lord told the prince, that, after the promise he had made, he must not think of applying to parliament;--that he must avoid being of any party in politics, but, above all, exposing himself to the suspicion of being influenced in political opinion by his embarrassments;--that the only course he could pursue with honor, was to retire from public life for a time, and appropriate the greater part of his income to the liquidation of his debts. this plan was agreed upon in the autum of . why, it might be asked, was it not carried into effect? about that period his royal highness began to receive unsolicited advice from another quarter. he was told by lord loughborough, both in words and in writing, that the plan savored too much of the advice given to m. egalité, and he could guess from what quarter it came. for his own part, he was then of opinion, that to have avoided meddling in the great political questions which were then coming to be discussed, and to have put his affairs in a train of adjustment, would have better become his high station, and tended more to secure public respect to it, than the pageantry of state-liveries." the few occasions on which the name of mr. sheridan was again connected with literature, after the final investment of his genius in political speculations, were such as his fame might have easily dispensed with;--and one of them, the forgery of the shakspeare papers, occurred in the course of the present year. whether it was that he looked over these manuscripts with the eye more of a manager than of a critic, and considered rather to what account the belief in their authenticity might be turned, than how far it was founded upon internal evidence;--or whether, as mr. ireland asserts, the standard at which he rated the genius of shakspeare was not so high as to inspire him with a very watchful fastidiousness of judgment; certain it is that he was, in some degree, the dupe of this remarkable imposture, which, as a lesson to the self-confidence of criticism, and an exposure of the fallibility of taste, ought never to be forgotten in literary history. the immediate payment of _l_. and a moiety of the profits for the first sixty nights, were the terms upon which mr. sheridan purchased the play of vortigern from the irelands. the latter part of the conditions was voided the first night; and, though it is more than probable that a genuine tragedy of shakspeare, if presented under similar circumstances, would have shared the same fate, the public enjoyed the credit of detecting and condemning a counterfeit, which had passed current through some of the most learned and tasteful hands of the day. it is but justice, however, to mr. sheridan to add, that, according to the account of ireland himself, he was not altogether without misgivings during his perusal of the manuscripts, and that his name does not appear among the signatures to that attestation of their authenticity which his friend dr. parr drew up, and was himself the first to sign. the curious statement of mr. ireland, with respect to sheridan's want of enthusiasm for shakspeare, receives some confirmation from the testimony of mr. boaden, the biographer of kemble, who tells us that "kemble frequently expressed to him his wonder that sheridan should trouble himself _so little_ about shakspeare." this peculiarity of taste,--if it really existed to the degree that these two authorities would lead us to infer,--affords a remarkable coincidence with the opinions of another illustrious genius, lately lost to the world, whose admiration of the great demiurge of the drama was leavened with the same sort of heresy. in the january of this year, mr. william stone--the brother of the gentleman whose letter from paris has been given in a preceding chapter--was tried upon a charge of high treason, and mr. sheridan was among the witnesses summoned for the prosecution. he had already in the year , in consequence of a reference from mr. stone himself, been examined before the privy council, relative to a conversation which he had held with that gentleman, and, on the day after his examination, had, at the request of mr. dundas, transmited to that minister in writing the particulars of his testimony before the council. there is among his papers a rough draft of this statement, in comparing which with his evidence upon the trial in the present year, i find rather a curious proof of the faithlessness of even the best memories. the object of the conversation which he had held with mr. stone in --and which constituted the whole of their intercourse with each other--was a proposal on the part of the latter, submitted also to lord lauderdale and others, to exert his influence in france, through those channels which his brother's residence there opened to him, for the purpose of averting the threatened invasion of england, by representing to the french rulers the utter hopelessness of such an attempt. mr. sheridan, on the trial, after an ineffectual request to be allowed to refer to his written statement, gave the following as part of his recollections of the conversation:-- "mr. stone stated that, in order to effect this purpose, he had endeavored to collect the opinions of several gentlemen, political characters in this country, whose opinions he thought would be of authority sufficient to advance his object; that for this purpose he had had interviews with different gentlemen; he named mr. smith and, i think, one or two more, whose names i do not now recollect. he named some gentlemen connected with administration--if the counsel will remind me of the name--" here mr. law, the examining counsel, remarked, that "upon the cross-examination, if the gentlemen knew the circumstance, they would mention it." the cross-examination of sheridan by sergeant adair was as follows:-- "you stated in the course of your examination that mr. stone said there was a gentleman connected with government, to whom he had made a similar communication, should you recollect the name of that person if you were reminded of it?--i certainly should.--was it general murray?--general murray certainly." notwithstanding this, however, it appears from the written statement in my possession, drawn up soon after the conversation in question, that this "gentleman connected with government," so difficult to be remembered, was no other than the prime minister, mr. pitt himself. so little is the memory to be relied upon in evidence, particularly when absolved from responsibility by the commission of its deposit to writing. the conduct of mr. sheridan throughout this transaction appears to have been sensible and cautious. that he was satisfied with it himself may be collected from the conclusion of his letter to mr. dundas:--"under the circumstances in which the application, (from mr. dundas,) has been made to me, i have thought it equally a matter of respect to that application and of respect to myself, as well as of justice to the person under suspicion, to give this relation more in detail than at first perhaps might appear necessary. my own conduct in the matter not being in question, i can only say that were a similar case to occur, i think i should act in every circumstance precisely in the manner i did on this occasion." the parliamentary exertions of mr. sheridan this year, though various and active, were chiefly upon subordinate questions; and, except in the instance of mr. fox's motion of censure upon ministers for advancing money to the emperor without the consent of parliament, were not distinguished by any signal or sustained displays of eloquence. the grand questions, indeed, connected with the liberty of the subject, had been so hotly contested, that but few new grounds were left on which to renew the conflict. events, however,--the only teachers of the great mass of mankind,--were beginning to effect what eloquence had in vain attempted. the people of england, though generally eager for war, are seldom long in discovering that "the cup but sparkles near the brim;" and in the occurrences of the following year they were made to taste the full bitterness of the draught. an alarm for the solvency of the bank, an impending invasion, a mutiny in the fleet, and an organized rebellion in ireland,--such were the fruits of four years' warfare, and they were enough to startle even the most sanguine and precipitate into reflection. the conduct of mr. sheridan on the breaking out of the mutiny at the nore is too well known and appreciated to require any illustration here. it is placed to his credit on the page of history, and was one of the happiest impulses of good feeling and good sense combined, that ever public man acted upon in a situation demanding so much of both. the patriotic promptitude of his interference was even more striking than it appears in the record of his parliamentary labors; for, as i have heard at but one remove from his own authority, while the ministry were yet hesitating as to the steps they should take, he went to mr. dundas and said.--"my advice is that you cut the buoys on the river--send sir charles grey down to the coast, and set a price on parker's head. if the administration take this advice instantly, they ill save the country--if not, they will lose it; and, on their refusal, i will impeach them in the house of commons this very evening." without dwelling on the contrast which is so often drawn--less with a view to elevate sheridan than to depreciate his party--between the conduct of himself and his friends at this fearful crisis, it is impossible not to concede that, on the scale of public spirit, he rose as far superior to them as the great claims of the general safety transcend all personal considerations and all party ties. it was, indeed, a rare triumph of temper and sagacity. with less temper, he would have seen in this awful peril but an occasion of triumph over the minister whom he had so long been struggling to overturn--and, with less sagacity, he would have thrown away the golden opportunity of establishing himself for ever in the affections and the memories of englishmen, as one whose heart was in the common-weal, whatever might be his opinions, and who, in the moment of peril, could sink the partisan in the patriot. as soon as he had performed this exemplary duty, he joined mr. fox and the rest of his friends who had seceded from parliament about a week before, on the very day after the rejection of mr. grey's motion for a reform. this step, which was intended to create a strong sensation, by hoisting, as it were, the signal of despair to the country, was followed by no such striking effects, and left little behind but a question as to its prudence and patriotism. the public saw, however, with pleasure, that there were still a few champions of the constitution, who did not "leave her fair side all unguarded" in this extremity. mr. tierney, among others, remained at his post, encountering mr. pitt on financial questions with a vigor and address to which the latter had been hitherto unaccustomed, and perfecting by practice that shrewd power of analysis, which has made him so formidable a sifter of ministerial sophistries ever since. sir francis burdett, too, was just then entering into his noble career of patriotism; and, like the youthful servant of the temple in euripides, was aiming his first shafts at those unclean birds, that settle within the sanctuary of the constitution and sully its treasures:-- [greek: "ptaenon t'agalas a blaptusae semn' anathaemata"] by a letter from the earl of moira to col. m'mahon in the summer of this year it appears, that in consequence of the calamitous state of the country, a plan had been in agitation among some members of the house of commons, who had hitherto supported the measures of the minister, to form an entirely new administration, of which the noble earl was to be the head, and from which both mr. pitt and mr. fox, as equally obnoxious to the public, were to be excluded. the only materials that appear to have been forthcoming for this new cabinet were lord moira himself, lord thurlow, and sir william pulteney--the last of whom it was intended to make chancellor of the exchequer. such a tottering balance of parties, however, could not have been long maintained; and its relapse, after a short interval, into toryism, would but have added to the triumph of mr. pitt, and increased his power. accordingly lord moira, who saw from the beginning the delicacy and difficulty of the task, wisely abandoned it. the share that mr. sheridan had in this transaction is too honorable to him not to be recorded, and the particulars cannot be better given than in lord moira's own words:-- "you say that mr. sheridan has been traduced, as wishing to abandon mr. fox, and to promote a new administration. i had accidentally a conversation with that gentleman at the house of lords. i remonstrated strongly with him against a principle which i heard mr. fox's friends intended to lay down, namely, that they would support a new administration, but that not any of them would take part in it. i solemnly declare, upon my honor, that i could not shake mr. sheridan's conviction of the propriety of that determination. he said that he and mr. fox's other friends, as well as mr. fox himself, would give the most energetic support to such an administration as was in contemplation; but that their acceptance of office would appear an acquiescence under the injustice of the interdict supposed to be fixed upon mr. fox. i did not and never can admit the fairness of that argument. but i gained nothing upon mr. sheridan, to whose uprightness in that respect i can therefore bear the most decisive testimony. indeed i am ashamed of offering testimony, where suspicion ought not to have been conceived." chapter viii. play of "the stranger"--speeches in parliament.--pizarro.--ministry of mr. addington.--french institute.--negotiation with mr. kemble. the theatrical season of introduced to the public the german drama of "the stranger," translated by mr. thompson, and (as we are told by this gentleman in his preface) altered and improved by sheridan. there is reason, however, to believe that the contributions of the latter to the dialogue were much more considerable than he was perhaps willing to let the translator acknowledge. my friend mr. rogers has heard him, on two different occasions, declare that he had written every word of the stranger from beginning to end; and, as his vanity could not be much interested in such a claim, it is possible that there was at least some virtual foundation for it. the song introduced in this play, "i have a silent sorrow here," was avowedly written by sheridan, as the music of it was by the duchess of devonshire--two such names, so brilliant in their respective spheres, as the muses of song and verse have seldom had the luck to bring together. the originality of these lines has been disputed; and that expedient of borrowing which their author _ought_ to have been independent of in every way, is supposed to have been resorted to by his indolence on this occasion. some verses by tickell are mentioned as having supplied one of the best stanzas; but i am inclined to think, from the following circumstances, that this theft of sheridan was of that venial and domestic kind--from himself. a writer, who brings forward the accusation in the gentleman's magazine, (vol. lxxi. p. ,) thus states his grounds:-- "in a song which i purchased at bland's music-shop in holborn in the year , intitled, 'think not, my love' and professing to be set to music by thomas wright. (i conjecture, organist of newcastle-upon-tyne, and composer of the pretty opera called rusticity.) are the following words:-- "the song to which the writer alludes, "think not, my love," was given to me, as a genuine production of mr. sheridan, by a gentleman nearly connected with his family; and i have little doubt of its being one of those early love-strains which, in his _tempo de' dolci sospiri_, he addressed to miss linley. as, therefore, it was but "a feather of his own" that the eagle made free with, he may be forgiven. the following is the whole of the song:-- "this treasured grief, this loved despair, my lot forever be; but, dearest, may the pangs i bear be never known to thee!' "now, without insisting that the opening thought in mr. sheridan's famous song has been borrowed from that of 'think not, my love,' the second verse is manifestly such a theft of the lines i have quoted as entirely overturns mr. sheridan's claim to originality in the matter, unless 'think not, my love,' has been written by him, and he can be proved to have only stolen from himself." "think not, my love, when secret grief preys on my saddened heart, think not i wish a mean relief. or would from sorrow part. "dearly i prize the sighs sincere, that my true fondness prove. nor would i wish to check the tear, that flows from hapless love! "alas! tho' doom'd to hope in vain the joys that love requite, yet will i cherish all its pain, with sad, but dear delight. "this treasured grief, this lov'd despair, my lot for ever be; but, dearest, may the pangs i bear be never known to thee!" among the political events of this year, the rebellion of ireland holds a memorable and fearful preeminence. the only redeeming stipulation which the duke of portland and his brother alarmists had annexed to their ill-judged coalition with mr. pitt was, that a system of conciliation and justice should, at last, be adopted towards ireland. had they but carried thus much wisdom into the ministerial ranks with them, their defection might have been pardoned for the good it achieved, and, in one respect at least, would have resembled the policy of those missionaries, who join in the ceremonies of the heathen for the purpose of winning him over to the truth. on the contrary, however, the usual consequence of such coalitions with power ensued,--the good was absorbed in the evil principle, and, by the false hope which it created, but increased the mischief. lord fitzwilliam was not only deceived himself, but, still worse to a noble and benevolent nature like his, was made the instrument of deception and mockery to millions. his recall, in , assisted by the measures of his successor, drove ireland into the rebellion which raged during the present year, and of which the causes have been so little removed from that hour to this, that if the people have become too wise to look back to it, as an example, it is assuredly not because their rulers have much profited by it as a lesson. i am aware that, on the subject of ireland and her wrongs, i can ill trust myself with the task of expressing what i feel, or preserve that moderate, historical tone, which it has been my wish to maintain through the political opinions of this work. on every other point, my homage to the high character of england, and of her institutions, is prompt and cordial;--on this topic alone, my feelings towards her have been taught to wear "the badge of bitterness." as a citizen of the world, i would point to england as its brightest ornament,--but, as a disfranchised irishman, i blush to belong to her. instead, therefore, of hazarding any farther reflections of my own on the causes and character of the rebellion of , i shall content myself with giving an extract from a speech which mr. sheridan delivered on the subject, in the june of that year:-- "what! when conciliation was held out to the people of ireland, was there any discontent? when the government of ireland was agreeable to the people, was there any discontent? after the prospect of that conciliation was taken away,--after lord fitzwilliam was recalled,--after the hopes which had been raised were blasted,--when the spirit of the people was beaten down, insulted, despised, i will ask any gentleman to point out a single act of conciliation which has emanated from the government of ireland? on the contrary; has not that country exhibited one continual scene of the most grievous oppression, of the most vexatious proceedings; arbitrary punishments inflicted; torture declared necessary by the highest authority in the sister-kingdom next to that of the legislature? and do gentlemen say that the indignant spirit which is roused by such exercise of government is unprovoked? is this conciliation? is this lenity? has everything been done to avert the evils of rebellion? it is the fashion to say, and the address holds the same language, that the rebellion which now rages in the sister-kingdom has been owing to the machinations of 'wicked men.' agreeing to the amendment proposed, it was my first intention to move that these words should be omitted. but, sir, the fact they assert is true. it is, indeed, to the measures of wicked men that the deplorable state of ireland is to be imputed. it is to those wicked ministers who have broken the promises they held out, who betrayed the party they seduced into their views, to be the instruments of the foulest treachery that ever was practised against any people. it is to those wicked ministers who have given up that devoted country to plunder,--resigned it a prey to this faction, by which it has so long been trampled upon, and abandoned it to every species of insult and oppression by which a country was ever overwhelmed, or the spirit of a people insulted, that we owe the miseries into which ireland is plunged, and the dangers by which england is threatened. these evils are the doings of wicked ministers, and applied to them, the language of the address records a fatal and melancholy truth." the popularity which the conduct of mr. sheridan, on the occasion of the mutiny, had acquired for him,--everywhere but among his own immediate party,--seems to have produced a sort of thaw in the rigor of his opposition to government; and the language which he now began to hold, with respect to the power and principles of france, was such as procured for him, more than once in the course of the present session, the unaccustomed tribute of compliments from the treasury-bench. without, in the least degree, questioning his sincerity in this change of tone, it may be remarked, that the most watchful observer of the tide of public opinion could not have taken it at the turn more seasonably or skilfully. there was, indeed, just at this time a sensible change in the feeling of the country. the dangers to which it had been reduced were great, but the crisis seemed over. the new wings lent to credit by the paper-currency, --the return of the navy to discipline and victory,--the disenchantment that had taken place with respect to french principles, and the growing persuasion, since strengthened into conviction, that the world has never committed a more gross mistake than in looking to the french as teachers of liberty,--the insulting reception of the late pacific overtures at lisle, and that never-failing appeal to the pride and spirit of englishmen, which a threat of invading their sacred shore brings with it,--all these causes concurred, at this moment, to rally the people of england round the government, and enabled the minister to extract from the very mischiefs which himself had created the spirit of all others most competent to bear and surmount them. such is the elasticity of a free country, however, for the moment, misgoverned,--and the only glory due to the minister under whom such a people, in spite of misgovernment, flourishes, is that of having proved, by the experiment, how difficult it is to ruin them. while mr. sheridan took these popular opportunities of occasionally appearing before the public, mr. fox persevered, with but little interruption, in his plan of secession from parliament altogether. from the beginning of the session of this year, when, at the instance of his constituents, he appeared in his place to oppose the assessed taxes bill, till the month of february, , he raised his voice in the house but upon two questions,--each "dignus vindice,"--the abolition of the slave-trade, and a change of system in ireland. he had thrown into his opposition too much real feeling and earnestness to be able, like sheridan, to soften it down, or shape it to the passing temper of the times. in the harbor of private life alone could that swell subside; and, however the country missed his warning eloquence, there is little doubt that his own mind and heart were gainers by a retirement, in which he had leisure to "prune the ruffled wings" of his benevolent spirit,--to exchange the ambition of being great for that of being useful, and to listen, in the stillness of retreat, to the lessons of a mild wisdom, of which, had his life been prolonged, his country would have felt the full influence. from one of sheridan's speeches at this time we find that the change which had lately taken place in his public conduct had given rise to some unworthy imputations upon his motives. there are few things less politic in an eminent public man than a too great readiness to answer accusations against his character. for, as he is, in general, more extensively read or heard than his accusers, the first intimation, in most cases, that the public receives of any charge against him will be from his own answer to it. neither does the evil rest here;--for the calumny remains embalmed in the defence, long after its own ephemeral life is gone. to this unlucky sort of sensitiveness mr. sheridan was but too much disposed to give way, and accordingly has been himself the chronicler of many charges against him, of which we should have been otherwise wholly ignorant. of this nature were the imputations founded on his alleged misunderstanding with the duke of portland, in , to which i have already made some allusion, and of which we should have known nothing but for his own notice of it. his vindication of himself, in , from the suspicion of being actuated by self-interest, in his connection with the prince, or of having received from him, (to use his own expressions,) "so much as the present of a horse or a picture," is another instance of the same kind, where he has given substance and perpetuity to rumor, and marked out the track of an obscure calumny, which would otherwise have been forgotten. at the period immediately under our consideration he has equally enabled us to collect, from his gratuitous defence of himself, that the line lately taken by him in parliament, on the great questions of the mutiny and invasion, had given rise to suspicions of his political steadiness, and to rumors of his approaching separation from mr. fox. "i am sorry," he said, on one occasion, "that it is hardly possible for any man to speak in this house, and to obtain credit for speaking from a principle of public spirit; that no man can oppose a minister without being accused of faction, and none, who usually opposed, can support a minister, or lend him assistance in anything, without being accused of doing so from interested motives. i am not such a coxcomb as to say, that it is of much importance what part i may take; or that it is essential that i should divide a little popularity, or some emolument, with the ministers of the crown; nor am i so vain as to imagine, that my services might be solicited. certainly they have not. that might have arisen from want of importance in myself, or from others, whom i have been in the general habit of opposing, conceiving that i was not likely either to give up my general sentiments, or my personal attachments. however that may be, certain it is, they never have made any attempt to apply to me for my assistance." in reviewing his parliamentary exertions during this year, it would be injustice to pass over his speech on the assessed taxes bill, in which, among other fine passages, the following vehement burst of eloquence occurs: "but we have gained, forsooth, several ships by the victory of the first of june,--by the capture of toulon,--by the acquisition of those charnel-houses in the west indies, in which , men have been lost to this country. consider the price which has been paid for these successes. for these boasted successes, i will say, give me back the blood of englishmen which has been shed in this fatal contest.--give me back the millions of debt which it has occasioned.--give me back the honor of the country which has been tarnished,--give me back the credit of the country, which has been destroyed,--give me back the solidity of the bank of england, which has been overthrown; the attachment of the people to their ancient constitution, which has been shaken by acts of oppression and tyrannical laws,--give me back the kingdom of ireland, the connection of which is endangered by a cruel and outrageous system of military coercion,--give me back that pledge of eternal war, which must be attended with inevitable ruin !" the great success which had attended the stranger, and the still increasing taste for the german drama, induced mr. sheridan, in the present year, to embark his fame even still more responsibly in a venture to the same romantic shores. the play of pizarro was brought out on the th of may, . the heroic interest of the plot, the splendor of the pageantry, and some skilful appeals to public feeling in the dialogue, obtained for it at once a popularity which has seldom been equalled. as far, indeed, as multiplied representations and editions are a proof of success, the legitimate issue of his muse might well have been jealous of the fame and fortune of their spurious german relative. when the author of the critic made puff say, "now for my magnificence,--my noise and my procession!" he little anticipated the illustration which, in twenty years afterwards, his own example would afford to that ridicule. not that in pageantry, when tastefully and subordinately introduced, there is any thing to which criticism can fairly object:--it is the dialogue of this play that is unworthy of its author, and ought never, from either motives of profit or the vanity of success, to have been coupled with his name. the style in which it is written belongs neither to verse nor prose, but is a sort of amphibious native of both,--neither gliding gracefully through the former element, nor walking steadily on the other. in order to give pomp to the language, inversion is substituted for metre; and one of the worst faults of poetry, a superfluity of epithet, is adopted, without that harmony which alone makes it venial or tolerable. it is some relief however, to discover, from the manuscripts in my possession, that mr. sheridan's responsibility for the defects of pizarro is not very much greater than his claim to a share in its merits. in the plot, and the arrangement of the scenes, it is well known, there is but little alteration from the german original. the omission of the comic scene of diego, which kotzebue himself intended to omit,--the judicious suppression of elvira's love for alonzo,--the introduction, so striking in representation, of rolla's passage across the bridge, and the re-appearance of elvira in the habit of a nun, form, i believe, the only important points in which the play of mr. sheridan deviates from the structure of the original drama. with respect to the dialogue, his share in its composition is reducible to a compass not much more considerable. a few speeches, and a few short scenes, re-written, constitute almost the whole of the contribution he has furnished to it. the manuscript- translation, or rather imitation, of the "spaniards in pern," which he used as the ground-work of pizarro, has been preserved among his papers:--and, so convenient was it to his indolence to take the style as he found it, that, except, as i have said, in a few speeches and scenes, which might be easily enumerated, he adopted, with scarcely any alteration, the exact words of the translator, whose taste, therefore, (whoever he may have been,) is answerable for the spirit and style of three-fourths of the dialogue. even that scene where cora describes the "white buds" and "crimson blossoms" of her infant's teeth, which i have often heard cited as a specimen of sheridan's false ornament, is indebted to this unknown paraphrast for the whole of its embroidery. but though he is found to be innocent of much of the contraband matter, with which his co-partner in this work had already vitiated it, his own contributions to the dialogue are not of a much higher or purer order. he seems to have written down, to the model before him, and to have been inspired by nothing but an emulation of its faults. his style, accordingly, is kept hovering in the same sort of limbo, between blank verse and prose,--while his thoughts and images, however shining and effective on the stage, are like the diamonds of theatrical royalty, and will not bear inspection off it. the scene between alonzo and pizarro, in the third act, is one of those almost entirely rewritten by sheridan; and the following medley group of personifications affords a specimen of the style to which his taste could descend:-- "then would i point out to him where now, in clustered villages, they live like brethren, social and confiding, while through the burning day content sits basking on the cheek of toil, till laughing pastime leads them to the hour of rest." the celebrated harangue of rolla to the peruvians, into which kemble used to infuse such heroic dignity, is an amplification of the following sentences of the original, as i find them given in lewis's manuscript translation of the play:-- "_rolla_. you spaniards fight for gold; we for our country. "_alonzo_. they follow an adventurer to the field; we a monarch whom we love. "_atalib_. and a god whom we adore!" this speech, to whose popular sentiments the play owed much of its success, was chiefly made up by sheridan of loans from his own oratory. the image of the vulture and the lamb was taken, as i have already remarked, from a passage in his speech on the trial of hastings;--and he had, on the subject of invasion, in the preceding year, ( ,) delivered more than once the substance of those patriotic sentiments, which were now so spirit-stirring in the mouth of rolla. for instance, on the king's message relative to preparation for invasion:-- "the directory may instruct their guards to make the fairest professions of how their army is to act; but of these professions surely not one can be believed. the victorious buonaparte may say that he comes like a minister of grace, with no other purpose than to give peace to the cottager, to restore citizens to their rights, to establish real freedom, and a liberal and humane government. but can there be an englishman so stupid, so besotted, so befooled, as to give a moment's credit to such ridiculous professions? ... what, then, is their object? they come for what they really want: they come for ships, for commerce, for credit, and for capital. yes; they come for the sinews, the bones--for the marrow and the very heart's blood of great britain. but let us examine what we are to purchase at this price. liberty, it appears, is now their staple commodity: but attend, i say, and examine how little of real liberty they themselves enjoy, who are so forward and prodigal in bestowing it on others." the speech of rolla in the prison-scene is also an interpolation of his own,--kotzebue having, far more judiciously, (considering the unfitness of the moment for a _tirade_,) condensed the reflections of rolla into the short exclamation, "oh, sacred nature! thou art still true to thyself," and then made him hurry into the prison to his friend. of the translation of this play by lewis, which has been found among the papers, mr. sheridan does not appear to have made any use;--except in so far as it may have suggested to him the idea of writing a song for cora, of which that gentleman had set him an example in a ballad, beginning "soft are thy slumbers, soft and sweet, hush thee, hush thee, hush thee, boy." the song of mr. lewis, however, is introduced, with somewhat less violence to probability, at the beginning of the third act, where the women are waiting for the tidings of the battle, and when the intrusion of a ballad from the heroine, though sufficiently unnatural, is not quite so monstrous as in the situation which sheridan has chosen for it. the following stanza formed a part of the song, as it was originally written:-- 'those eyes that beam'd this morn the light of youth, this morn i saw their gentle rays impart the day-spring sweet of hope, of love, of truth, the pure aurora of my lover's heart. yet wilt thou rise, oh sun, and waste thy light, while my alonzo's beams are quench'd in night.' the only question upon which he spoke this year was the important measure of the union, which he strenuously and at great length opposed. like every other measure, professing to be for the benefit of ireland, the union has been left incomplete in the one essential point, without which there is no hope of peace or prosperity for that country. as long as religious disqualification is left to "lie like lees at the bottom of men's hearts," [footnote: "it lay like lees at the bottom of men's hearts; and, if the vessel was but stirred, it would come up."--bacon, henry vii.] in vain doth the voice of parliament pronounce the word "union" to the two islands--a feeling, deep as the sea that breaks between them, answers back, sullenly, "separation." through the remainder of mr. sheridan's political career it is my intention, for many reasons, to proceed with a more rapid step; and merely to give the particulars of his public conduct, together with such documents as i can bring to illustrate it, without entering into much discussion or comment on either. of his speeches in ,--during which year, on account, perhaps, of the absence of mr. fox from the house, he was particularly industrious,--i shall select a few brief specimens for the reader. on the question of the grant to the emperor of germany, he said:-- "i do think, sir, jacobin principles never existed much in this country; and even admitting they had, i say they have been found so hostile to true liberty, that, in proportion as we love it, (and, whatever may be said, i must still consider liberty an inestimable blessing,) we must hate and detest these principles. but more,--i do not think they even exist in france. they have there died the best of deaths; a death i am more pleased to see than if it had been effected by foreign force,--they have stung themselves to death, and died by their own poison." the following is a concise and just summary of the causes and effects of the french revolutionary war:-- "france, in the beginning of the revolution, had conceived many romantic notions; she was to put an end to war, and produce, by a pure form of government, a perfectibility of mind which before had never been realized. the monarchs of europe, seeing the prevalence of these new principles, trembled for their thrones. france, also, perceiving the hostility of kings to her projects, supposed she could not be a republic without the overthrow of thrones. such has been the regular progress of cause and effect; but who was the first aggressor, with whom the jealousy first arose, need not now be a matter of discussion. both the republic and the monarchs who opposed her acted on the same principles;--the latter said they must exterminate jacobins, and the former that they must destroy monarchs. from this source have all the calamities of europe flowed; and it is now a waste of time and argument to inquire further into the subject." adverting, in his speech on the negotiation with france, to the overtures that had been made for a maritime truce, he says, with that national feeling, which rendered him at this time so popular,-- "no consideration for our ally, no hope of advantage to be derived from joint negotiation, should have induced the english government to think for a moment of interrupting the course of our naval triumphs. this measure, sir, would have broken the heart of the navy, and would have damped all its future exertions. how would our gallant sailors have felt, when, chained to their decks like galley-slaves, they saw the enemy's vessels sailing under their bows in security, and proceeding, without a possibility of being molested, to revictual those places which had been so long blockaded by their astonishing skill, perseverance, and valor? we never stood more in need of their services, and their feelings at no time deserved to be more studiously consulted. the north of europe presents to england a most awful and threatening aspect. without giving an opinion as to the origin of these hostile dispositions, or pronouncing decidedly whether they are wholly ill-founded, i hesitate not to say, that if they have been excited because we have insisted upon enforcing the old established maritime law of europe,--because we stood boldly forth in defence of indisputable privileges,--because we have refused to abandon the source of our prosperity, the pledge of our security, and the foundation of our naval greatness,--they ought to be disregarded or set at defiance. if we are threatened to be deprived of that which is the charter of our existence, which has procured us the commerce of the world, and been the means of spreading our glory over every land,--if the rights and honors of our flag are to be called in question, every risk should be run, and every danger braved. then we should have a legitimate cause of war;--then the heart of every briton would burn with indignation, and his hand be stretched forth in defence of his country. if our flag is to be insulted, let us nail it to the top-mast of the nation; there let it fly while we shed the last drop of our blood in protecting it, and let it be degraded only when the nation itself is overwhelmed." he thus ridicules, in the same speech, the etiquette that had been observed in the selection of the ministers who were to confer with m. otto:-- "this stiff-necked policy shows insincerity. i see mr. napean and mr. hammond also appointed to confer with m. otto, because they are of the same rank. is not this as absurd as if lord whitworth were to be sent to petersburgh, and told that he was not to treat but with some gentleman of six feet high, and as handsome as himself? sir, i repeat, that this is a stiff-necked policy, when the lives of thousands are at stake." in the following year mr. pitt was succeeded, as prime minister, by mr. addington. the cause assigned for this unexpected change was the difference of opinion that existed between the king and mr. pitt, with respect to the further enfranchisement of the catholics of ireland. to this measure the minister and some of his colleagues considered themselves to have been pledged by the act of union; but, on finding that they could not carry it, against the scruples of their royal master, resigned. though mr. pitt so far availed himself of this alleged motive of his abdication as to found on it rather an indecorous appeal to the catholics, in which he courted popularity for himself at the expense of that of the king, it was suspected that he had other and less disinterested reasons for his conduct. indeed, while he took merit to himself for thus resigning his supremacy, he well knew that he still commanded it with "a falconer's voice," and, whenever he pleased, "could lure the tassel-gentle back again." the facility with which he afterwards returned to power, without making any stipulation for the measure now held to be essential, proves either that the motive now assigned for his resignation was false, or that, having sacrificed power to principle in , he took revenge by making principle, in its turn, give way to power in . during the early part of the new administration, mr. sheridan appears to have rested on his arms,--having spoken so rarely and briefly throughout the session as not to have furnished to the collector of his speeches a single specimen of oratory worth recording. it is not till the discussion of the definitive treaty, in may, , that he is represented as having professed himself friendly to the existing ministry:--"certainly," he said, "i have in several respects given my testimony in favor of the present ministry,--in nothing more than for making the best peace, perhaps, they could, after their predecessors had left them in such a deplorable situation." it was on this occasion, however, that, in ridiculing the understanding supposed to exist between the ex-minister and his successor, he left such marks of his wit on the latter as all his subsequent friendship could not efface. among other remarks, full of humor, he said,-- "i should like to support the present minister on fair ground; but what is he? a sort of _outside passenger_,--or rather a man leading the horses round a corner, while reins, whip, and all, are in the hands of the coachman on the _box_! (_looking at mr. pitt's elevated seat, three or four benches above that of the treasury_.) why not have an union of the two ministers, or, at least, some intelligible connection? when the ex-minister quitted office, almost all the _subordinate_ ministers kept their places. how was it that the whole family did not move together? had he only one _covered waggon_ to carry _friends and goods_? or has he left directions behind him that they may know where to call? i remember a fable of _aristophanes's_, which is translated from greek into decent english. i mention this for the country gentlemen. it is of a man that sat so long on a seat, (about as long, perhaps, as the ex-minister did on the treasury-bench,) that he grew to it. when hercules pulled him off, he left all the sitting part of the man behind him. the house can make the allusion." [footnote: the following is another highly humorous passage from this speech:--"but let france have colonies! oh, yes! let her have a good trade, that she may be afraid of war, says the learned member,--that's the way to make buonaparte love peace. he has had, to be sure, a sort of military education. he has been abroad, and is rather _rough company_; but if you put him behind the _counter_ a little, he will mend exceedingly. when i was reading the treaty, i thought all the names of foreign places, viz. poindicherry, chandenenagore, cochin, martinico, &c, all _cessions_. not they--they are all so many _traps_ and _holes_ to catch this silly fellow in, and make a _merchant_ of him! i really think the best way upon this principle would be this:--let the merchants of london open a _public subscription_, and set him up at once. i hear a great deal respecting a certain _statue_ about to be erected to the right honorable gentleman, (mr. pitt,) now in my eye, at a great expense. send all that money over to the first consul, and give him, what you talk of so much, _capital_, to begin trade with. i hope the right honorable gentleman over the way will, like the first consul, refuse a statue for the present, and postpone it as a work to posterity. there is no harm, however, in marking out the place. the right honorable gentleman is musing, perhaps, on what square, or place, he will choose for its erection. i recommend the _bank of england_. now for the material. not gold: no, no!--he has not left enough of it. i should, however, propose _papier mache_ and old banknotes."] we have here an instance, in addition to the many which i have remarked, of his adroitness, not only in laying claim to all _waifs_ of wit, "_ubi non apparebat dominus,_" but in stealing the wit himself, wherever he could find it. this happy application of the fable of hercules and theseus to the ministry had been first made by gilbert wakefield, in a letter to mr. fox, which the latter read to sheridan a few days before the debate; and the only remark that sheridan made, on hearing it, was, "what an odd pedantic fancy!" but the wit knew well the value of the jewel that the pedant had raked up, and lost no time in turning it to account with all his accustomed skill. the letter of wakefield, in which the application of the fable occurs, has been omitted, i know not why, in his published correspondence with mr. fox: but a letter of mr. fox in the same collection, thus alludes to it:--"your story of theseus is excellent, as applicable to our present rulers; if you could point out to me where i could find it, i should be much obliged to you. the scholiast on aristophanes is too wide a description." mr. wakefield in answer, says,--"my aristophanes, with the scholia, is not here. if i am right in my recollection, the story probably occurs in the scholia on the frogs, and would soon be found by reference to the name of theseus in kuster's index." another instance of this propensity in sheridan, (which made him a sort of catiline in wit, "covetous of another's wealth, and profuse of his own,") occurred during the preceding session. as he was walking down to the house with sir philip francis and another friend, on the day when the address of thanks on the peace as moved, sir philip francis pithily remarked, that "it was a peace which every one would be glad of, but no one would be proud of." sheridan, who was in a hurry to get to the house, did not appear to attend to the observation;--but, before he had been many minutes in his seat, he rose, and, in the course of a short speech, (evidently made for the purpose of passing his stolen coin as soon as possible,) said, "this, sir, is a peace which every one will be glad of, but no one can be proud of." [footnote: a similar theft was his observation, that "half the debt of england had been incurred in pulling down the bourbons, and the other half in setting them up"--which pointed remark he had heard, in conversation, from sir arthur pigott.] the following letter from dr. parr to sheridan, this year, records an instance of delicate kindness which renders it well worthy of preservation:-- "dear sir, "i believe that you and my old pupil tom feel a lively interest in my happiness, and, therefore, i am eager to inform you that, without any solicitation, and in the most handsome manner, sir francis burdett has offered me the rectory of graffham in huntingdonshire; that the yearly value of it now amounts to _l_., and is capable of considerable improvement; that the preferment is tenable with my northamptonshire rectory; that the situation is pleasant; and that, by making it my place of residence, i shall be nearer to my respectable scholar and friend, edward maltby, to the university of cambridge, and to those norfolk connections which i value most highly. "i am not much skilled in ecclesiastical negotiations; and all my efforts to avail myself of the very obliging kindness conditionally intended for me by the duke of norfolk completely failed. but the noble friendship of sir francis burdett has set everything right. i cannot refuse myself the great satisfaction of laying before you the concluding passage in sir francis's letter:-- "'i acknowledge that a great additional motive with me to the offer i now make dr. parr, is, that i believe i cannot do any thing more pleading to his friends, mr. fox, mr. sheridan, and mr. knight; and i desire you, sir, to consider yourself as obliged to them only.' "you will readily conceive, that i was highly gratified with this striking and important passage, and that i wish for an early opportunity of communicating with yourself, and mr. fox, and mr. knight. "i beg my best compliments to mrs. sheridan and tom; and i have the honor to be, dear sir, your very faithful well-wisher, and respectful, obedient servant, "_september , buckden_. "s. parr." "sir francis sent his own servant to my house at hilton with the letter; and my wife, on reading it, desired the servant to bring it to me at buckden, near huntingdon, where i yesterday received it." it was about this time that the primary electors of the national institute of france having proposed haydn, the great composer, and mr. sheridan, as candidates for the class of literature and the fine arts, the institute, with a choice not altogether indefensible, elected haydn. some french epigrams on this occurrence, which appeared in the courier, seem to have suggested to sheridan the idea of writing a few english _jeux-d'esprit_ on the same subject, which were intended for the newspapers, but i rather think never appeared. these verses show that he was not a little piqued by the decision of the institute; and the manner in which he avails himself of his anonymous character to speak of his own claims to the distinction, is, it must be owned, less remarkable for modesty than for truth. but vanity, thus in masquerade, may be allowed some little license. the following is a specimen:-- "the wise decision all admire; 'twas just, beyond dispute-- sound taste! which, to apollo's lyre preferred--a german flute!" mr. kemble, who had been for some time manager of drury-lane theatre, was, in the course of the year - , tempted, notwithstanding the knowledge which his situation must have given him of the embarrassed state of the concern, to enter into negotiation with sheridan for the purchase of a share in the property. how much anxiety the latter felt to secure such an associate in the establishment appears strongly from the following paper, drawn up by him, to accompany the documents submitted to kemble during the negotiation, and containing some particulars of the property of drury-lane, which will be found not uninteresting:-- "outline of the terms on which it is proposed that mr. kemble shall purchase a quarter in the property of drury-lane theatre. "i really think there cannot be a negotiation, in matter of purchase and sale, so evidently for the advantage of both parties, if brought to a satisfactory conclusion. "i am decided that the management of the theatre cannot be respected, or successful, but in the hands of an actual proprietor; and still the better, if he is himself in the profession, and at the head of it. i am desirous, therefore, that mr. kemble should be a proprietor and manager. "mr. kemble is the person, of all others, who must naturally be desirous of both situations. he is at the head of his profession, without a rival; he is attached to it, and desirous of elevating its character. he may be assured of proper respect, &c., while i have the theatre; but i do not think he could brook his situation were the property to pass into vulgar and illiberal hands,--an event which he knows contingencies might produce. laying aside then all affectation of indifference, so common in making bargains, let us set out with acknowledging that it is mutually our interest to agree, if we can. at the same time, let it be avowed, that i must be considered as trying to get as good a price as i can, and mr. kemble to buy as cheap as he can. in parting with theatrical property, there is no standard, or measure, to direct the price: the whole question is, what are the probable profits, and what is such a proportion of them worth? "i bought of mr. garrick at the rate of , _l_. for the whole theatre. i bought of mr. lacey at the rate of , _l_. ditto. i bought of dr. ford at the rate of ,ooo_l_. ditto. in all these cases there was a perishable patent, and an expiring lease, each having to run, at the different periods of the purchases, from ten to twenty years only. "all these purchases have undoubtedly answered well; but in the chance of a third theatre consisted the risk; and the want of size and accommodation must have produced it, had the theatres continued as they were. but the _great_ and _important feature_ in the present property, and which is never for a moment to be lost sight of, is, that the monopoly is, morally speaking, established for ever, at least as well as the monarchy, constitution, public funds, &c.,--as appears by no. . being the copy of' the final arrangement' signed by the lord chamberlain, by authority of his majesty, the prince of wales, the duke of bedford, &c.; and the dormant patent of covent-garden, that former terror of drury-lane, is perpetually annexed to the latter. so that the value of drury-lane at present, and in the former sales, is out of all comparison,--independently of the new building, superior size, raised prices, &c., &c. but the incumbrances on the theatre, whose annual charge must be paid before there can be any surplus profit, are much greater than in mr. garrick's time, or on the old theatre afterwards. undoubtedly they are, and very considerably greater; but what is the proportion of the receipts? mr. garrick realized and left a fortune, of ,ooo_l_. (having lived, certainly, at no mean expense,) acquired in ---- years, on an average annual receipt of , _l_. (qu. this?) our receipts cannot be stated at less than , _l_. per ann.; and it is demonstrable that preventing the most palpable frauds and abuses, with even a tolerable system of exertion in the management, must bring it, at the least, to , _l_.; and this estimate does not include the advantages to be derived from the new tavern, passages, chinese hall, &c.,--an aid to the receipt, respecting the amount of which i am very sanguine. what then, is the probable profit, and what is a quarter of it worth? no. . is the amount of three seasons' receipts, the only ones on which an attempt at an average could be justifiable. no. . is the future estimate, on a system of exertion and good management. no. . the actual annual incumbrauces. no. . the nightly expenses. no. . the estimated profits. calculating on which, i demand for a quarter of the property, * * * *, reserving to myself the existing private boxes, but no more to be created, and the fruit-offices and houses not part of the theatre. "i assume that mr. kemble and i agree as to the price, annexing the following conditions to our agreement:--mr. kemble shall have his engagement as an actor for any rational time he pleases. mr. kemble shall be manager, with a clear salary of guineas per annum, and * * per cent. on the clear profits. mr. sheridan engages to procure from messrs. hammersleys a loan to mr. kemble of ten thousand pounds, part of the purchase-money for four years, for which loan he is content to become collateral security, and also to leave his other securities, now in their hands, in mortgage for the same. and for the payment of the rest of the money, mr. sheridan is ready to give mr. kemble every facility his circumstances will admit of. it is not to be overlooked, that if a private box is also made over to mr. kemble, for the whole term of the theatre lease, its value cannot be stated at less than , _l_. indeed, it might at any time produce to mr. kemble, or his assigns, _l_ per annum. vide no. . this is a material deduction from the purchase-money to be paid. "supposing all this arrangement made, i conceive mr. kemble's income would stand thus: £ s. d. salary as an actor, in lieu of benefit, as manager, percentage on clear profit, dividend on quarter-share, [footnote: "i put this on the very lowest speculation"] ______________ £ ______________ i need not say how soon this would clear the whole of the purchase. with regard to the title, &c. mr. crews and mr. pigott are to decide. as to debts, the share must be made over to mr. kemble free from a claim even; and for this purpose all demands shall be called in, by public advertisement, to be sent to mr. kemble's own solicitor. in short, mr. crews shall be satisfied that there does not exist an unsatisfied demand on the theatre, or a possibility of mr. kemble being involved in the risk of a shilling. mr. hammersley, or such person as mr. kemble and mr. sheridan shall agree on, to be treasurer, and receive and account for the whole receipts, pay the charges, trusts, &c.; and, at the close of the season, the surplus profits to the proprietors. a clause in case of death, or sale, to give the refusal to each other." the following letter from sheridan to kemble in answer, as it appears, to some complaint or remonstrance from the latter, in his capacity of manager, is too curiously characteristic of the writer to be omitted:-- "dear kemble, "if i had not a real good opinion of your principles and intentions upon all subjects, and a very bad opinion of your nerves and philosophy upon some, i should take very ill indeed, the letter i received from you this evening. "that the management of the theatre is a situation capable of becoming _troublesome_ is information which i do not want, and a discovery which i thought you had made long since. "i should be sorry to write to you gravely on your offer, because i must consider it as a nervous flight, which it would be as unfriendly in me to notice seriously as it would be in you seriously to have made it. "what i _am_ most serious in is a determination that, while the theatre is indebted, and others, for it and for me, are so involved and pressed as they are, i will exert myself, and give every attention and judgment in my power to the establishment of its interests. in you i hoped, and do hope, to find an assistant, on principles of liberal and friendly confidence,--i mean confidence that should be above touchiness and reserve, and that should trust to me to estimate the value of that assistance. "if there is any thing amiss in your mind, not arising from the _troublesomeness_ of your situation, it is childish and unmanly not to disclose it to me. the frankness with which i have always dealt towards you entitles me to expect that you should have done so. "but i have no reason to believe this to be the case; and, attributing your letter to a disorder which i know ought not to be indulged, i prescribe that you shall keep your appointment at the piazza coffee-house, to-morrow at five, and, taking four bottles of claret instead of three, to which in sound health you might stint yourself, forget that you ever wrote the letter, as i shall that i ever received it. "r. b. sheridan." chapter ix. state of parties.--offer of a place to mr. t. sheridan.--receivership of the duchy of cornwall bestowed upon mr. sheridan.--return of mr. pitt to power.--catholic question.--administration of lord grenville and mr. fox.--death of mr. fox.--representation of westminster.--dismission of the ministry.--theatrical negotiation.--spanish question.--letter to the prince. during the short interval of peace into which the country was now lulled,--like a ship becalmed for a moment in the valley between two vast waves,--such a change took place in the relative positions and bearings of the parties that had been so long arrayed against each other, and such new boundaries and divisions of opinion were formed, as considerably altered the map of the political world. while mr. pitt lent his sanction to the new administration, they, who had made common cause with him in resigning, violently opposed it; and, while the ministers were thus thwarted by those who had hitherto always agreed with them, they were supported by those whigs with whom they had before most vehemently differed. among this latter class of their friends was, as i have already remarked, mr. sheridan,--who, convinced that the only chance of excluding mr. pitt from power lay in strengthening the hands of those who were in possession, not only gave them the aid of his own name and eloquence, but endeavored to impress the same views upon mr. fox, and exerted his influence also to procure the sanction of carlton-house in their favor. it cannot, indeed, he doubted that sheridan, at this time, though still the friend of mr. fox, had ceased, in a great degree, to be his follower. their views with respect to the renewal of the war were wholly different. while sheridan joined in the popular feeling against france, and showed his knowledge of that great instrument, the public mind, by approaching it only with such themes as suited the martial mood to which it was tuned, the too confiding spirit of fox breathed nothing but forbearance and peace;--and he who, in , had proclaimed the "natural enmity" of england and france, as an argument against their commercial intercourse, now asked, with the softened tone which time and retirement had taught him, "whether france was for ever to be considered our rival?" [footnote: speech on the address of thanks in .] the following characteristic note, written by him previously to the debate on the army estimates, (december , ,) shows a consciousness that the hold which he had once had upon his friend was loosened:-- "dear sheridan, "i mean to be in town for monday,--that is, for the army. as for to-morrow, it is no matter;--i am _for_ a largish fleet, though perhaps not quite so large as they mean. pray, do not be absent monday, and let me have a quarter of an hour's conversation before the business begins. remember, i do not wish you to be inconsistent, at any rate. pitt's opinion by proxy is ridiculous beyond conception, and i hope you will show it in that light. i am very much against your abusing bonaparte, because i am sure it is impolitic both for the country and ourselves. but, as you please;--only, for god's sake, peace. [footnote: these last words are an interesting illustration of the line in mr. rogers's verses on this statesman:--"'peace,' when he spoke, was ever on his tongue"] "yours ever "_tuesday night._ "c. j. fox." it was about this period that the writer of these pages had, for the first time, the gratification of meeting mr. sheridan, at donington-park, the seat of the present marquis of hastings;--a circumstance which he recalls, not only with those lively impressions, that our first admiration of genius leaves behind, but with many other dreams of youth and hope, that still endear to him the mansion where that meeting took place, and among which gratitude to its noble owner is the only one, perhaps, that has not faded. mr. sheridan, i remember, was just then furnishing a new house, and talked of a plan he had of levying contributions on his friends for a library. a set of books from each would, he calculated, amply accomplish it, and already the intimation of his design had begun to "breathe a soul into the silent walls." [footnote: rogers.] the splendid and well-chosen library of donington was, of course, not slow in furnishing its contingent; and little was it foreseen into what badges of penury these gifts of friendship would be converted at last. as some acknowledgment of the services which sheridan had rendered to the ministry, (though professedly as a tribute to his public character in general,) lord st. vincent, about this time, made an offer to his son, mr. thomas sheridan, of the place of registrar of the vice-admiralty court of malta,--an office which, during a period of war, is supposed to be of considerable emolument. the first impulse of sheridan, when consulted on the proposal, was, as i have heard, not unfavorable to his son's acceptance of it. but, on considering the new position which he had, himself, lately taken in politics, and the inference that might be drawn against the independence of his motives, if he submitted to an obligation which was but too liable to be interpreted, as less a return for past services than a _lien_ upon him for future ones, he thought it safest for his character to sacrifice the advantage, and, desirable as was the provision for his son, obliged him to decline it. the following passages of a letter to him from mrs. sheridan on this subject do the highest honor to her generosity, spirit, and good sense. they also confirm what has generally been understood, that the king, about this time, sent a most gracious message to sheridan, expressive of the approbation with which he regarded his public conduct, and of the pleasure he should feel in conferring upon him some mark of his royal favor:-- "i am more anxious than i can express about tom's welfare. it is, indeed, unfortunate that you have been obliged to refuse these things for him, but surely there could not be two opinions; yet why will you neglect to observe those attentions that honor does not compel you to refuse? don't you know that when once the king takes offence, he was never known to forgive? i suppose it would be impossible to have your motives explained to him, because it would touch his weak side, yet any thing is better than his attributing your refusal to contempt and indifference. would to god i could bear these necessary losses instead of tom, particularly as i so entirely approve of your conduct." "i trust you will be able to do something positive for tom about money. i am willing to make any sacrifice in the world for that purpose, and to live in any way whatever. whatever he has _now ought_ to be certain, or how will he know how to regulate his expenses?" the fate, indeed, of young sheridan was peculiarly tantalizing. born and brought up in the midst of those bright hopes, which so long encircled his father's path, he saw them all die away as he became old enough to profit by them, leaving difficulty and disappointment, his only inheritance, behind. unprovided with any profession by which he could secure his own independence, and shut out, as in this instance, from those means of advancement, which, it was feared, might compromise the independence of his father, he was made the victim even of the distinction of his situation, and paid dearly for the glory of being the son of sheridan. in the expression of his face, he resembled much his beautiful mother, and derived from her also the fatal complaint of which he died. his popularity in society was unexampled,--but he knew how to attach as well as amuse; and, though living chiefly with that class of persons, who pass over the surface of life, like camilla over the corn, without leaving any impression of themselves behind, he had manly and intelligent qualities, that deserved a far better destiny. there are, indeed, few individuals, whose lives have been so gay and thoughtless, whom so many remember with cordiality and interest: and, among the numerous instances of discriminating good nature, by which the private conduct of his royal highness the duke of york is distinguished, there are, none that do him more honor than his prompt and efficient kindness to the interesting family that the son of sheridan has left behind him. soon after the declaration of war against france, when an immediate invasion was threatened by the enemy, the heir apparent, with the true spirit of an english prince, came forward to make an offer of his personal service to the country. a correspondence upon the subject, it is well known, ensued, in the course of which his royal highness addressed letters to mr. addington, to the duke of york, and the king. it has been sometimes stated that these letters were from the pen of mr. sheridan; but the first of the series was written by sir robert wilson, and the remainder by lord hutchinson. the death of joseph richardson, which took place this year, was felt as strongly by sheridan as any thing _can_ be felt, by those who, in the whirl of worldly pursuits, revolve too rapidly round self, to let any thing rest long upon their surface. with a fidelity to his old habits of unpunctuality, at which the shade of richardson might have smiled, he arrived too late at bagshot for the funeral of his friend, but succeeded in persuading the good-natured clergyman to perform the ceremony over again. mr. john taylor, a gentleman, whose love of good-fellowship and wit has made him the welcome associate of some of the brightest men of his day, was one of the assistants at this singular scene, and also joined in the party at the inn at bedfont afterwards, where sheridan, it is said, drained the "cup of memory" to his friend, till he found oblivion at the bottom. at the close of the session of , that strange diversity of opinions, into which the two leading parties were decomposed by the resignation of mr. pitt, had given way to new varieties, both of cohesion and separation, quite as little to be expected from the natural affinities of the ingredients concerned in them. mr. pitt, upon perceiving, in those to whom he had delegated his power, an inclination to surround themselves with such strength from the adverse ranks as would enable them to contest his resumption of the trust, had gradually withdrawn the sanction which he at first afforded them, and taken his station by the side of the other two parties in opposition, without, however, encumbering himself, in his views upon office, with either. by a similar movement, though upon different principles, mr. fox and the whigs, who had begun by supporting the ministry against the strong war-party of which lord grenville and mr. windham were the leaders, now entered into close co-operation with this new opposition, and seemed inclined to forget, both recent and ancient differences in a combined assault upon the tottering administration of mr. addington. the only parties, perhaps, that acted with consistency through these transactions, were mr. sheridan and the few who followed him on one side, and lord grenville and his friends on the other. the support which the former had given to the ministry,--from a conviction that such was the true policy of his party,--he persevered in, notwithstanding the suspicion it drew down upon him, to the last; and, to the last, deprecated the connection with the grenvilles, as entangling his friends in the same sort of hollow partnership, out of which they had come bankrupts in character and confidence before. [footnote: in a letter written this year by mr. thomas sheridan to his father, there is the following passage--"i am glad you intended wrong to lord ----, he is _quite right_ about politics--reprobates the idea most strongly of any union with the granvilles, &c which, he says he sees as fox's leaning. 'i agreed with your father perfectly on the subject, when i left him in town, but when i saw charles at st. ann's hill, i perceived he was wrong and obstinate.'"] in like manner, it must be owned the opposition, of which lord grenville was the head, held a course direct and undeviating from beginning to end. unfettered by those reservations in favor of addington, which so long embarrassed the movements of their former leader, they at once started in opposition to the peace and the ministry, and, with not only mr. pitt and mr. fox, but the whole people of england against them, persevered till they had ranged all these several parties on their side:--nor was it altogether without reason that this party afterwards boasted that, if any abandonment of principle had occurred in the connection between them and the whigs, the surrender was assuredly not from their side. early in the year , on the death of lord elliot, the office of receiver of the duchy of cornwall, which had been held by that nobleman, was bestowed by the prince of wales upon mr. sheridan, "as a trifling proof of that sincere friendship his royal highness had always professed and felt for him through a long series of years." his royal highness also added, in the same communication, the very cordial words, "i wish to god it was better worth your acceptance." the following letter from sheridan to mr. addington, communicating the intelligence of this appointment, shows pretty plainly the terms on which he not only now stood, but was well inclined to continue, with that minister:-- "dear sir, "_george-street, tuesday evening._ "convinced as i am of the sincerity of your good will towards me, i do not regard it as an impertinent intrusion to inform you that the prince has, in the most gracious manner, and wholly unsolicited, been pleased to appoint me to the late lord elliot's situation in the duchy of cornwall. i feel a desire to communicate this to you myself, because i feel a confidence that you will be glad of it. it has been my pride and pleasure to have exerted my humble efforts to serve the prince without ever accepting the slightest obligation from him; but, in the present case, and under the present circumstances, i think it would have been really false pride and apparently mischievous affectation to have declined this mark of his royal highness's confidence and favor. i will not disguise that, at this peculiar crisis, i am greatly gratified at this event. had it been the result of a mean and subservient devotion to the prince's every wish and object, i could neither have respected the gift, the giver, nor myself; but when i consider how recently it was my misfortune to find myself compelled by a sense of duty, stronger than my attachment to him, wholly to risk the situation i held in his confidence and favor, and that upon a subject [footnote: the offer made by the prince of his personal services in ,--on which occasion sheridan coincided with the views of mr. addington somewhat more than was agreeable to his royal highness.] on which his feelings were so eager and irritable, i cannot but regard the increased attention, with which he has since honored me, as a most gratifying demonstration that he has clearness of judgment and firmness of spirit to distinguish the real friends to his true glory and interests from the mean and mercenary sycophants, who fear and abhor that such friends should be near him. it is satisfactory to me, also, that this appointment gives me the title and opportunity of seeing the prince, on trying occasions, openly and in the face of day, and puts aside the mask of mystery and concealment. i trust i need not add, that whatever small portion of fair influence i may at any time possess with the prince, it shall be uniformly exerted to promote those feelings of duty and affection towards their majesties, which, though seemingly interrupted by adverse circumstances, i am sure are in his heart warm and unalterable--and, as far as i may presume, that general concord throughout his illustrious family, which must be looked to by every honest subject, as an essential part of the public strength at this momentous period. i have the honor to be, with great respect and esteem, "your obedient servant, "_right hon. henry addington_. "r. b. sheridan." the same views that influenced mr. sheridan, lord moira, and others, in supporting an administration which, with all its defects, they considered preferable to a relapse into the hands of mr. pitt, had led mr. tierney, at the close of the last session, to confer upon it a still more efficient sanction, by enrolling himself in its ranks as treasurer of the navy. in the early part of the present year, another ornament of the whig party, mr. erskine, was on the point of following in the same footsteps, by accepting, from mr. addington, the office of attorney-general. he had, indeed, proceeded so far in his intention as to submit the overtures of the minister to the consideration of the prince, in a letter which was transmitted to his royal highness by sheridan. the answer of the prince, conveyed also through sheridan, while it expressed the most friendly feelings towards erskine, declined, at the same time, giving any opinion as to either his acceptance or refusal of the office of attorney-general, if offered to him under the present circumstances. his royal highness also added the expression of his sincere regret, that a proposal of this nature should have been submitted to his consideration by one, of whose attachment and fidelity to himself he was well convinced, but who ought to have felt, from the line of conduct adopted and persevered in by his royal highness, that he was the very last person that should have been applied to for either his opinion or countenance respecting the political conduct or connection of any public character,--especially of one so intimately connected with him, and belonging to his family. if, at any time, sheridan had entertained the idea of associating himself, by office, with the ministry of mr. addington, (and proposals to this effect were, it is certain, made to him,) his knowledge of the existence of such feelings as prompted this answer to mr. erskine would, of course, have been sufficient to divert him from the intention. the following document, which i have found, in his own handwriting, and which was intended, apparently, for publication in the newspapers, contains some particulars with respect to the proceedings of his party at this time, which, coming from such a source, may be considered as authentic:-- "state of parties. "among the various rumors of coalitions, or attempted coalitions, we have already expressed our disbelief in that reported to have taken place between the grenville-windhamites and mr. fox. at least, if it was ever in negotiation, we have reason to think it received an early check, arising from a strong party of the _old opposition_ protesting against it. the account of this transaction, as whispered in the political circles, is as follows:-- "in consequence of some of the most respectable members of the old opposition being sounded on the subject, a meeting was held at norfolk-house; when it was determined, with very few dissentient voices, to present a friendly remonstrance on the subject to mr. fox, stating the manifold reasons which obviously presented themselves against such a procedure, both as affecting character and party. it was urged that the present ministers had, on the score of innovation on the constitution, given the whigs no pretence for complaint whatever; and, as to their alleged incapacity, it remained to be proved that they were capable of committing errors and producing miscarriages, equal to those which had marked the councils of their predecessors, whom the measure in question was expressly calculated to replace in power. at such a momentous crisis, therefore, waving all considerations of past political provocation, to attempt, by the strength and combination of party, to expel the ministers of his majesty's choice, and to force into his closet those whom the whigs ought to be the first to rejoice that he had excluded from it, was stated to be a proceeding which would assuredly revolt the public feeling, degrade the character of parliament, and produce possibly incalculable mischief to the country. "we understand that mr. fox's reply was, that he would never take any political step against the wishes and advice of the majority of his old friends. "the paper is said to have been drawn up by mr. erskine, and to have been presented to mr. fox by his grace of norfolk, on the day his majesty was pronounced to be recovered from his first illness. rumor places among the supporters of this measure the written authority of the duke of northumberland and the earl of moira, with the signatures of messrs. erskine, sheridan, shum, curwen, western, brogden, and a long _et caetera_. it is said also that the prince's sanction had been previously given to the duke,--his royal highness deprecating all party struggle, at a moment when the defence of all that is dear to britons ought to be the single sentiment that should fill the public mind. "we do not vouch for the above being strictly accurate; but we are confident that it is not far from the truth." the illness of the king, referred to in this paper, had been first publicly announced in the month of february, and was for some time considered of so serious a nature, that arrangements were actually in progress for the establishment of a regency. mr. sheridan, who now formed a sort of connecting link between carlton-house and the minister, took, of course, a leading part in the negotiations preparatory to such a measure. it appears, from a letter of mr. fox on the subject, that the prince and another person, whom it is unnecessary to name, were at one moment not a little alarmed by a rumor of an intention to associate the duke of york and the queen in the regency. mr. fox, however, begs of sheridan to tranquillize their minds on this point:--the intentions, (he adds,) of "the doctor," [footnote: to the infliction of this nickname on his friend, mr. addington, sheridan was, in no small degree, accessory, by applying to those who disapproved of his administration, and yet gave no reasons for their disapprobation, the well-known lines,-- "i do not love thee, doctor fell, and why i cannot tell; but this i know full well, i do not love thee, doctor fell."] though bad enough in all reason, do not go to such lengths; and a proposal of this nature, from any other quarter, could be easily defeated. within about two months from the date of the remonstrance, which, according to a statement already given, was presented to mr. fox by his brother whigs, one of the consequences which it prognosticated from the connection of their party with the grenvilles took place, in the resignation of mr. addington and the return of mr. pitt to power. the confidence of mr. pitt, in thus taking upon himself, almost single-handed, the government of the country at such an awful crisis, was, he soon perceived, not shared by the public. a general expectation had prevailed that the three great parties, which had lately been encamped together on the field of opposition, would have each sent its chiefs into the public councils, and thus formed such a congress of power and talent as the difficulties of the empire, in that trying moment, demanded. this hope had been frustrated by the repugnance of the king to mr. fox, and the too ready facility with which mr. pitt had given way to it. not only, indeed, in his undignified eagerness for office, did he sacrifice without stipulation the important question, which, but two years before, had been made the _sine-qua non_ of his services, but, in yielding so readily to the royal prejudices against his rival, he gave a sanction to that unconstitutional principle of exclusion, [footnote: "this principle of personal exclusion, (said lord grenville,) is one of which i never can approve, because, independently of its operation to prevent parliament and the people from enjoying the administration they desired, and which it was their particular interest to have, it tends to establish a dangerous precedent, that would afford too much opportunity of private pique against the public interest. i, for one, therefore, refused to connect myself with any one argument that should sanction that principle; and, in my opinion, every man who accepted office under that administration is, according to the letter and spirit of the constitution, responsible for its character and construction, and the principle upon which it is founded."--_speech of lord grenville on the motion of lord darnley for the repeal of the additional force bill, feb. , ._] which, if thus acted upon by the party-feelings of the monarch, would soon narrow the throne into the mere nucleus of a favored faction. in allowing, too, his friends and partisans to throw the whole blame of this exclusive ministry on the king, he but repeated the indecorum of which he had been guilty in . for, having at that time made use of the religious prejudices of the monarch, as a pretext for his manner of quitting office, he now employed the political prejudices of the same personage, as an equally convenient excuse for his manner of returning to it. a few extracts from the speech of mr. sheridan upon the additional force bill,--the only occasion on which he seems to have spoken during the present year,--will show that the rarity of his displays was not owing to any failure of power, but rather, perhaps, to the increasing involvement of his circumstances, which left no time for the thought and preparation that all his public efforts required. mr. pitt had, at the commencement of this year, condescended to call to his aid the co-operation of mr. addington, lord buckinghamshire, and other members of that administration, which had withered away, but a few months before, under the blight of his sarcasm and scorn. in alluding to this coalition, sheridan says-- "the right honorable gentleman went into office alone;--but, lest the government should become too full of vigor from his support, he thought proper to beckon back some of the weakness of the former administration. he, i suppose, thought that the ministry became, from his support, like spirits above proof, and required to be diluted; that, like gold refined to a certain degree, it would be unfit for use without a certain mixture of alloy; that the administration would be too brilliant, and dazzle the house, unless he called back a certain part of the mist and fog of the last administration to render it tolerable to the eye. as to the great change made in the ministry by the introduction of the right honorable gentleman himself, i would ask, does he imagine that he came back to office with the same estimation that he left it? i am sure he is much mistaken if he fancies that he did. the right honorable gentleman retired from office because, as was stated, he could not carry an important question, which he deemed necessary to satisfy the just claims of the catholics; and in going out he did not hesitate to tear off the sacred veil of majesty, describing his sovereign as the only person that stood in the way of this desirable object. after the right honorable gentleman's retirement, he advised the catholics to look to no one but him for the attainment of their rights, and cautiously to abstain from forming a connection with any other person. but how does it appear, now that the right honorable gentleman is returned to office? he declines to perform his promise; and has received, as his colleagues in office, those who are pledged to resist the measure. does not the right honorable gentleman then feel that he comes back to office with a character degraded by the violation of a solemn pledge, given to a great and respectable body of the people, upon a particular and momentous occasion? does the right honorable gentleman imagine either that he returns to office with the same character for political wisdom, after the description which he gave of the talents and capacity of his predecessors, and after having shown, by his own actions, that his description was totally unfounded?" in alluding to lord melville's appointment to the admiralty; he says,-- "but then, i am told, there is the first lord of the admiralty,--'do you forget the leader of the grand catamaran project? are you not aware of the important change in that department, and the advantage the country is likely to derive from that change?' why, i answer, that i do not know of any peculiar qualifications the noble lord has to preside over the admiralty; but i do know, that if i were to judge of him from the kind of capacity he evinced while minister of war, i should entertain little hopes of him. if, however, the right honorable gentleman should say to me, 'where else would you put that noble lord, would you have him appointed war-minister again?' i should say, oh no, by no means,--i remember too well the expeditions to toulon, to quiberon, to corsica, and to holland, the responsibility for each of which the noble lord took on himself, entirely releasing from any responsibility the commander in chief and the secretary at war. i also remember that, which, although so glorious to our arms in the result, i still shall call a most unwarrantable project.--the expedition to egypt. it may be said, that as the noble lord was so unfit for the military department, the naval was the proper place for him. perhaps there wore people who would adopt this whimsical reasoning. i remember a story told respecting mr. garrick, who was once applied to by an eccentric scotchman, to introduce a production of his on the stage. this scotchman was such a good-humored fellow, that he was called 'honest johnny m'cree.' johnny wrote four acts of a tragedy, which he showed to mr. garrick, who dissuaded him from finishing it; telling him that his talent did not lie that way; so johnny abandoned the tragedy, and set about writing a comedy. when this was finished, he showed it to mr. garrick, who found it to be still more exceptionable than the tragedy, and of course could not be persuaded to bring it forward on the stage. this surprised poor johnny, and he remonstrated. 'nay, now, david, (said johnny,) did you not tell me my talents did not lie in tragedy?'--'yes, (replied garrick,) but i did not tell you that they lay in comedy.'--'then, (exclaimed johnny,) gin they dinna lie there, where the de'il dittha lie, mon?' unless the noble lord at the head of the admiralty has the same reasoning in his mind as johnny m'cree, he cannot possibly suppose that his incapacity for the direction of the war-department necessarily qualifies him for the presidency of the naval. perhaps, if the noble lord be told that he has no talents for the latter, his lordship may exclaim with honest johnny m'cree, 'gin they dinna lie there, where the de'il dittha lie, mon?'" on the th of may, the claims of the roman catholics of ireland, were, for the first time, brought under the notice of the imperial parliament, by lord grenville in the house of lords, and by mr. fox in the house of commons. a few days before the debate, as appears, by the following remarkable letter, mr. sheridan was made the medium of a communication from carlton house, the object of which was to prevent mr. fox from presenting the petition. "dear sheridan, "i did not receive your letter till last night. "i did, on thursday, consent to be the presenter of the catholic petition, at the request of the delegates, and had further conversation on the subject with them at lord grenville's yesterday morning. lord grenville also consented to present the petition to the house of lords. now, therefore, any discussion on this part of the subject would be too late; but i will fairly own, that, if it were not, i could not be dissuaded from doing the public act, which, of all others, it will give me the greatest satisfaction and pride to perform. no past event in my political life ever did, and no future one ever can, give me such pleasure. "i am sure you know how painful it would be to me to disobey any command of his royal highness's, or even to act in any manner that might be in the slightest degree contrary to his wishes, and therefore i am not sorry that your intimation came too late. i shall endeavor to see the prince today; but, if i should fail, pray take care that he knows how things stand before we meet at dinner, lest any conversation there should appear to come upon him by surprise. "yours ever, _"arlington street, sunday,_ "c. j. f." it would be rash, without some further insight into the circumstances of this singular interference, to enter into any speculations with respect to its nature or motives, or to pronounce how far mr. sheridan was justified in being the instrument of it. but on the share of mr. fox in the transaction, such suspension of opinion is unnecessary. we have here his simple and honest words before us,--and they breathe a spirit of sincerity from which even princes might take a lesson with advantage. mr. pitt was not long in discovering that place does not always imply power, and that in separating himself from the other able men of the day, he had but created an opposition as much too strong for the government, as the government itself was too weak for the country. the humiliating resource to which he was driven, in trying, as a tonic, the reluctant alliance of lord sidmouth,--the abortiveness of his efforts to avert the full of his old friend, lord melville, and the fatality of ill luck that still attended his exertions against france,--all concurred to render this reign of the once powerful minister a series of humiliations, shifts, and disasters, unlike his former proud period in every thing but ill success. the powerful coalition opposed to him already had a prospect of carrying by storm the post which he occupied, when, by his death, it was surrendered, without parley, into their hands. the administration that succeeded, under the auspices of lord greville and mr. fox, bore a resemblance to the celebrated brass of corinth, more, perhaps, in the variety of the metals brought together, than in the perfection of the compound that resulted from their fusion. [footnote: see in the annual register of , some able remarks upon coalitions in general, as well as a temperate defence of this coalition in particular,--for which that work is, i suspect, indebted to a hand such as has not often, since the time of burke, enriched its pages.] there were comprised in it, indeed, not only the two great parties of the leading chiefs, but those whigs who differed with them both under the addington ministry, and the addingtons that differed with them all on the subject of the catholic claims. with this last anomalous addition to the miscellany the influence of sheridan is mainly chargeable. having, for some time past, exerted all his powers of management to bring about a coalition between carlton-house and lord sidmouth, he had been at length so successful, that upon the formation of the present ministry, it was the express desire of the prince that lord sidmouth should constitute a part of it. to the same unlucky influence, too, is to be traced the very questionable measure, (notwithstanding the great learning and ability with which it was defended,) of introducing the chief justice, lord ellenborough, into the cabinet. as to sheridan's own share in the arrangements, it was, no doubt, expected by him that he should now be included among the members of the cabinet; and it is probable that mr. fox, at the head of a purely whig ministry, would have so far considered the services of his ancient ally, and the popularity still attached to his name through the country, as to confer upon him this mark of distinction and confidence. but there were other interests to be consulted;--and the undisguised earnestness with which sheridan had opposed the union of his party with the grenvilles, left him but little supererogation of services to expect in that quarter. some of his nearest friends, and particularly mrs. sheridan, entreated, as i understand, in the most anxious manner, that he would not accept any such office as that of treasurer of the navy, for the responsibility and business of which they knew his habits so wholly unfitted him,--but that, if excluded by his colleagues from the distinction of a seat in the cabinet, he should decline all office whatsoever, and take his chance in a friendly independence of them. but the time was now past when he could afford to adopt this policy,--the emoluments of a place were too necessary to him to be rejected;--and, in accepting the same office that had been allotted to him in the regency--arrangements of , he must have felt, with no small degree of mortification, how stationary all his efforts since then had left him, and what a blank was thus made of all his services in the interval. the period of this ministry, connected with the name of mr. fox, though brief, and in some respects, far from laudable, was distinguished by two measures,--the plan of limited service, and the resolution for the abolition of the slave-trade,--which will long be remembered to the honor of those concerned in them. the motion of mr. fox against the slave-trade was the last he ever made in parliament;--and the same sort of melancholy admiration that pliny expressed, in speaking of a beautiful picture, the painter of which had died in finishing it,--"dolor manas dum id ageret, abreptae"--comes naturally over our hearts in thinking of the last, glorious work, to which this illustrious statesman, in dying, set his hand. though it is not true, as has been asserted, that mr. fox refused to see sheridan in his last illness, it is but too certain that those appearances of alienation or reserve, which had been for some time past observable in the former, continued to throw a restraint over their intercourse with each other to the last. it is a proof, however, of the absence of any serious grounds for this distrust, that sheridan as the person selected by the relatives of mr. fox to preside over and direct the arrangements of the funeral, and that he put the last, solemn seal to their long intimacy, by following his friend, as mourner, to the grave. the honor of representing the city of westminster in parliament had been, for some time, one of the dreams of sheridan's ambition. it was suspected, indeed,--i know not with what justice,--that in advising mr. fox, as he is said to have done, about the year , to secede from public life altogether, he was actuated by a wish to succeed him in the representation of westminster, and had even already set on foot some private negotiations towards that object. whatever grounds there may have been for this suspicion, the strong wish that he felt on the subject had long been sufficiently known to his colleagues; and on the death of mr. fox, it appeared, not only to himself, but the public, that he was the person naturally pointed out as most fit to be his parliamentary successor. it was, therefore, with no slight degree of disappointment he discovered, that the ascendancy of aristocratic influence was, as usual, to prevail, and that the young son of the duke of northumberland would be supported by the government in preference to him, it is but right, however, in justice to the ministry, to state, that the neglect with which they appear to have treated him on this occasion,--particularly in not apprising him of their decision in favor of lord percy, sufficiently early to save him from the humiliation of a fruitless attempt,--is proved, by the following letters, to have originated in a double misapprehension, by which, while sheridan, on one side, was led to believe that the ministers would favor his pretensions, the ministers, on the other, were induced to think that he had given up all intentions of being a candidate. the first letter is addressed to the gentleman, (one of sheridan's intimate friends,) who seems to have been, unintentionally, the cause of the mistake on both sides. "dear ----, "_somerset-place, september ._ "you must have seen by my manner, yesterday, how much i was surprised and hurt at learning, for the first time, that lord grenville had, many days previous to mr. fox's death, decided to support lord percy on the expected vacancy for westminster, and that you had since been the active agent in the canvass actually commenced. i do not like to think i have grounds to complain or change my opinion of any friend, without being very explicit, and opening my mind, without reserve, on such a subject. i must frankly declare, that i think you have brought yourself and me into a very unpleasant dilemma. you seemed to say, last night, that you had not been apprised of my intention to offer for westminster on the apprehended vacancy. i am confident you have acted under that impression; but i must impute to you either great inattention to what fell from me in our last conversation on the subject, or great inaccuracy of recollection; for i solemnly protest i considered you as the individual most distinctly apprised, that at this moment to succeed that great man and revered friend in westminster, should the fatal event take place, would be the highest object of my ambition; for, in that conversation i thanked you expressly for informing me that lord grenville had said to yourself, upon lord percy being suggested to him, that he, lord grenville, '_would decide on nothing until mr. sheridan had been spoken to, and his intentions known_' or words precisely to that effect. i expressed my grateful sense of lord grenville's attention, and said, that it would confirm me in my intention of making no application, however hopeless myself respecting mr. fox, while life remained with him,--and these words of lord grenville you allowed last night to have been so stated to me, though not as a message from his lordship. since that time i think we have not happened to meet; at least sure i am, we have had no conversation on the subject. having the highest opinion of lord grenville's honor and sincerity, i must be confident that he must have had another impression made on his mind respecting my wishes before i was entirely passed by. i do not mean to say that my offering myself was immediately to entitle me to the support of government, but i do mean to say, that my pretensions were entitled to consideration before that support was offered to another without the slightest notice taken of me,--the more especially as the words of lord grenville, reported by you to me, had been stated by me to many friends as my reliance and justification in not following their advice by making a direct application to government. i pledged myself to them that lord grenville would not promise the support of government till my intentions had been asked, and i quoted your authority for doing so: i never heard a syllable of that support being promised to lord percy until from you on the evening of mr. fox's death. did i ever authorize you to inform lord grenville that i had abandoned the idea of offering myself? these are points which it is necessary, for the honor of all parties, should be amicably explained. i therefore propose, as the shortest way of effecting it,--wishing you not to consider this letter as in any degree confidential,--that my statements in this letter may be submitted to any two common friends, or to the lord chancellor alone, and let it be ascertained where the error has arisen, for error is all i complain of; and, with regard to lord grenville, i desire distinctly to say, that i feel myself indebted for the fairness and kindness of his intentions towards me. my disappointment of the protection of government may be a sufficient excuse to the friends i am pledged to, should i retire; but i must have it understood whether or not i deceived them, when i led them to expect that i should have that support. "i hope to remain ever yours sincerely, "r. b. sheridan. "the sooner the reference i propose the better." the second letter, which is still further explanatory of the misconception, was addressed by sheridan to lord grenville: "my dear lord, "since i had the honor of your lordship's letter, i have received one from mr. ----, in which, i am sorry to observe he is silent as to my offer of meeting, in the presence of a third person, in order to ascertain whether he did or not so report a conversation with your lordship as to impress on my mind a belief that my pretensions would be considered, before the support of government should be pledged elsewhere. instead of this, he not only does not admit the precise words quoted by me, but does not state what he allows he did say. if he denies that he ever gave me reason to adopt the belief i have stated, be it so; but the only stipulation i have made is that we should come to an explicit understanding on this subject,--not with a view to quoting words or repeating names, but that the misapprehension, whatever it was, may be so admitted as not to leave me under an unmerited degree of discredit and disgrace. mr. ---- certainly never encouraged me to stand for westminster, but, on the contrary, advised me to support lord percy, which made me the more mark at the time the fairness with which i thought he apprised me of the preference my pretensions were likely to receive in your lordship's consideration. "unquestionably your lordship's recollection of what passed between mr. ---- and yourself must be just; and were it no more than what you said on the same subject to lord howick, i consider it as a mark of attention; but what has astonished me is, that mr. ---- should ever have informed your lordship, as he admits he did, that i had no intention of offering myself. this naturally must have put from your mind whatever degree of disposition was there to have made a preferable application to me; and lord howick's answer to your question, on which i have ventured to make a friendly remonstrance, must have confirmed mr. ----'s report. but allow me to suppose that i had myself seen your lordship, and that you had explicitly promised me the support of government, and had afterwards sent for me and informed me that it was at all an object to you that i should give way to lord percy, i assure you, with the utmost sincerity, that i should cheerfully have withdrawn myself, and applied every interest i possessed as your lordship should have directed. "all i request is, that what passed between me and mr. ---- may take an intelligible shape before any common friend, or before your lordship. this i conceive to be a preliminary due to my own honor, and what he ought not to evade." the address which he delivered, at the crown and anchor tavern, in declining the offer of support which many of the electors still pressed upon him, contains some of those touches of personal feeling which a biographer is more particularly bound to preserve. in speaking of mr. fox, he said,-- "it is true there have been occasions upon which i have differed with him --painful recollections of the most painful moments of my political life! nor were there wanting those who endeavored to represent these differences as a departure from the homage which his superior mind, though unclaimed by him, was entitled to, and from the allegiance of friendship which our hearts all swore to him. but never was the genuine and confiding texture of his soul more manifest than on such occasions; he knew that nothing on earth could detach me from him; and he resented insinuations against the sincerity and integrity of a friend, which he would not have noticed had they been pointed against himself. with such a man to have battled in the cause of genuine liberty,--with such a man to have struggled against the inroads of oppression and corruption,--with such an example before me, to have to boast that i never in my life gave one vote in parliament that was not on the side of freedom, is the congratulation that attends the retrospect of my public life. his friendship was the pride and honor of my days. i never, for one moment, regretted to share with him the difficulties, the calumnies, and sometimes even the dangers, that attended an honorable course. and now, reviewing my past political life, were the option possible that i should retread the path. i solemnly and deliberately declare that i would prefer to pursue the same course; to bear up under the same pressure; to abide by the same principles; and remain by his side an exile from power, distinction, and emolument, rather than be at this moment a splendid example of successful servility or prosperous apostacy, though clothed with power, honor, titles, gorged with sinecures, and lord of hoards obtained from the plunder of the people." at the conclusion of his address he thus alludes, with evidently a deep feeling of discontent, to the circumstances that had obliged him to decline the honor now proposed to him:-- "illiberal warnings have been held out, most unauthoritatively i know, that by persevering in the present contest i may risk my official situation, and if i retire, i am aware, that minds, as coarse and illiberal, may assign the dread of that as my motive. to such insinuations i shall scorn to make any other reply than a reference to the whole of my past political career. i consider it as no boast to say, that any one who has struggled through such a portion of life as i have, without obtaining an office, is not likely to i abandon his principles to retain one when acquired. if riches do not give independence, the next-best thing to being very rich is to have been used to be very poor. but independence is not allied to wealth, to birth, to rank, to power, to titles, or to honor. independence is in the mind of a man, or it is no where. on this ground were i to decline the contest, should scorn the imputation that should bring the purity of my purpose into doubt. no minister can expect to find in me a servile vassal. no minister can expect from me the abandonment of any principle i have avowed, or any pledge i have given. i know not that i have hitherto shrunk in place from opinions i have maintained while in opposition. did there exist a minister of a different cast from any i know in being, were he to attempt to exact from me a different conduct, my office should be at his service tomorrow. such a minister might strip me of my situation, in some respects of considerable emolument, but he could not strip me of the proud conviction that i was right; he could not strip me of my own self-esteem; he could not strip me, i think, of some portion of the confidence and good opinion of the people. but i am noticing the calumnious threat i allude to more than it deserves. there can be no peril, i venture to assert, under the present government, in the free exercise of discretion, such as belongs to the present question. i therefore disclaim the merit of putting anything to hazard. if i have missed the opportunity of obtaining all the support i might, perhaps, have had on the present occasion, from a very scrupulous delicacy, which i think became and was incumbent upon me, but which i by no means conceive to have been a fit rule for others, i cannot repent it. while the slightest aspiration of breath passed those lips, now closed for ever,--while one drop of life's blood beat in that heart, now cold for ever,--i could not, i ought not, to have acted otherwise than i did.--i now come with a very embarrassed feeling to that declaration which i yet think you must have expected from me, but which i make with reluctance, because, from the marked approbation i have experienced from you, i fear that with reluctance you will receive it.--i feel myself under the necessity of retiring from this contest." about three weeks after, ensued the dissolution of parliament,--a measure attended with considerable unpopularity to the ministry, and originating as much in the enmity of one of its members to lord sidmouth, as the introduction of that noble lord among them, at all, was owing to the friendship of another. in consequence of this event, lord percy having declined offering himself again, mr. sheridan became a candidate for westminster, and after a most riotous contest with a demagogue of the moment, named paul, was, together with sir samuel hood, declared duly elected. the moderate measure in favor of the roman catholics, which the ministry now thought it due to the expectations of that body to bring forward, was, as might be expected, taken advantage of by the king to rid himself of their counsels, and produced one of those bursts of bigotry, by which the people of england have so often disgraced themselves. it is sometimes a misfortune to men of wit, that they put their opinions in a form to be remembered. we might, perhaps, have been ignorant of the keen, but worldly view which mr. sheridan, on this occasion, took of the hardihood of his colleagues, if he had not himself expressed it in a form so portable to the memory. "he had often," he said, "heard of people knocking out their brains against a wall, but never before knew of any one building a wall expressly for the purpose." it must be owned, indeed, that, though far too sagacious and liberal not to be deeply impressed with the justice of the claims advanced by the catholics, he was not altogether disposed to go those generous lengths in their favor, of which mr. fox and a few others of their less calculating friends were capable. it was his avowed opinion, that, though the measure, whenever brought forward, should be supported and enforced by the whole weight of the party, they ought never so far to identify or encumber themselves with it, as to make its adoption a sine-qua-non of their acceptance or retention of office. his support, too, of the ministry of mr. addington, which was as virtually pledged against the catholics as that which now succeeded to power, sufficiently shows the secondary station that this great question occupied in his mind; nor can such a deviation from the usual tone of his political feelings be otherwise accounted for, than by supposing that he was aware of the existence of a strong indisposition to the measure in that quarter, by whose views and wishes his public conduct was, in most cases, regulated. on the general question, however, of the misgovernment of ireland, and the disabilities of the catholics, as forming its most prominent feature, his zeal was always forthcoming and ardent,--and never more so than during the present session, when, on the question of the irish arms bill, and his own motion upon the state of ireland, he distinguished himself by an animation and vigor worthy of the best period of his eloquence. mr. grattan, in supporting the coercive measures now adopted against his country, had shown himself, for once, alarmed into a concurrence with the wretched system of governing by insurrection acts, and, for once, lent his sanction to the principle upon which all such measures are founded, namely, that of enabling power to defend itself against the consequences of its own tyranny and injustice. in alluding to some expressions used by this great man, sheridan said:-- "he now happened to recollect what was said by a right honorable gentleman, to whose opinions they all deferred, (mr. grattan,) that notwithstanding he voted for the present measure, with all its defects, rather than lose it altogether, yet that gentleman said, that he hoped to secure the revisionary interest of the constitution to ireland. but when he saw that the constitution was suspended from the year to the present period, and that it was now likely to be continued for three years longer, the danger was that we might lose the interest altogether;--when we were mortgaged for such a length of time, at last a foreclosure might take place." the following is an instance of that happy power of applying old stories, for which mr. windham, no less than sheridan, was remarkable, and which, by promoting anecdote into the service of argument and wit, ennobles it, when trivial, and gives new youth to it, when old. "when they and others complain of the discontents of the irish, they never appear to consider the cause. when they express their surprise that the irish are not contented, while according to their observation, that people have so much reason to be happy, they betray a total ignorance of their actual circumstances. the fact is, that the tyranny practised upon the irish has been throughout unremitting. there has been no change but in the manner of inflicting it. they have had nothing but variety in oppression, extending to all ranks and degrees of a certain description of the people. if you would know what this varied oppression consisted in, i refer you to the penal statutes you have repealed, and to some of those which still exist. there you will see the high and the low equally subjected to the lash of persecution; and yet still some persons affect to be astonished at the discontents of the irish. but with all my reluctance to introduce any thing ludicrous upon so serious an occasion, i cannot help referring to a little story which those very astonished persons call to my mind. it was with respect to an irish drummer, who was employed to inflict punishment upon a soldier. when the boy struck high, the poor soldier exclaimed, 'lower, bless you,' with which the boy complied. but soon after the soldier exclaimed, 'higher if you please,' but again he called out, 'a little lower:' upon which the accommodating boy addressed him--'now, upon my conscience, i see you are a discontented man; for, strike where i may, there's no pleasing you.' now your complaint of the discontents of the irish appears to me quite as rational, while you continue to strike, only altering the place of attack." upon this speech, which may be considered as the _bouquet_, or last parting blaze of his eloquence, he appears to have bestowed considerable care and thought. the concluding sentences of the following passage, though in his very worst taste, were as anxiously labored by him, and put through as many rehearsals on paper, as any of the most highly finished witticisms in the school for scandal. "i cannot think patiently of such petty squabbles, while bonaparte is grasping the nations; while he is surrounding france, not with that iron frontier, for which the wish and childish ambition of louis xiv. was so eager, but with kingdoms of his own creation; securing the gratitude of higher minds as the hostage, and the fears of others as pledges for his safety. his are no ordinary fortifications. his martello towers are thrones; sceptres tipt with crowns are the palisadoes of his entrenchments, and kings are his sentinels." the reporter here, by "tipping" the sceptres "with crowns," has improved, rather unnecessarily, upon the finery of the original. the following are specimens of the various trials of this passage which i find scribbled over detached scraps of paper:-- "contrast the different attitudes and occupations of the two governments:--b. eighteen months from his capital,--head-quarters in the villages,--neither berlin nor warsaw,--dethroning and creating thrones,-- the works he raises are monarchies,--sceptres his palisadoes, thrones his martello towers." "commissioning kings,--erecting thrones,--martello towers,--cambaceres count noses,--austrians, fine dressed, like pompey's troops." "b. fences with sceptres,--his martello towers are thrones,--he alone is, france." another dissolution of parliament having taken place this year, he again became a candidate for the city of westminster. but, after a violent contest, during which he stood the coarse abuse of the mob with the utmost good humor and playfulness, the election ended in favor of sir francis burdett and lord cochrane, and sheridan was returned, with his friend mr. michael angelo taylor, for the borough of ilchester. in the autumn of he had conceived some idea of leasing the property of drury-lane theatre, and with that view had set on foot, through mr. michael kelly, who was then in ireland, a negotiation with mr. frederick jones, the proprietor of the dublin theatre. in explaining his object to mr. kelly, in a letter dated august , , he describes it as "a plan by which the property may be leased to those who have the skill and the industry to manage it as it should be for their own advantage, upon terms which would render any risk to them almost impossible;--the profit to them, (he adds,) would probably be beyond what i could now venture to state, and yet upon terms which would be much better for the real proprietors than any thing that can arise from the careless and ignorant manner in which the undertaking is now misconducted by those who, my son excepted, have no interest in its success, and who lose nothing by its failure." the negotiation with mr. jones was continued into the following year; and, according to a draft of agreement, which this gentleman has been kind enough to show me, in sheridan's handwriting, it was intended that mr. jones should, on becoming proprietor of one quarter-share of the property, "undertake the management of the theatre in conjunction with mr. t. sheridan, and be entitled to the same remuneration, namely, £. per annum certain income, and a certain per centage on the net profits arising from the office-receipts, as should be agreed upon," &c. &c. the following memorandum of a bet connected with this transaction, is of somewhat a higher class of wagers than the one tun tavern has often had the honor of recording among its archives:-- "_one tun, st. james's market, may , ._" "in the presence of messrs. g. ponsonby, r. power, and mr. becher, [footnote: it is not without a deep feeling of melancholy that i transcribe this paper. of three of my most valued friends,--whose names are signed to it,--becher, ponsonby, and power,--the last has, within a few short months, been snatched away, leaving behind him the recollection of as many gentle and manly virtues as ever concurred to give sweetness and strength to character.] mr. jones bets mr. sheridan five hundred guineas that he, mr. sheridan, does not write, and produce under his name, a play of five acts, or a first piece of three, within the term of three years from the th of september next.--it is distinctly to be understood that this bet is not valid unless mr. jones becomes a partner in drury-lane theatre before the commencement of the ensuing season. "richard power, "r. b. sheridan, "george ponsonby, "fred. edw. jones. "w. w. becher. "n. b.--w. w. becher and richard power join, one fifty,--the other one hundred pounds in this bet. "r. power." the grand movement of spain, in the year , which led to consequences so important to the rest of europe, though it has left herself as enslaved and priest-ridden as ever, was hailed by sheridan with all that prompt and well-timed ardor, with which he alone, of all his party, knew how to meet such great occasions. had his political associates but learned from his example thus to place themselves in advance of the procession of events, they would not have had the triumphal wheels pass by them and over them so frequently. immediately on the arrival of the deputies from spain, he called the attention of the house to the affairs of that country; and his speech on the subject, though short and unstudied, had not only the merit of falling in with the popular feeling at the moment, but, from the views which it pointed out through the bright opening now made by spain, was every way calculated to be useful both at home and abroad. "let spain," he said, "see, that we were not inclined to stint the services we had it in our power to render her; that we were not actuated by the desire of any petty advantage to ourselves; but that our exertions were to be solely directed to the attainment of the grand and general object, the emancipation of the world. if the flame were once fairly caught, our success was certain. france would then find, that she had hitherto been contending only against principalities, powers, and authorities, but that she had now to contend against a people." the death of lord lake this year removed those difficulties which had, ever since the appointment of sheridan to the receivership of the duchy of cornwall, stood in the way of his reaping the full advantages of that office. previously to the departure of general lake for india, the prince had granted to him the reversion of this situation which was then filled by lord elliot. it was afterwards, however, discovered that, according to the terms of the grant, the place could not be legally held or deputed by any one who had not been actually sworn into it before the prince's council. on the death of lord elliot, therefore, his royal highness thought himself authorized, as we have seen, in conferring the appointment upon mr. sheridan. this step, however, was considered by the friends of general lake as not only a breach of promise, but a violation of right; and it would seem from one of the documents which i am about to give, that measures were even in train for enforcing the claim by law. the first is a letter on the subject from sheridan to colonel m'mahon:-- "my dear m'mahon, "_thursday evening_. "i have thoroughly considered and reconsidered the subject we talked upon today. nothing on earth shall make me risk the possibility of the prince's goodness to me furnishing an opportunity for a single scurrilous fool's presuming to hint even that he had, in the slightest manner, departed from the slightest engagement. the prince's right, in point of law and justice, on the present occasion to recall the appointment given, i hold to be incontestible; but, believe me, i am right in the proposition i took the liberty of submitting to his royal highness, and which (so far is he from wishing to hurt general lake,) he graciously approved. but understand me,--my meaning is to give i up the emoluments of the situation to general lake, holding the situation at the prince's pleasure, and abiding by an arbitrated estimate of general lake's claim, supposing his royal highness had appointed him; in other words, to value his interest in the appointment as if he had it, and to pay him for it or resign to him. "with the prince's permission i should be glad to meet mr. warwick lake, and i am confident that no two men of common sense and good intentions can fail, in ten minutes, to arrange it so as to meet the prince's wishes, and not to leave the shadow of a pretence for envious malignity to whisper a word against his decision. "yours ever, "r. b. sheridan. "i write in great haste--going to a----." the other paper that i shall give, as throwing light on the transaction, is a rough and unfinished sketch by sheridan of a statement, intended to be transmitted to general lake, containing the particulars of both grants, and the documents connected with them:-- "dear general, "i am commanded by the prince of wales to transmit to you a correct statement of a transaction in which your name is so much implicated, and in which his feelings have been greatly wounded from a quarter, i am commanded to say, whence he did not expect such conduct. "as i am directed to communicate the particulars in the most authentic form, you will, i am sure, excuse on this occasion my not adopting the mode of a familiar letter. "authentic statement respecting the appointment by his royal highness the prince of wales to the receivership of the duchy of cornwall, in the year , to be transmitted by his royal highness's command, to lieutenant-general lake, commander-in-chief of the forces in india. "the circumstances attending the original reversionary grant to general lake are stated in the brief for counsel on this occasion by mr. bignell, the prince's solicitor, to be as follow: (no. i.) it was afterwards understood by the prince that the service he had wished to render general lake, by this grant, had been defeated by the terms of it; and so clearly had it been shown that there were essential duties attached to the office, which no deputy was competent to execute, and that a deputy, even for the collection of the rents, could not be appointed but by a principal actually in possession of the office, (by having been sworn into it before his council,) that upon general appointment to the command in india, the prince could have no conception that general lake, could have left the country under an impression or expectation that the prince would appoint him, in case of a vacancy, to the place in question. accordingly, his royal highness, on the very day he heard of the death of lord elliot, unsolicited, and of his own gracious suggestion, appointed mr. sheridan. mr. sheridan returned, the next day, in a letter to the prince, such an answer and acknowledgment as might be expected from him; and, accordingly, directions were given to make out his patent. on the ensuing ---- his royal highness was greatly surprised at receiving the following letter from mr. warwick lake. (no. ii.) "his royal highness immediately directed mr. sheridan to see mr. w. lake, and to state his situation, and how the office was circumstanced; and for further distinctness to make a minute in writing * * * *." such were the circumstances that had, at first, embarrassed his enjoyment of this office; but, on the death of lord lake, all difficulties were removed, and the appointment was confirmed to sheridan for his life. in order to afford some insight into the nature of that friendship, which existed so long between the heir apparent and sheridan,--though unable, of course, to produce any of the numerous letters, on the royal side of the correspondence, that have been found among the papers in my possession,--i shall here give, from a rough copy in sheridan's hand-writing, a letter which he addressed about this time to the prince:-- "it is matter of surprise to myself, as well as of deep regret, that i should have incurred the appearance of ungrateful neglect and disrespect towards the person to whom i am most obliged on earth, to whom i feel the most ardent, dutiful, and affectionate attachment, and in whose service i would readily sacrifice my life. yet so it is, and to nothing but a perverse combination of circumstances, which would form no excuse were i to recapitulate them, can i attribute a conduct so strange on my part; and from nothing but your royal highness's kindness and benignity alone can i expect an indulgent allowance and oblivion of that conduct: nor could i even hope for this were i not conscious of the unabated and unalterable devotion towards your royal highness which lives in my heart, and will ever continue to be its pride and boast. "but i should ill deserve the indulgence i request did i not frankly state what has passed in my mind, which, though it cannot justify, may, in some degree, extenuate what must have appeared so strange to your royal highness, previous to your royal highness's having actually restored me to the office i had resigned. "i was mortified and hurt in the keenest manner by having repeated to me from an authority which _i then trusted,_ some expressions of your royal highness respecting me, which it was impossible i could have deserved. though i was most solemnly pledged never to reveal the source from which the communication came, i for some time intended to unburthen my mind to my sincere friend and your royal highness's most attached and excellent servant, m'mahon--but i suddenly discovered, beyond a doubt, that i had been grossly deceived, and that there had not existed the slightest foundation for the tale that had been imposed on me; and i do humbly ask your royal highness's pardon for having for a moment credited a fiction suggested by mischief and i malice. yet, extraordinary as it must seem, i had so long, under this false impression, neglected the course which duty and gratitude required from me, that i felt an unaccountable shyness and reserve in repairing my error, and to this procrastination other unlucky circumstances contributed. one day when i had the honor of meeting your royal highness on horseback in oxford-street, though your manner was as usual gracious and kind to me, you said that i had deserted you privately and _politically_. i had long before that been assured, though falsely i am convinced, that your royal highness had promised to make a point that i should neither speak nor vote on lord wellesly's business. my view of this topic, and my knowledge of the delicate situation in which your royal highness stood in respect to the catholic question, though weak and inadequate motives, i confess, yet encouraged the continuance of that reserve which my original error had commenced. these subjects being passed by,--and sure i am your royal highness would never deliberately ask me to adopt a course of debasing inconsistency,--it was my hope fully and frankly to have explained myself and repaired my fault, when i was informed that a circumstance that happened at burlington-house, and which must have been heinously misrepresented, had greatly offended you; and soon after it was stated to me, by an authority which i have no objection to disclose, that your royal highness had quoted, with marked disapprobation, words supposed to have been spoken by me on the spanish question, and of which words, as there is a god in heaven, i never uttered one syllable. "most justly may your royal highness answer to all this, why have i not sooner stated these circumstances, and confided in that uniform friendship and protection which i have so long experienced at your hands. i can only plead a nervous, procrastinating nature, abetted, perhaps, by sensations of, i trust, no false pride, which, however i may blame myself, impel me involuntarily to fly from the risk of even a cold look from the quarter to which i owe so much, and by whom to be esteemed is the glory and consolation of my private and public life. "one point only remains for me to intrude upon your royal highness's consideration, but it is of a nature fit only for personal communication. i therefore conclude, with again entreating your royal highness to continue and extend the indulgence which the imperfections in my character have so often received from you, and yet to be assured that there never did exist to monarch, prince, or man, a firmer or purer attachment than i feel, and to my death shall feel, to you, my gracious prince and master." chapter x. destruction of the theatre of drury-lane by fire.--mr. whitbread.--plan for a third theatre.--illness of the king.--regency. lord obey and lord grenville.--conduct of mr. sheridan.--his vindication of himself. with the details of the embarrassments of drury-lane theatre, i have endeavored, as little as possible, to encumber the attention of the reader. this part of my subject would, indeed, require a volume to itself. the successive partnerships entered into with mr. grubb and mr. richardson,--the different trust-deeds for the general and individual property,--the various creations of shares,--the controversies between the trustees and proprietors, as to the obligations of the deed of , which ended in a chancery-suit in ,--the perpetual entanglements of the property which sheridan's private debts occasioned, and which even the friendship and skill of mr. adam were wearied out in endeavoring to rectify,--all this would lead to such a mass of details and correspondence as, though i have waded through it myself, it is by no means necessary to inflict upon others. the great source of the involvements, both of sheridan himself and of the concern, is to be found in the enormous excess of the expense of rebuilding the theatre in , over the amount stated by the architect in his estimate. this amount was , _l_.; and the sum of , £. then raised by subscription, would, it was calculated, in addition to defraying this charge, pay off also the mortgage-debts with which the theatre was encumbered. it was soon found, however, that the expense of building the house alone would exceed the whole amount raised by subscription; and, notwithstanding the advance of a considerable sum beyond the estimate, the theatre was delivered in n very unfinished state into the hands of the proprietors,--only part of the mortgage-debts was paid off, and, altogether a debt of , £ was left upon the property. this debt mr. sheridan and the other proprietors took, voluntarily, and, as it has been thought, inconsiderately, upon themselves,--the builders, by their contracts, having no legal claim upon them,--and the payment of it being at various times enforced, not only against the theatre, but against the private property of mr. sheridan, involved both in a degree of embarrassment from which there appeared no hope of extricating them. such was the state of this luckless property,--and it would have been difficult to imagine any change for the worse that could befall it,--when, early in the present year, an event occurred, that seemed to fill up at once the measure of its ruin. on the night of the th of february, while the house of commons was occupied with mr. ponsonby's motion on the conduct of the war in spain, and mr. sheridan was in attendance, with the intention, no doubt, of speaking, the house was suddenly illuminated by a blaze of light; and, the debate being interrupted, it was ascertained that the theatre of drury-lane was on fire. a motion was made to adjourn; but mr. sheridan said with much calmness, that "whatever might be the extent of the private calamity, he hoped it would not interfere with the public business of the country." he then left the house; and, proceeding to drury-lane, witnessed, with a fortitude which strongly interested all who observed him, the entire destruction of his property. [footnote: it is said that, as he sat at the piazza coffee-house, during the fire, taking some refreshment, a friend of his having remarked on the philosophic calmness with which he bore his misfortune, sheridan answered, "a man may surely be allowed to take a glass of wine _by his own fire-side._" without vouching for the authenticity or novelty of this anecdote, (which may have been, for aught i know, like the wandering jew, a regular attendant upon all fires, since the time of hierocles,) i give it as i heard it.] among his losses on the occasion there was one which, from being associated with feelings of other times, may have affected him, perhaps, more deeply than many that were far more serious. a harpsichord, that had belonged to his first wife, and had long survived her sweet voice in silent widowhood, was, with other articles of furniture that had been moved from somerset-house to the theatre, lost in the flames. the ruin thus brought upon this immense property seemed, for a time, beyond all hope of retrieval. the embarrassments of the concern were known to have been so great, and such a swarm of litigious claims lay slumbering under those ashes, that it is not surprising the public should have been slow and unwilling to touch them. nothing, indeed, short of the intrepid zeal of mr. whitbread could have ventured upon the task of remedying so complex a calamity; nor could any industry less persevering have compassed the miracle of rebuilding and re-animating that edifice, among the many-tongued claims that beset and perplexed his enterprise. in the following interesting letter to him from sheridan, we trace the first steps of his friendly interference on the occasion:-- "my dear whithbread, "procrastination is always the consequence of an indolent man's resolving to write a long detailed letter, upon any subject, however important to himself, or whatever may be the confidence he has in the friend he proposes to write to. to this must be attributed your having escaped the statement i threatened you with in my last letter, and the brevity with which i now propose to call your attention to the serious, and, to me, most important request, contained in this,--reserving all i meant to have written for personal communication. "i pay you no compliment when i say that, without comparison, you are the man living, in my estimation, the most disposed and the most competent to bestow a portion of your time and ability to assist the call of friendship,--on the condition that that call shall be proved to be made in a cause just and honorable, and in every respect entitled to your protection. "on this ground alone i make my application to you. you said, some time since, in my house, but in a careless conversation only, that you would be a member of a committee for rebuilding drury-lane theatre, if it would serve me; and, indeed, you very kindly suggested, yourself, that these were more persons disposed to assist that object than i might be aware of. i most thankfully accept the offer of your interference, and am convinced of the benefits your friendly exertions are competent to produce. i have worked the whole subject in my own mind, and see a clear way to retrieve a great property, at least to my son and his family, if my plan meets the support i hope it will appear to merit. "writing thus to you in the sincerity of private friendship, and the reliance i place on my opinion of your character, i need not ask of you, though eager and active in politics as you are, not to be severe in criticising my palpable neglect of all parliamentary duty. it would not be easy to explain to you, or even to make you comprehend, or any one in prosperous and affluent plight, the private difficulties i have to struggle with. my mind, and the resolute independence belonging to it, has not been in the least subdued by the late calamity; but the consequences arising from it have more engaged and embarrassed me than, perhaps, i have been willing to allow. it has been a principle of my life, persevered in through great difficulties, never to borrow money of a private friend and this resolution i would starve rather than violate. of course, i except the political aid of election-subscription. when i ask you to take a part in the settlement of my shattered affairs, i ask you only to do so after a previous investigation of every part of the past circumstances which relate to the trust i wish you to accept, in conjunction with those who wish to serve me, and to whom i think you could not object. i may be again seized with an illness as alarming as that i lately experienced. assist me in relieving my mind from the greatest affliction that such a situation can again produce,--the fear of others suffering by my death. "to effect this little more is necessary than some resolution on my part, and the active superintending advice of a mind like yours. "thus far on paper. i will see you next ----, and therefore will not trouble you for a written reply." encouraged by the opening which the destruction of drury-lane seemed to offer to free adventure in theatrical property, a project was set on foot for the establishment of a third great theatre, which, being backed by much of the influence and wealth of the city of london, for some time threatened destruction to the monopoly that had existed so long. but, by the exertions of mr. sheridan and his friends, this scheme was defeated, and a bill for the erection of drury-lane theatre by subscription, and for the incorporation of the subscribers, was passed through parliament. that mr. sheridan himself would have had no objection to a third theatre, if held by a joint grant to the proprietors of the other two, appears not only from his speeches and petitions on the subject at this time, but from the following plan for such an establishment, drawn up by him, some years before, and intended to be submitted to the consideration of the proprietors of both houses:-- "gentlemen, "according to your desire, the plan of the proposed assistant theatre, is here explained in writing for your further consideration. "from our situations in the theatres royal of drury-lane and covent-garden we have had opportunities of observing many circumstances relative to our general property, which must have escaped those who do not materially interfere in the management of that property. one point in particular has lately weighed extremely in our opinions, which is, an apprehension of a new theatre being erected for some species or other of dramatic entertainment. were this event to take place on an opposing interest, our property would sink in value one-half, and in all probability, the contest that would ensue would speedily end in the absolute ruin of one of the present established theatres. we have reason, it is true, from his majesty's gracious patronage to the present houses, to hope, that a third patent for a winter theatre is not easily to be obtained; but the motives which appear to call for one are so many, (and those of such a nature, as to increase every day,) that we cannot, on the maturest consideration of the subject, divest ourselves of the dread that such an event may not be very remote. with this apprehension before us, we have naturally fallen into a joint consideration of the means of preventing so fatal a blow to the present theatres, or of deriving a general advantage from a circumstance which might otherwise be our ruin. "some of the leading motives for the establishment of a third theatre are as follows:-- " st. the great extent of the town and increased residence of a higher class of people, who, on account of many circumstances, seldom frequent the theatre. " d. the distant situation of the theatres from the politer streets, and the difficulty with which ladies reach their carriages or chairs. " d. the small number of side-boxes, where only, by the uncontrollable influence of fashion, ladies of any rank can be induced to sit. " th. the earliness of the hour, which renders it absolutely impossible for those who attend on parliament, live at any distance, or, indeed, for any person who dines at the prevailing hour, to reach the theatre before the performance is half over. "these considerations have lately been strongly urged to me by many leading persons of rank. there has also prevailed, as appears by the number of private plays at gentlemen's seats, an unusual fashion for theatrical entertainments among the politer class of people; and it is not to be wondered at that they, feeling themselves, (from the causes above enumerated,) in a manner, excluded from our theatres, should persevere in an endeavor to establish some plan of similar entertainment, on principles of superior elegance and accommodation. "in proof of this disposition, and the effects to be apprehended from it, we need but instance one fact, among many, which might be produced, and that is the well-known circumstance of a subscription having actually been begun last winter, with very powerful patronage, for the importation of a french company of comedians, a scheme which, though it might not have answered to the undertaking, would certainly have been the foundation of other entertainments, whose opposition we should speedily have experienced. the question, then, upon a full view of our situation, appears to be, whether the proprietors of the present theatres will contentedly wait till some other person takes advantage of the prevailing wish for a third theatre, or, having the remedy in their power, profit by a turn of fashion which they cannot control. "a full conviction that the latter is the only line of conduct which can give security to the patents of drury-lane and covent-garden theatres, and yield a probability of future advantage in the exercise of them, has prompted us to endeavor at modelling this plan, on which we conceive those theatres may unite in the support of a third, to the general and mutual advantage of all the proprietors. "proposals. "the proprietors of the theatre-royal in covent-garden appear to be possessed of two patents, for the privilege of acting plays, &c., under one of which the above-mentioned theatre is opened,--the other lying dormant and useless;--it is proposed that this dormant patent shall be exercised, (with his majesty's approbation,) in order to license the dramatic performance of the new theatre to be erected. "it is proposed that the performances of this new theatre shall be supported from the united establishments of the two present theatres, so that the unemployed part of each company may exert themselves for the advantage of the whole. "as the object of this assistant theatre will be to reimburse the proprietors of the other two, at the full season, for the expensive establishment they are obliged to maintain when the town is almost empty, it is proposed, that the scheme of business to be adopted in the new theatre shall differ as much as possible from that of the other two, and that the performances at the new house shall be exhibited at a superior price, and shall commence at a later hour. "the proposers will undertake to provide a theatre for the purpose, in a proper situation, and on the following terms:--if they engage a theatre to be built, being the property of the builder or builders, it must be for an agreed on rent, with security for a term of years. in this case the proprietors of the two present theatres shall jointly and severally engage in the whole of the risk; and the proposers are ready, on equitable terms, to undertake the management of it. but, if the proposers find themselves enabled, either on their own credit, or by the assistance of their friends, or on a plan of subscription, the mode being devised, and the security given by themselves, to become the builders of the theatre, the interest in the building will, in that case, be the property of the proposers, and they will undertake to demand no rent for the performances therein to be exhibited for the mutual advantage of the two present theatres. "the proposers will, in this case, conducting the business under the dormant patent above mentioned, bind themselves, that no theatrical entertainments, as plays, farces, pantomimes, or english operas, shall at any time be exhibited in this theatre but for the general advantage of the proprietors of the two other theatres; the proposers reserving to themselves any profit they can make of their building, converted to purposes distinct from the business of the theatres. "the proposers, undertaking the management of the new theatre, shall be entitled to a sum to be settled by the proprietors at large, or by an equitable arbitration. "it is proposed, that all the proprietors of the two present theatres royal of drury-lane and covent-garden shall share all profits from the dramatic entertainments exhibited at the new theatre; that is, each shall be entitled to receive a dividend in proportion to the shares he or she possesses of the present theatres: first only deducting a certain nightly sum to be paid to the proprietors of covent-garden theatre, as a consideration for the license furnished by the exercise of their present dormant patent. "'fore heaven! the plan's a good plan! i shall add a little epilogue to-morrow. "r. b. s." "'tis now too late, and i've a letter to write before i go to bed,--and then, good night." in the month of july, this year, the installation of lord grenville, as chancellor of oxford, took place, and mr. sheridan was among the distinguished persons that attended the ceremony. as a number of honorary degrees were to be conferred on the occasion, it was expected, as a matter of course, that his name would be among those selected for that distinction; and, to the honor of the university, it was the general wish among its leading members that such a tribute should be paid to his high political character. on the proposal of his name, however, (in a private meeting, i believe, held previously to the convocation.) the words _"non placet"_ were heard from two scholars, one of whom, it is said, had no nobler motive for his opposition than that sheridan did not pay his father's tithes very regularly. several efforts were made to win over these dissentients; and the rev. mr. ingram delivered an able and liberal latin speech, in which he indignantly represented the shame that it would bring on the university, if such a name as that of sheridan should be _"clam subductum"_ from the list. the two scholars, however, were immovable; and nothing remained but to give sheridan intimation of their intended opposition, so as to enable him to decline the honor of having his name proposed. on his appearance, afterwards, in the theatre, a burst of acclamation broke forth, with a general cry of "mr. sheridan among the doctors,--sheridan among the doctors;" in compliance with which he was passed to the seat occupied by the honorary graduates, and sat, in unrobed distinction, among them, during the whole of the ceremonial. few occurrences, of a public nature, ever gave him more pleasure than this reception. at the close of the year , the malady, with which the king had been thrice before afflicted, returned; and, after the usual adjournments of parliament, it was found necessary to establish a regency. on the question of the second adjournment, mr. sheridan took a line directly opposed to that of his party, and voted with the majority. that in this step he did not act from any previous concert with the prince, appears from the following letter, addressed by him to his royal highness on the subject, and containing particulars which will prepare the mind of the reader to judge more clearly of the events that followed:-- "sir, "i felt infinite satisfaction when i was apprised that your royal highness had been far from disapproving the line of conduct i had presumed to pursue, on the last question of adjournment in the house of commons. indeed, i never had a moment's doubt but that your royal highness would give me credit that i was actuated on that, as i shall on every other occasion through my existence, by no possible motive but the most sincere and unmixed desire to look to your royal highness's honor and true interest, as the objects of my political life,--directed, as i am sure your efforts will ever be, to the essential interests of the country and the constitution. to this line of conduct i am prompted by every motive of personal gratitude, and confirmed by every opportunity, which peculiar circumstances and long experience have afforded me, of judging of your heart and understanding,--to the superior excellence of which, (beyond all, i believe, that ever stood in your rank and high relation to society,) i fear not to advance my humble testimony, because i scruple not to say for myself, that i am no flatterer, and that i never found that to _become_ one was the road to your real regard. "i state thus much because it has been under the influence of these feelings that i have not felt myself warranted, (without any previous communication with your royal highness,) to follow implicitly the dictates of others, in whom, however they may be my superiors in many qualities, i can subscribe to no superiority as to devoted attachment and duteous affection to your royal highness, or in that practical knowledge of the public mind and character, upon which alone must be built that popular and personal estimation of your royal highness, so necessary to your future happiness and glory, and to the prosperity of the nation you are destined to rule over. "on these grounds, i saw no policy or consistency in unnecessarily giving a general sanction to the examination of the physicians before the council, and then attempting, on the question of adjournment, to hold that examination as naught. on these grounds, i have ventured to doubt the wisdom or propriety of any endeavor, (if any such endeavor has been made,) to induce your royal highness, during so critical a moment, to stir an inch from the strong reserved post you have chosen, or give the slightest public demonstration of any future intended political preferences;--convinced as i was that the rule of conduct you had prescribed to yourself was precisely that which was gaining you the general heart, and rendering it impracticable for any quarter to succeed in annexing unworthy conditions to that most difficult situation, which you were probably so soon to be called on to accept. "i may, sir, have been guilty of error of judgment in both these respects, differing, as i fear i have done, from those whom i am bound so highly to respect; but, at the same time, i deem it no presumption to say that, until better instructed, i feel a strong confidence in the justness of my own view of the subject; and simply because of this--i am sure that the decisions of that judgment, be they sound or mistaken, have not, at least, been rashly taken up, but were founded on deliberate zeal for your service and glory, unmixed, i will confidently say, with any one selfish object or political purpose of my own." the same limitations and restrictions that mr. pitt proposed in , were, upon the same principles, adopted by the present minister: nor did the opposition differ otherwise from their former line of argument, than by omitting altogether that claim of right for the prince, which mr. fox had, in the proceedings of , asserted. the event that ensued is sufficiently well known. to the surprise of the public, (who expected, perhaps, rather than wished, that the coalesced party of which lord grey and lord grenville were the chiefs, should now succeed to power,) mr. perceval and his colleagues were informed by the regent that it was the intention of his royal highness to continue them still in office. the share taken by mr. sheridan in the transactions that led to this decision, is one of those passages of his political life upon which the criticism of his own party has been most severely exercised, and into the details of which i feel most difficulty in entering:--because, however curious it may be to penetrate into these _"postscenia"_ of public life, it seems hardly delicate, while so many of the chief actors are still upon the stage. as there exists, however, a paper drawn up by mr. sheridan, containing what he considered a satisfactory defence of his conduct on this occasion, i should ill discharge my duty towards his memory, were i, from any scruples or predilections of my own, to deprive him of the advantage of a, statement, on which he appears to have relied so confidently for his vindication. but, first,--in order fully to understand the whole course of feelings and circumstances, by which not only sheridan, but his royal master, (for their cause is, in a great degree, identified,) were for some time past, predisposed towards the line of conduct which they now pursued,--it will be necessary to recur to a few antecedent events. by the death of mr. fox the chief personal tie that connected the heir-apparent with the party of that statesman was broken. the political identity of the party itself had, even before that event, been, in a great degree, disturbed by a coalition against which sheridan had always most strongly protested, and to which the prince, there is every reason to believe, was by no means friendly. immediately after the death of mr. fox, his royal highness made known his intentions of withdrawing from all personal interference in politics; and, though still continuing his sanction to the remaining ministry, expressed himself as no longer desirous of being considered "a party man." [footnote: this is the phrase used by the prince himself, in a letter addressed to a noble lord,(not long after the dismissal of the grenville ministry,) for the purpose of vindicating his own character from some imputations cast upon it, in consequence of an interview which he had lately had with the king. this important exposition of the feelings of his royal highness, which, more than any thing, throws light upon his subsequent conduct, was drawn up by sheridan; and i had hoped that i should have been able to lay it before the reader:--but the liberty of perusing the letter is all that has been allowed me.] during the short time that these ministers continued in office, the understanding between them and the prince was by no means of that cordial and confidential kind, which had been invariably maintained during the life-time of mr. fox. on the contrary, the impression on the mind, of his royal highness, us well as on those of his immediate friends in the ministry, lord moira and mr. sheridan, was, that a cold neglect had succeeded to the confidence with which they had hitherto been treated; and that, neither in their opinions nor feelings, were they any longer sufficiently consulted or considered. the very measure, by which the ministers ultimately lost their places, was, it appears, one of those which the illustrious personage in question neither conceived himself to have been sufficiently consulted upon before its adoption, nor approved of afterwards. such were the gradual loosenings of a bond, which at no time had promised much permanence; and such the train of feelings and circumstances which, (combining with certain prejudices in the royal mind against one of the chief leaders of the party,) prepared the way for that result by which the public was surprised in , and the private details of which i shall now, as briefly as possible, relate. as soon as the bill for regulating the office of regent had passed the two houses, the prince, who, till then, had maintained a strict reserve with respect to his intentions, signified, through mr. adam, his pleasure that lord grenville should wait upon him. he then, in the most gracious manner, expressed to that noble lord his wish that he should, in conjunction with lord grey, prepare the answer which his royal highness was, in a few days, to return to the address of the houses. the same confidential task was entrusted also to lord moira, with an expressed desire that he should consult with lord grey and lord grenville on the subject. but this co-operation, as i understand, the two noble lords declined. one of the embarrassing consequences of coalitions now appeared. the recorded opinions of lord grenville on the regency question differed wholly and in principle not only from those of his coadjutor in this task, but from those of the royal person himself, whose sentiments he was called upon to interpret. in this difficulty, the only alternative that remained was so to neutralize the terms of the answer upon the great point of difference, as to preserve the consistency of the royal speaker, without at the same time compromising that of his noble adviser. it required, of course, no small art and delicacy thus to throw into the shade that distinctive opinion of whigism, which burke had clothed in his imperishable language in , and which fox had solemnly bequeathed to the party, when "in his upward flight he left his mantle there." [footnote: joanna baithe] the answer, drawn up by the noble lords, did not, it must be confessed, surmount this difficulty very skilfully. the assertion of the prince's consistency was confined to two meagre sentences, in the first of which his royal highness was made to say:--"with respect to the proposed limitation of the authority to be entrusted to me, i retain my former opinion:"--and in the other, the expression of any decided opinion upon the constitutional point is thus evaded:--"for such a purpose no restraint can be necessary to be imposed upon me." somewhat less vague and evasive, however, was the justification of the opinion opposed to that of the prince, in the following sentence:--"that day when i may restore to the king those powers, which _as belonging only to him_, [footnote: the words which i have put in italics in these quotations, are, in the same manner, underlined in sheridan's copy of the paper,--doubtless, from a similar view of their import to that which i have taken.] are in his name and in his behalf," &c. &c. this, it will be recollected, is precisely the doctrine which, on the great question of limiting the prerogative, mr. fox attributed to the tories. in another passage, the whig opinion of the prince was thus tamely surrendered:--"conscious that, whatever _degree_ of confidence you may _think fit_ to repose in me," &c. [footnote: on the back of sheridan's own copy of this answer, i find, written by him, the following words "grenville's and grey's proposed answer from the prince to the address of the two houses,--very flimsy, and attempting to cover grenville's conduct and consistency in supporting the present restrictions at the expense of the prince."] the answer, thus constructed, was, by the two noble lords, transmitted through mr. adam, to the prince, who, "strongly objecting, (as we are told), to almost every part of it," acceded to the suggestion of sheridan, whom he consulted on the subject, that a new form of answer should be immediately sketched out, and submitted to the consideration of lord grey and lord grenville. there was no time to be lost, as the address of the houses was to be received the following day. accordingly, mr. adam and mr. sheridan proceeded that night, with the new draft of the answer to holland-house, where, after a warm discussion upon the subject with lord grey, which ended unsatisfactorily to both parties, the final result was that the answer drawn up by the prince and sheridan was adopted.--such is the bare outline of this transaction, the circumstances of which will be found fully detailed in the statement that shall presently be given. the accusation against sheridan is, that chiefly to his undermining influence the view taken by the prince of the paper of these noble lords is to be attributed; and that not only was he censurable in a constitutional point of view, for thus interfering between the sovereign and his responsible advisers, but that he had been also guilty of an act of private perfidy, in endeavoring to represent the answer drawn up by these noble lords, as an attempt to sacrifice the consistency and dignity of their royal master to the compromise of opinions and principles which they had entered into themselves. under the impression that such were the nature and motives of his interference, lord grey and lord grenville, on the th of january, (the day on which the answer substituted for their own was delivered), presented a joint representation to the regent, in which they stated that "the circumstances which had occurred, respecting his royal highness's answer to the two houses, had induced them, most humbly, to solicit permission to submit to his royal highness the following considerations, with the undisguised sincerity which the occasion seemed to require, but, with every expression that could best convey their respectful duty and inviolable attachment. when his royal highness, (they continued), did lord grenville the honor, through mr. adam, to command his attendance, it was distinctly expressed to him, that his royal highness had condescended to select him, in conjunction with lord grey, to be consulted with, as the public and responsible advisers of that answer; and lord grenville could never forget the gracious terms in which his royal highness had the goodness to lay these his orders upon him. it was also on the same grounds of public and responsible advice, that lord grey, honored in like manner by the most gracious expression of his royal highness's confidence on this subject, applied himself to the consideration of it conjointly with lord grenville. they could not but feel the difficulty of the undertaking, which required them to reconcile two objects essentially different,--to uphold and distinctly to manifest that unshaken adherence to his royal highness's past and present opinion, which consistency and honor required, but to conciliate, at the same time, the feelings of the two houses, by expressions of confidence and affection, and to lay the foundation of that good understanding between his royal highness and the parliament, the establishment of which must be the first wish of every man who is truly attached to his royal highness, and who knows the value of the constitution of his country. lord grey and lord grenville were far from the presumption of believing that their humble endeavors for the execution of so difficult a task might not be susceptible of many and great amendments. "the draft, (their lordships said), which they humbly submitted to his royal highness was considered by them as open to every remark which might occur to his royal highness's better judgment. on every occasion, but more especially in the preparation of his royal highness's first act of government, it would have been no less their desire than their duty to have profited by all such objections, and to have labored to accomplish, in the best manner they were able, every command which his royal highness might have been pleased to lay upon them. upon the objects to be obtained there could be no difference of sentiment. these, such as above described, were, they confidently believed, not less important in his royal highness's view of the subject than in that which they themselves had ventured to express. but they would be wanting in that sincerity and openness by which they could alone hope, however imperfectly, to make any return to that gracious confidence with which his royal highness had condescended to honor them, if they suppressed the expression of their deep concern, in finding that their humble endeavors in his royal highness's service had been submitted to the judgment of another person, by whose advice his royal highness had been guided in his final decision, on a matter on which they alone had, however unworthily, been honored with his royal highness's commands. it was their most sincere and ardent wish that, in the arduous station which his royal highness was about to fill, he might have the benefit of the public advice and responsible services of those men, whoever they might be, by whom his royal highness's glory and the interests of the country could best be promoted. it would be with unfeigned distrust of their own means of discharging such duties that they could, in any case, venture to undertake them; and, in this humble but respectful representation which they had presumed to make of their feelings on this occasion, they were conscious of being actuated not less by their dutiful and grateful attachment to his royal highness, than by those principles of constitutional responsibility, the maintenance of which they deemed essential to any hope of a successful administration of the public interests." on receiving this representation, in which, it must be confessed, there was more of high spirit and dignity than of worldly wisdom, [footnote: to the pure and dignified character of the noble whig associated in this remonstrance, it is unnecessary for me to say how heartily i bear testimony. the only fault, indeed, of this distinguished person is, that knowing but one high course of conduct for himself, he impatiently resents any sinking from that pitch in others. then, only, in his true station, when placed between the people and the crown, as one of those fortresses that ornament and defend the frontier of democracy, he has shown that he can but ill suit the dimensions of his spirit to the narrow avenues of a court, or, like that pope who stooped to look for the keys of st. peter, accommodate his natural elevation to the pursuit of official power. all the pliancy of his nature is, indeed, reserved for private life, where the repose of the valley succeeds to the grandeur of the mountain, and where the lofty statesman gracefully subsides into the gentle husband and father, and the frank, social friend. the eloquence of lord grey, more than that of any other person, brings to mind what quintilian says of the great and noble orator, messala:--"_quodammodo prae se ferens in dicendo nobilitatem suam_."] his royal highness lost no time in communicating it to sheridan, who, proud of the influence attributed to him by the noble writers, and now more than ever stimulated to make them feel its weight, employed the whole force of his shrewdness and ridicule [footnote: he called rhymes also to his aid, as appears by the following:-- "_an address to the prince_, . "in all humility we crave our regent may become our slave, and being so, we trust that he will thank us for our loyalty. then, if he'll help us to pull down his father's dignity and crown, we'll make him, in some time to come, the greatest prince in christendom."] in exposing the stately tone of dictation which, according to his view, was assumed throughout this paper, and in picturing to the prince the state of tutelage he might expect under ministers who began thus early with their lectures. such suggestions, even if less ably urged, were but too sure of a willing audience in the ears to which they were adressed. shortly after, his royal highness paid a visit to windsor, where the queen and another royal personage completed what had been so skilfully begun; and the important resolution was forthwith taken to retain mr. perceval and his colleagues in the ministry. i shall now give the statement of the whole transaction, which mr. sheridan thought it necessary to address, in his own defence, to lord holland, and of which a rough and a fair copy have been found carefully preserved among his papers:-- _queen-street, january_ , . "dear holland, "as you have been already apprised by his royal highness the prince that he thought it becoming the frankness of his character, and consistent with the fairness and openness of proceeding due to any of his servants whose conduct appears to have incurred the disapprobation of lord grey and lord grenville, to communicate their representations on the subject to the person so censured, i am confident you will give me credit for the pain i must have felt, to find myself an object of suspicion, or likely, in the slightest degree, to become the cause of any temporary misunderstanding between his royal highness amid those distinguished characters, whom his royal highness appears to destine to those responsible situations, which must in all public matters entitle them to his exclusive confidence. "i shall as briefly as i can state the circumstances of the fact, so distinctly referred to in the following passage of the noble lord's representation:-- "'but they would be wanting in that sincerity and openness by which they can alone hope, however imperfectly, to make any return to that gracious confidence with which your royal highness has condescended to honor them, if they suppressed the expression of their deep concern in finding that their humble endeavors in your royal highness's service have been submitted to the judgment of another person, _by whose advice_ your royal highness has been guided in your final decision on a matter in which they alone had, however unworthily, been honored with your royal highness's commands.' "i must premise, that from my first intercourse with the prince during the present distressing emergency, such conversations as he may have honored me with have been communications of resolutions already formed on his part, and not of matter referred to consultation or submitted to _advice_. i know that my declining to vote for the further adjournment of the privy council's examination of the physicians gave offence to some, and was considered as a difference from the party i as rightly esteemed to belong to. the intentions of the leaders of the party upon that question were in no way distinctly known to me; my secession was entirely my own act, and not only unauthorized, but perhaps unexpected by the prince. my motives for it i took the liberty of communicating to his royal highness by letter, [footnote: this letter has been given in page .] the next day, and, previously to that, i had not even seen his royal highness since the confirmation of his majesty's malady. "if i differed from those who, equally attached to his royal highness's interest and honor, thought that his royal highness should have taken the step which, in my humble opinion, he has since, precisely at the proper period, taken of sending to lord grenville and lord grey, i may certainly have erred in forming an imperfect judgment on the occasion, but, in doing so, i meant no disrespect to those who had taken a different view of the subject. but, with all deference, i cannot avoid adding, that experience of the impression made on the public mind by the reserved and retired conduct which the prince thought proper to adopt, has not shaken my opinion of the wisdom which prompted him to that determination. but here, again, i declare, that i must reject the presumption that any suggestion of mine led to the rule which the prince had prescribed to himself. my knowledge of it being, as i before said, the communication of a resolution formed on the part of his royal highness, and not of a proposition awaiting the advice, countenance, or corroboration, of any other person. having thought it necessary to premise thus much, as i wish to write to you without reserve or concealment of any sort, i shall as briefly as i can relate the facts which attended the composing the answer itself, as far as i was concerned. "on sunday, or on monday the th instant, i mentioned to lord moira, or to adam, that the address of the two houses would come very quickly upon the prince, and that he should be prepared with his answer, without entertaining the least idea of meddling with the subject myself, having received no authority from his royal highness to do so. either lord moira or adam informed me, before i left carlton-house, that his royal highness had directed lord moira to sketch an outline of the answer proposed, and i left town. on tuesday evening it occurred to me to try at a sketch also of the intended reply. on wednesday morning i read it, at carlton-house, very hastily to adam, before i saw the prince. and here i must pause to declare, that i have entirely withdrawn from my mind any doubt, if for a moment i ever entertained any, of the perfect propriety of adam's conduct at that hurried interview; being also long convinced, as well from intercourse with him at carlton-house as in every transaction i have witnessed, that it is impossible for him to act otherwise than with the most entire sincerity and honor towards all he deals with. i then read the paper i had put together to the prince,--the most essential part of it literally consisting of sentiments and expressions, which had fallen from the prince himself in different conversations; and i read it to him without _having once heard lord grenville's name_ even mentioned as in any way connected with the answer proposed to be submitted to the prince. on the contrary, indeed, i was under an impression that the framing this answer was considered as the single act which it would be an unfair and embarrassing task to require the performance of from lord grenville. the prince approved the paper i read to him, objecting, however, to some additional paragraphs of my own, and altering others. in the course of his observations, he cursorily mentioned that lord grenville had undertaken to sketch out his idea of a proper answer, and that lord moira had done the same,--evidently expressing himself, to my apprehension, as not considering the framing of this answer as a matter of official responsibility any where, but that it was his intention to take the choice and decision respecting it on himself. if, however, i had known, before i entered the prince's apartment, that lord grenville and lord grey had in any way undertaken to frame the answer, and had thought themselves authorized to do so, i protest the prince would never even have heard of the draft which i had prepared, though containing, as i before said, the prince's own ideas. "his royal highness having laid his commands on adam and me to dine with him alone on the next day, thursday, i then, for the first time, learnt that lord grey and lord grenville had transmitted, through adam, a formal draft of an answer to be submitted to the prince. "under these circumstances i thought it became me humbly to request the prince not to refer to me, in any respect, the paper of the noble lords, or to insist even on my hearing its contents; but that i might be permitted to put the draft he had received from me into the fire. the prince, however, who had read the noble lords' paper, declining to hear of this, proceeded to state, how strongly he objected to almost every part of it. the draft delivered by adam he took a copy of himself, as mr. adam read it, affixing shortly, but warmly, his comments to each paragraph. finding his royal highness's objections to the whole radical and insuperable, and seeing no means myself by which the noble lords could change their draft, so as to meet the prince's ideas, i ventured to propose, as the only expedient of which the time allowed, that both the papers should be laid aside, and that a very short answer, indeed, keeping clear of all topics liable to disagreement, should be immediately sketched out and be submitted that night to the judgment of lord grey and lord grenville. the lateness of the hour prevented any but very hasty discussion, and adam and myself proceeded, by his royal highness's orders, to your house to relate what had passed to lord grey. i do not mean to disguise, however, that when i found myself bound to give my opinion, i did fully assent to the force and justice of the prince's objections, and made other observations of my own, which i thought it my duty to do, conceiving, as i freely said, that the paper could not have been drawn up but under the pressure of embarrassing difficulties, and, as i conceived also, in considerable haste. "before we left carlton-house, it was agreed between adam and myself that we were not so strictly enjoined by the prince, as to make it necessary for us to communicate to the noble lords the marginal comments of the prince, and we determined to withhold them. but at the meeting with lord grey, at your house, he appeared to me, erroneously perhaps, to decline considering the objections as coming from the prince, but as originating in my suggestions. upon this, i certainly called on adam to produce the prince's copy, with his notes, in his royal highness's own hand-writing. "afterwards, finding myself considerably hurt at an expression of lord grey's, which could only be pointed at me, and which expressed his opinion that the whole of the paper, which he assumed me to be responsible for, was 'drawn up in an invidious spirit,' i certainly did, with more warmth than was, perhaps, discreet, comment on the paper proposed to be substituted; and there ended, with no good effect, our interview. "adam and i saw the prince again that night, when his royal highness was graciously pleased to meet our joint and earnest request, by striking out from the draft of the answer, to which he still resolved to adhere, every passage which we conceived to be most liable to objection on the part of lord grey and lord grenville. "on the next morning, friday,--a short time before he was to receive the address,--when adam returned from the noble lords, with their expressed disclaimer of the preferred answer, altered as it was, his royal highness still persevered to eradicate every remaining word which he thought might yet appear exceptionable to them, and made further alterations, although the fair copy of the paper had been made out. "thus the answer, nearly reduced to the expression of the prince's own suggestions, and without an opportunity of farther meeting the wishes of the noble lords, was delivered by his royal highness, and presented by the deputation of the two houses. "i am ashamed to have been thus prolix and circumstantial, upon a matter which may appear to have admitted of much shorter explanation; but when misconception has produced distrust among those, i hope, not willingly disposed to differ, and, who can have, i equally trust, but one common object in view in their different stations, i know no better way than by minuteness and accuracy of detail to remove whatever may have appeared doubtful in conduct, while unexplained, or inconsistent in principle not clearly re-asserted. "and now, my dear lord, i have only shortly to express my own personal mortification, i will use no other word, that i should have been considered by any persons however high in rank, or justly entitled to high political pretensions, as one so little 'attached to his royal highness,' or so ignorant of the value 'of the constitution of his country,' as to be held out to him, whose fairly-earned esteem i regard as the first honor and the sole reward of my political life, in the character of an interested contriver of a double government, and, in some measure, as an apostate from all my former principles,--which have taught me, as well as the noble lords, that 'the maintenance of constitutional responsibility in the ministers of the crown is essential to any hope of success in the administration of the public interest.' "at the same time, i am most ready to admit that it could not be their _intention_ so to characterize me; but it is the direct inference which others must gather from the first paragraph i have quoted from their representation, and an inference which, i understand, has already been raised in public opinion. a departure, my dear lord, on my part, from upholding the principle declared by the noble lords, much more a presumptuous and certainly ineffectual attempt to inculcate a contrary doctrine on the mind of the prince of wales, would, i am confident, lose me every particle of his favor and confidence at once and for ever. but i am yet to learn what part of my past public life,--and i challenge observation on every part of my present proceedings,--has warranted the adoption of any such suspicion of me, or the expression of any such imputation against me. but i will dwell no longer on this point, as it relates only to my own feelings and character; which, however, i am the more bound to consider, as others, in my humble judgment, have so hastily disregarded both. at the same time, i do sincerely declare, that no personal disappointment in my own mind interferes with the respect and esteem i entertain for lord grenville, or in addition to those sentiments, the friendly regard i owe to lord grey. to lord grenville i have the honor to be but very little personally known. from lord grey, intimately acquainted as he was with every circumstance of my conduct and principles in the years - , i confess i should have expected a very tardy and reluctant interpretation of any circumstance to my disadvantage. what the nature of my endeavors were at that time, i have the written testimonies of mr. fox and the duke of portland. to you i know those testimonies are not necessary, and perhaps it has been my recollection of what passed in those times that may have led me too securely to conceive myself above the reach even of a suspicion that i could adopt different principles now. such as they were they remain untouched and unaltered. i conclude with sincerely declaring, that to see the prince meeting the reward which his own honorable nature, his kind and generous disposition, and his genuine devotion to the true objects of our free constitution so well entitle him to, by being surrounded and supported by an administration affectionate to his person, and ambitious of gaining and meriting his entire esteem, (yet tenacious, above all things, of the constitutional principle, that exclusive confidence must attach to the responsibility of those whom he selects to be his public servants,) i would with heartfelt satisfaction rather be a looker on of such a government, giving it such humble support as might be in my power, than be the possessor of any possible situation either of profit or ambition, to be obtained by any indirectness, or by the slightest departure from the principles i have always professed, and which i have now felt myself in a manner called upon to re-assert. "i have only to add, that my respect for the prince, and my sense of the frankness he has shown towards me on this occasion, decide me, with all duty, to submit this letter to his perusal, before i place it in your hands; meaning it undoubtedly to be by you shown to those to whom your judgment may deem it of any consequence to communicate it. "i have the honor to be, &c. "_to lord holland_. (signed) "r. b. sheridan "read and approved by the prince, january , . "r.b.s." though this statement, it must be recollected, exhibits but one side of the question, and is silent as to the part that sheridan took after the delivery of the remonstrance of the two noble lords, yet, combined with preceding events and with the insight into motives which they afford, it may sufficiently enable the reader to form his own judgment, with respect to the conduct of the different persons concerned in the transaction. with the better and more ostensible motives of sheridan, there was, no doubt, some mixture of, what the platonists call, "the material alluvion" of our nature. his political repugnance to the coalesced leaders would have been less strong but for the personal feelings that mingled with it; and his anxiety that the prince should not be dictated to by others was at least equalled by his vanity in showing that he could govern him himself. but, whatever were the precise views that impelled him to this trial of strength, the victory which he gained in it was far more extensive than he himself had either foreseen or wished. he had meant the party to _feel_ his power,--not to sink under it. though privately alienated from them, on personal as well as political grounds, he knew that, publicly he was too much identified with their ranks, ever to serve, with credit or consistency, in any other. he had, therefore, in the ardor of undermining, carried the ground from beneath his own feet. in helping to disband his party, he had cashiered himself; and there remained to him now, for the residue of his days, but that frailest of all sublunary treasures, a prince's friendship. with this conviction, (which, in spite of all the sanguineness of his disposition, could hardly have failed to force itself on his mind,) it was not, we should think, with very self-gratulatory feelings that he undertook the task, a few weeks after, of inditing, for the regent, that memorable letter to mr. perceval, which sealed the fate at once both of his party and himself, and whatever false signs of re-animation may afterwards have appeared, severed the last life-lock by which the "struggling spirit" [footnote: _lavtans anima_] of this friendship between royalty and whiggism still held:-- --"_dextra crinem secat, omnis et una dilapsus calor, atque in ventos vita recessit_." with respect to the chief personage connected with these transactions, it is a proof of the tendency of knowledge, to produce a spirit of tolerance, that they who, judging merely from the surface of events, have been most forward in reprobating his separation from the whigs, as a rupture of political ties and an abandonment of private friendships, must, on becoming more thoroughly acquainted with all the circumstances that led to this crisis, learn to soften down considerably their angry feelings; and to see, indeed, in the whole history of the connection,--from its first formation, in the hey-day of youth and party, to its faint survival after the death of mr. fox,--but a natural and destined gradation towards the result at which it at last arrived, after as much fluctuation of political principle, on one side, as there was of indifference, perhaps, to all political principle on the other. among the arrangements that had been made, in contemplation of a new ministry, at this time, it was intended that lord moira should go, as lord lieutenant, to ireland, and that mr. sheridan should accompany him, as chief secretary. chapter xi. affairs of the new theatre.--mr. whitbread.--negotiations with lord grey and lord grenville.--conduct of mr. sheridan relative to the household.--his last words in parliament.--failure at stafford. --correspondence with mr. whitbread.--lord byron.--distresses of sheridan.--illness.--death and funeral.--general remarks. it was not till the close of this year that the reports of the committee appointed under the act for rebuilding the theatre of drury-lane, were laid before the public. by these it appeared that sheridan was to receive, for his moiety of the property, , _l_., out of which sum the claims of the linley family and others were to be satisfied;--that a further sum of _l_. was to be paid to him for the property of the fruit offices and reversion of boxes and shares;--and that his son, mr. thomas sheridan, was to receive, for his quarter of the patent property, , _l_. the gratitude that sheridan felt to mr. whitbread at first, for the kindness with which he undertook this most arduous task, did not long remain unembittered when they entered into practical details. it would be difficult indeed to find two persons less likely to agree in a transaction of this nature,--the one, in affairs of business, approaching almost as near to the extreme of rigor as the other to that of laxity. while sheridan, too,--like those painters, who endeavor to disguise their ignorance of anatomy by an indistinct and _furzy_ outline,--had an imposing method of generalizing his accounts and statements, which, to most eyes, concealed the negligence and fallacy of the details, mr. whitbread, on the contrary, with an unrelenting accuracy, laid open the minutiae of every transaction, and made evasion as impossible to others, as it was alien and inconceivable to himself. he was, perhaps, the only person, whom sheridan had ever found proof against his powers of persuasion,--and this rigidity naturally mortified his pride full as much as it thwarted and disconcerted his views. among the conditions to which he agreed, in order to facilitate the arrangements of the committee, the most painful to him was that which stipulated that he, himself, should "have no concern or connection, of any kind whatever, with the new undertaking." this concession, however, he, at first, regarded as a mere matter of form--feeling confident that, even without any effort of his own, the necessity under which the new committee would find themselves of recurring to his advice and assistance, would, ere long, reinstate him in all his former influence. but in this hope he was disappointed--his exclusion from all concern in the new theatre, (which, it is said, was made a _sine-qua-non_ by all who embarked in it,) was inexorably enforced by whitbread; and the following letter addressed by him to the latter will show the state of their respective feelings on this point:-- "my dear whitbread, "i am not going to write you a controversial or even an argumentative letter, but simply to put down the heads of a few matters which i wish shortly to converse with you upon, in the most amicable and temperate manner, deprecating the impatience which may sometimes have mixed in our discussions, and not contending who has been the aggressor. "the main point you seem to have had so much at heart you have carried, so there is an end of that; and i shall as fairly and cordially endeavor to advise and assist mr. benjamin wyatt in the improving and perfecting his plan as if it had been my own preferable selection, assuming, as i must do, that there cannot exist an individual in england so presumptuous or so void of common sense as not sincerely to solicit the aid of my practical experience on this occasion, even were i not, in justice to the subscribers, bound spontaneously to offer it. "but it would be unmanly dissimulation in me to retain the sentiments i do with respect to _your_ doctrine on this subject, and not express what i so strongly feel. that doctrine was, to my utter astonishment, to say no more, first promulgated to me in a letter from you, written in town, in the following terms. speaking of building and plans, you say to me, '_you are in no, way answerable if a bad theatre is built: it is not_ you _who built it; and if we come to the_ strict right _of the thing, you have_ no business to interfere;' and further on you say, '_will_ you _but_ stand aloof, _and every thing will go smooth_, and a good theatre shall be built;' and in conversation you put, as a similar case, that, '_if a man sold another a piece of land, it was nothing to the seller whether the purchaser built himself a good or a bad house upon it._' now i declare before god i never felt more amazement than that a man of your powerful intellect, just view of all subjects, and knowledge of the world, should hold such language or resort to such arguments; and i must be convinced, that, although in an impatient moment this opinion may have fallen from you, upon the least reflection or the slightest attention to the reason of the case, you would, 'albeit unused to the retracting mood,' confess the erroneous view you had taken of the subject. otherwise, i must think, and with the deepest regret would it be, that although you originally engaged in this business from motives of the purest and kindest regard for me and my family, your ardor and zealous eagerness to accomplish the difficult task you had undertaken have led you, in this instance, to overlook what is due to my feelings, to my honor, and my just interests. for, supposing i were to '_stand aloof_,' totally unconcerned, provided i were paid for my share, whether the new theatre were excellent or execrable, and that the result should be that the subscribers, instead of profit, could not, through the misconstruction of the house, obtain one per cent. for their money, do you seriously believe you could find a single man, woman, or child, in the kingdom, out of the committee, who would believe that i was wholly guiltless of the failure, having been so stultified and proscribed by the committee, (a committee of _my own nomination)_ as to have been compelled to admit, as the condition of my being paid for my share, that 'it was nothing to me whether the theatre was good or bad' or, on the contrary? can it be denied that the reproaches of disappointment, through the great body of the subscribers, would be directed against me and me alone? "so much as to _character_:--now as to my feelings on the subject;--i must say that in friendship, at least, if not in '_strict right_,' they ought to be consulted, even though the committee could either prove that i had not to apprehend any share in the discredit and discontent which might follow the ill success of their plan, or that i was entitled to brave whatever malice or ignorance might direct against me. next, and lastly, as to my just interest in the property i am to part with, a consideration to which, however careless i might be were i alone concerned, i am bound to attend in justice to my own private creditors, observe how the matter stands:--i agree to wave my own '_strict right_' to be paid before the funds can be applied to the building, and this in the confidence and on the continued understanding, that my advice should be so far respected, that, even should the subscription not fill, i should at least see a theatre capable of being charged with and ultimately of discharging what should remain justly due to the proprietors. to illustrate this i refer to the size of the pit, the number of private boxes, and the annexation of a tavern; but in what a situation would the doctrine of your committee leave me and my son? 'it is nothing to us how the theatre is built, or whether it prospers or not.' these are two circumstances we have nothing to do with; only, unfortunately, upon them may depend our best chance of receiving any payment for the property we part with. it is nothing to us how the ship is refitted or manned, only we must leave all we are worth on board her, and abide the chance of her success. now i am confident your justice will see, that in order that the committee should, in '_strict right_,' become entitled to deal thus with us, and bid us _stand aloof_, they should buy us out, and make good the payment. but the reverse of this has been my own proposal, and i neither repent nor wish to make any change in it. "i have totally departed from my intention, when i first began this letter, for which i ought to apologize to you; but it may save much future talk: other less important matters will do in conversation. you will allow that i have placed in you the most implicit confidence--have the reasonable trust in me that, in any communication i may have with b. wyatt, my object will not be to _obstruct_, as you have hastily expressed it, but _bonâ fide_ to assist him to render his theatre as perfect as possible, as well with a view to the public accommodation as to profit to the subscribers; neither of which can be obtained without establishing a reputation for him which must be the basis of his future fortune. "and now, after all this statement, you will perhaps be surprised to find how little i require;--simply some resolution of the committee to the effect of that i enclose. "i conclude with heartily thanking you for the declaration you made respecting me, and reported to me by peter moore, at the close of the last meeting of the committee. i am convinced of your sincerity; but as i have before described the character of the gratitude i feel towards you in a letter written likewise in this house, i have only to say, that every sentiment in that letter remains unabated and unalterable. "ever, my dear whitbread, "yours, faithfully. "p.s. the discussion we had yesterday respecting some investigation of the _past_, which i deem so essential to my character and to my peace of mind, and your present concurrence with me on that subject, have relieved my mind from great anxiety, though i cannot but still think the better opportunity has been passed by. one word more, and i release you. tom informed me that you had hinted to him that any demands, not practicable to be settled by the committee, must fall on the proprietors. my resolution is to take all such on myself, and to leave tom's share untouched." another concession, which sheridan himself had volunteered, namely, the postponement of his right of being paid the amount of his claim, till after the theatre should be built, was also a subject of much acrimonious discussion between the two friends,--sheridan applying to this condition that sort of lax interpretation, which would have left him the credit of the sacrifice without its inconvenience, and whitbread, with a firmness of grasp, to which, unluckily, the other had been unaccustomed in business, holding him to the strict letter of his voluntary agreement with the subscribers. never, indeed, was there a more melancholy example than sheridan exhibited, at this moment, of the last, hard struggle of pride and delicacy against the most deadly foe of both, pecuniary involvement,--which thus gathers round its victims, fold after fold, till they are at length crushed in its inextricable clasp. the mere likelihood of a sum of money being placed at his disposal was sufficient--like the "bright day that brings forth the adder"--to call into life the activity of all his duns; and how liberally he made the fund available among them, appears from the following letter of whitbread, addressed, not to sheridan himself, but, apparently, (for the direction is wanting,) to some man of business connected with him:-- "my dear sir, "i had determined not to give any written answer to the note you put into my hands yesterday morning; but a further perusal of it leads me to think it better to make a statement in writing, why i, for one, cannot comply with the request it contains, and to repel the impression which appears to have existed in mr. sheridan's mind at the time that note was written. he insinuates that to some postponement of his interests, by the committee, is owing the distressed situation in which he is unfortunately placed. "whatever postponement of the interests of the proprietors may ultimately be resorted to, as matter of indispensable necessity from the state of the subscription fund, will originate in the written suggestion of mr. sheridan himself; and, in certain circumstances, unless such latitude were allowed on his part, the execution of the act could not have been attempted. "at present there is no postponement of his interests,--but there is an utter impossibility of touching the subscription fund at all, except for very trifling specified articles, until a supplementary act of parliament shall have been obtained. "by the present act, even if the subscription were full, and no impediments existed to the use of the money, the act itself, and the incidental expenses of plans, surveys, &c., are first to be paid for,--then the portion of killegrew's patent,--then the claimants,--and _then_ the proprietors. now the act is not paid for: white and martindale are not paid; and not one single claimant is paid, nor can any one of them _be_ paid, until we have fresh powers and additional subscriptions. "how then can mr. sheridan attribute to any postponement of his interests, actually made by the committee, the present condition of his affairs? and why are we driven to these observations and explanations? "we cannot but all deeply lament his distress, but the palliation he proposes it is not in our power to give. "we cannot guarantee mr. hammersley upon the fund coming eventually to mr. sheridan. he alludes to the claims he has already created upon that fund. he must, besides, recollect the list of names he sent to me some time ago, of persons to whom he felt himself in honor bound to appropriate to each his share of that fund, in common with others for whose names he left a blank, and who, he says in the same letter, have written engagements from him. besides, he has communicated both to mr. taylor and to mr. shaw, through me, offers to impound the whole of the sum to answer the issue of the unsettled demands made upon him by those gentlemen respectively. "how then can we guarantee mr. hammersley in the payment of any sum out of this fund, so circumstanced? mr. hammersley's possible profits are prospective, and the prospect remote. i know the positive losses he sustains, and the sacrifices he is obliged to make to procure the chance of the compromise he is willing to accept. "add to all this, that we are still struggling with difficulties which we may or may not overcome; that those difficulties are greatly increased by the persons whose interest and duty should equally lead them to give us every facility and assistance in the labors we have disinterestedly undertaken, and are determined faithfully to discharge. if we fail at last, from whatever cause, the whole vanishes. "you know, my dear sir, that i grieve for the sad state of mr. sheridan's affairs. i would contribute my mite to their temporary relief, if it would be acceptable; but as one of the committee, intrusted with a public fund, i can do nothing. i cannot be a party to any claim upon mr. hammersley; and i utterly deny that, individually, or as part of the committee, any step taken by me, or with my concurrence, has pressed upon the circumstances of mr. sheridan. "i am, "my dear sir, "faithfully yours, "_southill, dec. , ."_ "samuel whitbread." a dissolution of parliament being expected to take place, mr. sheridan again turned his eyes to stafford; and, in spite of the estrangement to which his infidelities at westminster had given rise, saw enough, he thought, of the "_veteris vestigia flammae_" to encourage him to hope for a renewal of the connection. the following letter to sir oswald moseley explains his views and expectations on the subject:-- "dear sir oswald, "_cavendish-square, nov. , ._ "being apprised that you have decided to decline offering yourself a candidate for stafford, when a future election may arrive,--a place where you are highly esteemed, and where every humble service in my power, as i have before declared to you, should have been at your command,--i have determined to accept the very cordial invitations i have received from _old friends_ in that quarter, and, (though entirely secure of my seat at ilchester, and, indeed, even of the second seat for my son, through the liberality of sir w. manners), to return to the old goal from whence i started thirty-one years since! you will easily see that arrangements at ilchester may be made towards assisting me, in point of expense, to meet _any opposition_, and, _in that respect,_ nothing will be _wanting._ it will, i confess, be very gratifying to me to be again elected _by the sons of those_ who chose me in the year _eighty_, and adhered to me so stoutly and so long. i think i was returned for stafford seven, if not eight, times, including two most tough and expensive contests; and, in taking a temporary leave of them i am sure my credit must stand well, for not a shilling did i leave unpaid. i have written to the jerninghams, who, in the handsomest manner, have ever given me their warmest support; and, as no political object interests my mind so much as the catholic cause, i have no doubt that independent of their personal friendship, i shall receive a continuation of their honorable support. i feel it to be no presumption to add, that other respectable interests in the neighborhood will be with me. "i need scarcely add my sanguine hope, that whatever interest rests with you, (which ought to be much), will also be in my favor. "i have the honor to be, "with great esteem and regard, "yours most sincerely, "r. b. sheridan." "i mean to be in stafford, from lord g. levison's, in about a fortnight." among a number of notes addressed to his former constituents at this time, (which i find written in his neatest hand, as if _intended_ to be sent), is this curious one:-- "dear king john, "_cavendish-square, sunday night_, "i shall be in stafford in the course of next week, and if your majesty does not renew our old alliance i shall never again have faith in any potentate on earth. "yours very sincerely, "_mr. john k_. "r. b. sheridan." the two attempts that were made in the course of the year --the one, on the cessation of the regency restrictions, and the other after the assassination of mr. perceval,--to bring the whigs into official relations with the court, were, it is evident, but little inspired on either side, with the feelings likely to lead to such a result. it requires but a perusal of the published correspondence in both cases to convince us that, at the bottom of all these evolutions of negotiation, there was anything but a sincere wish that the object to which they related should be accomplished. the maréchal bassompiere was not more afraid of succeeding in his warfare, when he said, _"je crois que nous serons assez fous pour prendre la rochelle_," than was one of the parties, at least, in these negotiations, of any favorable turn that might inflict success upon its overtures. even where the court, as in the contested point of the household, professed its readiness to accede to the surrender so injudiciously demanded of it, those who acted as its discretionary organs knew too well the real wishes in that quarter, and had been too long and faithfully zealous in their devotion to those wishes to leave any fear that advantage would be taken of the concession. but, however high and chivalrous was the feeling with which lord moira, on this occasion, threw himself into the breach for his royal master, the service of sheridan, though flowing partly from the same zeal, was not, i grieve to say, of the same clear and honorable character. lord yarmouth, it is well known, stated in the house of commons that he had communicated to mr. sheridan the intention of the household to resign, with the view of having that intention conveyed to lord grey and lord grenville, and thus removing the sole ground upon which these noble lords objected to the acceptance of office. not only, however, did sheridan endeavor to dissuade the noble vice-chamberlain from resigning, but with an unfairness of dealing which admits, i own, of no vindication, he withheld from the two leaders of opposition the intelligence thus meant to be conveyed to them; and, when questioned by mr. tierney as to the rumored intentions of the household to resign, offered to bet five hundred guineas that there was no such step in contemplation. in this conduct, which he made but a feeble attempt to explain, and which i consider as the only indefensible part of his whole public life, he was, in some degree, no doubt, influenced by personal feelings against the two noble lords, whom his want of fairness on the occasion was so well calculated to thwart and embarrass. but the main motive of the whole proceeding is to be found in his devoted deference to what he knew to be the wishes and feelings of that personage, who had become now, more than ever, the mainspring of all his movements,--whose spell over him, in this instance, was too strong for even his sense of character; and to whom he might well have applied the words of one of his own beautiful songs-- "friends, fortune, _fame itself_ i'd lose, to gain one smile from thee!" so fatal, too often, are royal friendships, whose attraction, like the loadstone-rock in eastern fable, that drew the nails out of the luckless ship that came near it, steals gradually away the strength by which character is held together, till, at last, it loosens at all points, and falls to pieces, a wreck! in proof of the fettering influence under which he acted on this occasion, we find him in one of his evasive attempts at vindication, suppressing, from delicacy to his royal master, a circumstance which, if mentioned, would have redounded considerably to his own credit. after mentioning that the regent had "asked his opinion with respect to the negotiations that were going on," he adds, "i gave him my opinion, and i most devoutly wish that that opinion could be published to the world, that it might serve to shame those who now belie me." the following is the fact to which these expressions allude. when the prince-regent, on the death of mr. perceval, entrusted to lord wellesley the task of forming an administration, it appears that his royal highness had signified either his intention or wish to exclude a certain noble earl from the arrangements to be made under that commission. on learning this, sheridan not only expressed strongly his opinion against such a step, but having, afterwards, reason to fear that the freedom with which he spoke on the subject had been displeasing to the regent, he addressed a letter to that illustrious person, (a copy of which i have in my possession,) in which, after praising the "wisdom and magnanimity" displayed by his royal highness, in confiding to lord wellesley the powers that had just been entrusted to him, he repeated his opinion that any "proscription" of the noble earl in question, would be "a proceeding equally derogatory to the estimation of his royal highness's personal dignity and the security of his political power;"--adding, that the advice, which he took the liberty of giving against such a step, did not proceed "from any peculiar partiality to the noble earl or to many of those with whom he was allied; but was founded on what he considered to be best for his royal highness's honor and interest, and for the general interests of the country." the letter (in alluding to the displeasure which he feared he had incurred by venturing this opinion) concludes thus:-- "junius said in a public letter of his, addressed to your royal father, 'the fate that made you a king forbad your having a friend.' i deny his proposition as a general maxim--i am confident that your royal highness possesses qualities to win and secure to you the attachment and devotion of private friendship, in spite of your being a sovereign. at least i feel that i am entitled to make this declaration as far as relates to myself--and i do it under the assured conviction that you will never require from me any proof of that attachment and devotion inconsistent with the clear and honorable independence of mind and conduct, which constitute my sole value as a public man, and which have hitherto been my best recommendation to your gracious favor, confidence, and protection." it is to be regretted that while by this wise advice he helped to save his royal master from the invidious _appearance_ of acting upon a principle of exclusion, he should, by his private management afterwards, have but too well contrived to secure to him all the advantage of that principle in _reality_. the political career of sheridan was now drawing fast to a close. he spoke but upon two or three other occasions during the session; and among the last sentences uttered by him in the house were the following;--which, as calculated to leave a sweeter flavor on the memory, at parting, than those questionable transactions that have just been related, i have great pleasure in citing:-- "my objection to the present ministry, is that they are avowedly arrayed and embodied against a principle,--that of concession to the catholics of ireland,--which i think, and must always think, essential to the safety of this empire. i will never give my vote to any administration that opposes the question of catholic emancipation. i will not consent to receive a furlough upon that particular question, even though a ministry were carrying every other that i wished. in fine, i think the situation of ireland a paramount consideration. if they were to be the last words i should ever utter in this house, i should say, 'be just to ireland, as you value your own honor,--be just to ireland, as you value your own peace.'" his very last words in parliament, on his own motion relative to the overtures of peace from france, were as follow:-- "yet after the general subjugation and ruin of europe, should there ever exist an independent historian to record the awful events that produced this universal calamity, let that historian have to say,--'great britain fell, and with her fell all the best securities for the charities of human life, for the power and honor, the fame, the glory, and the liberties, not only of herself, but of the whole civilized world.'" in the month of september following, parliament was dissolved; and, presuming upon the encouragement which he had received from some of his stafford friends, he again tried his chance of election for that borough, but without success. this failure he, himself, imputed, as will be seen by the following letter, to the refusal of mr. whitbread to advance him _l._ out of the sum due to him by the committee for his share of the property:-- "dear whitbread, "_cook's hotel, nov._ , . "i was misled to expect you in town the beginning of last week, but being positively assured that you will arrive to-morrow, i have declined accompanying hester into hampshire as i intended, and she has gone to-day without me; but i must leave town to join her _as soon as i can_. we must have some serious but yet, i hope, friendly conversation respecting my unsettled claims on the drury-lane theatre corporation. a concluding paragraph, in one of your last letters to burgess, which he thought himself justified in showing me, leads me to believe that it is not your object to distress or destroy me. on the subject of your refusing to advance to me the _l._. i applied for to take with me to stafford, out of the large sum confessedly due to me, (unless i signed some paper containing i know not what, and which you presented to my breast like a cocked pistol on the last day i saw you,) i will not dwell. _this, and this alone, lost me my election._ you deceive yourself if you give credit to any other causes, which the pride of my friends chose to attribute our failure to, rather than confess our poverty. i do not mean now to expostulate with you, much less to reproach you, but sure i am that when you contemplate the positive injustice of refusing me the accommodation i required, and the irreparable injury that refusal has cast on me, overturning, probably, all the honor and independence of what remains of my political life, you will deeply reproach yourself. "i shall make an application to the committee, when i hear you have appointed one, for the assistance which most pressing circumstances now compel me to call for; and all i desire is, through a sincere wish that our friendship may not be interrupted, that the answer to that application may proceed from a _bonâ fide committee, with their signatures_, testifying their decision. "i am, yet, "yours very sincerely, "_s. whitbread, esq._ "r. b. sheridan." notwithstanding the angry feeling which is expressed in this letter, and which the state of poor sheridan's mind, goaded as he was now by distress and disappointment, may well excuse, it will be seen by the following letter from whitbread, written on the very eve of the elections in september, that there was no want of inclination, on the part of this honorable and excellent man, to afford assistance to his friend,--but that the duties of the perplexing trust which he had undertaken rendered such irregular advances as sheridan required impossible:-- 'my dear sheridan, "we will not enter into details, although you are quite mistaken in them. you know how happy i shall be to propose to the committee to agree to anything practicable; and you may make all practicable, if you will have resolution to look at the state of the account between you and the committee, and agree to the mode of its liquidation. "you will recollect the _l_. pledged to peter moore to answer demands; the certificates given to giblet, ker, ironmonger, cross, and hirdle, five each at your request; the engagements given to ellis and myself, and the arrears to the linley family. all this taken into consideration will leave a large balance still payable to you. still there are upon that balance the claims upon you by shaw, taylor, and grubb, for all of which you have offered to leave the whole of your compensation in my hands, to abide the issue of arbitration. "this may be managed by your agreeing to take a considerable portion of your balance in bonds, leaving those bonds in trust to answer the events. "i shall be in town on monday to the committee, and will be prepared with a sketch of the state of your account with the committee, and with the mode in which i think it would be prudent for you and them to adjust it; which if you will agree to, and direct the conveyance to be made forthwith, i will undertake to propose the advance of money you wish. but without a clear arrangement, as a justification, nothing can be done. "i shall be in dover-street at nine o'clock, and be there and in drury-lane all day. the queen comes, but the day is not fixed. the election will occupy me after monday. after that is over, i hope we shall see you. "yours very truly, "_southill, sept. , ._ "s. whitbread." the feeling entertained by sheridan towards the committee had already been strongly manifested this year by the manner in which mrs. sheridan received the resolution passed by them, offering her the use of a box in the new theatre. the notes of whitbread to mrs. sheridan on this subject, prove how anxious he was to conciliate the wounded feelings of his friend:-- "my dear esther, "i have delayed sending the enclosed resolution of the drury-lane committee to you, because i had hoped to have found a moment to have called upon you, and to have delivered it into your hands. but i see no chance of that, and therefore literally obey my instructions in writing to you. "i had great pleasure in proposing the resolution, which was cordially and unanimously adopted. i had it always in contemplation,--but to have proposed it earlier would have been improper. i hope you will derive much amusement from your visits to the theatre, and that you and all of your name will ultimately be pleased with what has been done. i have just had a most satisfactory letter from tom sheridan. "i am, "my dear esther, "affectionately yours, "_dover-street, july , ._ "samuel whitbread." "my dear esther, "it has been a great mortification and disappointment to me, to have met the committee twice, since the offer of the use of a box at the new theatre was made to you, and that i have not had to report the slightest acknowledgment from you in return. "the committee meet again tomorrow, and after that there will be no meeting for some time. if i shall be compelled to return the same blank answer i have hitherto done, the inference drawn will naturally be, that what was designed by himself, who moved it, and by those who voted it, as a gratifying mark of attention to sheridan through you, (as the most gratifying mode of conveying it,) has, for some unaccountable reason, been mistaken and is declined. "but i shall be glad to know before to-morrow, what is your determination on the subject. "i am, dear esther, "affectionately yours, "_dover-street, july_ , ." "s. whitbread. the failure of sheridan at stafford completed his ruin. he was now excluded both from the theatre and from parliament:--the two anchors by which he held in life were gone, and he was left a lonely and helpless wreck upon the waters. the prince regent offered to bring him into parliament; but the thought of returning to that scene of his triumphs and his freedom, with the royal owner's mark, as it were, upon him, was more than he could bear--and he declined the offer. indeed, miserable and insecure as his life was now, when we consider the public humiliations to which he would have been exposed, between his ancient pledge to whiggism and his attachment and gratitude to royalty, it is not wonderful that he should have preferred even the alternative of arrests and imprisonments to the risk of bringing upon his political name any further tarnish in such a struggle. neither could his talents have much longer continued to do themselves justice, amid the pressure of such cares, and the increased indulgence of habits, which, as is usual, gained upon him, as all other indulgences vanished. the ancients, we are told, by a significant device, inscribed on the wreaths they wore at banquets the name of minerva. unfortunately, from the festal wreath of sheridan this name was now but too often effaced; and the same charm, that once had served to give a quicker flow to thought, was now employed to muddy the stream, as it became painful to contemplate what was at the bottom of it. by his exclusion, therefore, from parliament, he was, perhaps, seasonably saved from affording to that "folly, which loves the martyrdom of fame," [footnote: "and folly loves the martyrdom of fame." this fine line is in lord byron's monody to his memory. there is another line, equally true and touching, where, alluding to the irregularities of the latter part of sheridan's life, he says-- "and what to them seem'd vice might be but woe."] the spectacle of a great mind, not only surviving itself, but, like the champion in berni, continuing the combat after life is gone:-- _"andava combattendo, ed era morto."_ in private society, however, he could, even now, (before the rubicon of the cup was passed,) fully justify his high reputation for agreeableness and wit; and a day which it was my good fortune to spend with him, at the table of mr. rogers, has too many mournful, as well as pleasant, associations connected with it, to be easily forgotten by the survivors of the party. the company consisted but of mr. rogers himself, lord byron, mr. sheridan, and the writer of this memoir. sheridan knew the admiration his audience felt for him; the presence of the young poet, in particular, seemed to bring back his own youth and wit; and the details he gave of his early life were not less interesting and animating to himself than delightful to us. it was in the course of this evening that, describing to us the poem which mr. whitbread had written and sent in, among the other addresses, for the opening of drury-lane, and which, like the rest, turned chiefly on allusions to the phenix, he said,--"but whitbread made more of this bird than any of them:--he entered into particulars, and described its wings, beak, tail, &c.; in short, it was a _poulterer's_ description of a phenix!" the following extract from a diary in my possession, kept by lord byron during six months of his residence in london, - , will show the admiration which this great and generous spirit felt for sheridan:-- "_saturday, december , ._ "lord holland told me a curious piece of _sentimentality_ in sheridan. the other night we were all delivering our respective and various opinions on him and other '_hommes marquans,_' and mine was this:--'whatever sheridan has done or chosen to do has been _par excellence_, always the _best_ of its kind. he has written the _best_ comedy, (school for scandal,) the _best_ opera, (the duenna--in my mind far before that st. giles's lampoon, the beggar's opera,) the _best_ farce, (the critic--it is only too good for an after-piece,) and the _best_ address, (monologue on garrick,)--and to crown all, delivered the very _best_ oration, (the famous begum speech,) ever conceived or heard in this country.' somebody told sheridan this the next day, and on hearing it, he burst into tears!--poor brinsley! if they were tears of pleasure, i would rather have said those few, but sincere, words, than have written the iliad, or made his own celebrated philippic. nay, his own comedy never gratified me more than to hear that he had derived a moment's gratification from any praise of mine --humble as it must appear to 'my elders and my betters.'" the distresses of sheridan now increased every day, and through the short remainder of his life it is a melancholy task to follow him. the sum arising from the sale of his theatrical property was soon exhausted by the various claims upon it, and he was driven to part with all that he most valued, to satisfy further demands and provide for the subsistence of the day. those books which, as i have already mentioned, were presented to him by various friends, now stood in their splendid bindings, [footnote: in most of them, too, were the names of the givers. the delicacy with which mr. harrison of wardour-street, (the pawnbroker with whom the books and the cup were deposited,) behaved, after the death of mr. sheridan, deserves to be mentioned with praise. instead of availing himself of the public feeling at that moment, by submitting these precious relics to the competition of a sale, he privately communicated to the family and one or two friends of sheridan the circumstance of his having such articles in his hands, and demanded nothing more than the sum regularly due on them. the stafford cup is in the possession of mr. charles sheridan.] on the shelves of the pawnbroker. the handsome cup, given him by the electors of stafford, shared the same fate. three or four fine pictures by gainsborough, and one by morland, were sold for little more than five hundred pounds; [footnote: in the following extract from a note to his solicitor, he refers to these pictures: "dear burgess, "i am perfectly satisfied with your account;--nothing can be more clear or fair, or more disinterested on your part;--but i must grieve to think that five or six hundred pounds for my poor pictures are added to the expenditure. however, we shall come through!"] and even the precious portrait of his first wife, [footnote: as saint cecilia. the portrait of mrs. sheridan at knowle, though less ideal than that of sir joshua, is, (for this very reason, perhaps, as bearing a closer resemblance to the original,) still more beautiful.] by reynolds, though not actually sold during his life, vanished away from his eyes into other hands. one of the most humiliating trials of his pride was yet to come. in the spring of this year he was arrested and carried to a spunging-house, where he remained two or three days. this abode, from which the following painful letter to whitbread was written, formed a sad contrast to those princely halls, of which he had so lately been the most brilliant and favored guest, and which were possibly, at that very moment, lighted up and crowded with gay company, unmindful of him within those prison walls:-- "_tooke's court, cursitor-street, thursday, past two._ "i have done everything in my power with the solicitors, white and founes, to obtain my release, by substituting a better security for them than their detaining me--but in vain. "whitbread, putting all false professions of friendship and feeling out of the question, you have no right to keep me here!--for it is in truth _your_ act--if you had not forcibly withheld from me the _twelve thousand pounds_, in consequence of a threatening letter from a miserable swindler, whose claim you in particular knew to _be a lie_, i should at least have been out of the reach of _this_ state of miserable insult--for that, and that only, lost me my seat in parliament. and i assert that you cannot find a lawyer in the land, that is not either a natural-born fool or a corrupted scoundrel, who will not declare that your conduct in this respect was neither warrantable nor legal--but let that pass _for the present_. "independently of the _l_. ignorantly withheld from me on the day of considering my last claim. i require of you to answer the draft i send herewith on the part of the committee, pledging myself to prove to them on the first day i can _personally_ meet them, that there are still thousands and thousands due to me, both legally, and equitably, from the theatre. my word ought to be taken on this subject; and you may produce to them this document, if one, among them could think that, under all the circumstances, your conduct required a justification. o god! with what mad confidence have i trusted _your word_,--i ask _justice_ from you, and _no boon_. i enclosed you yesterday three different securities, which had you been disposed to have acted even as a private friend, would have made it _certain_ that you might have done so _without the smallest risk_. these you discreetly offered to put into the fire, when you found the object of your humane visit satisfied by seeing me safe in prison. "i shall only add, that, i think, if i know myself, had our lots been reversed, and i had seen you in my situation, and had left lady e. in that of my wife, i would have risked _l_. rather than have left you so--although i had been in no way accessory in bringing you into that condition. "_s. whitbread. esq._ "r. b. sheridan." even in this situation the sanguineness of his disposition did not desert him; for he was found by mr. whitbread, on his visit to the spunging-house, confidently calculating on the representation for westminster, in which the proceedings relative to lord cochrane at that moment promised a vacancy. on his return home, however, to mrs. sheridan, (some arrangements having been made by whitbread for his release,) all his fortitude forsook him, and he burst into a long and passionate fit of weeping at the profanation, as he termed it, which his person had suffered. he had for some months had a feeling that his life was near its close; and i find the following touching passage in a letter from him to mrs. sheridan, after one of those differences which will sometimes occur between the most affectionate companions, and which, possibly, a remonstrance on his irregularities and want of care of himself occasioned:--"never again let one harsh word pass between us, during the period, which may not perhaps be long, that we are in this world together, and life, however clouded to me, is mutually spared to us. i have expressed this same sentiment to my son, in a letter i wrote to him a few days since, and i had his answer--a most affecting one, and, i am sure, very sincere--and have since cordially embraced him. don't imagine that i am expressing an interesting apprehension about myself, which i do not feel." though the new theatre of drury-lane had now been three years built, his feelings had never allowed him to set his foot within its walls. about this time, however, he was persuaded by his friend, lord essex, to dine with him and go in the evening to his lordship's box, to see kean. once there, the "_genius loci_" seems to have regained its influence over him; for, on missing him from the box, between the acts, lord essex, who feared that he had left the house, hastened out to inquire, and, to his great satisfaction, found him installed in the green-room, with all the actors around him, welcoming him back to the old region of his glory, with a sort of filial cordiality. wine was immediately ordered, and a bumper to the health of mr. sheridan was drank by all present, with the expression of many a hearty wish that he would often, very often, re-appear among them. this scene, as was natural, exhilarated his spirits, and, on parting with lord essex that night, at his own door, in saville-row, he said triumphantly that the world would soon hear of him, for the duke of norfolk was about to bring him into parliament. this, it appears, was actually the case; but death stood near as he spoke. in a few days after his last fatal illness began. amid all the distresses of these latter years of his life, he appears but rarely to have had recourse to pecuniary assistance from friends. mr. peter moore, mr. ironmonger, and one or two others, who did more for the comfort of his decline than any of his high and noble associates, concur in stating that, except for such an occasional trifle as his coach-hire, he was by no means, as has been sometimes asserted, in the habit of borrowing. one instance, however, where he laid himself under this sort of obligation, deserves to be mentioned. soon after the return of mr. canning from lisbon, a letter was put into his hands, in the house of commons, which proved to be a request from his old friend sheridan, then lying ill in bed, that he would oblige him with the loan of a hundred pounds. it is unnecessary to say that the request was promptly and feelingly complied with; and if the pupil has ever regretted leaving the politics of his master, it was not at _that_ moment, at least, such a feeling was likely to present itself. there are, in the possession of a friend of sheridan, copies of a correspondence in which he was engaged this year with two noble lords and the confidential agent of an illustrious personage, upon a subject, as it appears, of the utmost delicacy and importance. the letters of sheridan, it is said, (for i have not seen them,) though of too secret and confidential a nature to meet the public eye, not only prove the great confidence reposed in him by the parties concerned, but show the clearness and manliness of mind which he could still command, under the pressure of all that was most trying to human intellect. the disorder, with which he was now attacked, arose from a diseased state of the stomach, brought on partly by irregular living, and partly by the harassing anxieties that had, for so many years, without intermission, beset him. his powers of digestion grew every day worse, till he was at length unable to retain any sustenance. notwithstanding this, however, his strength seemed to be but little broken, and his pulse remained, for some time, strong and regular. had he taken, indeed, but ordinary care of himself through life, the robust conformation of his frame, and particularly, as i have heard his physician remark, the peculiar width and capaciousness of his chest, seemed to mark him out for a long course of healthy existence. in general nature appears to have a prodigal delight in enclosing her costliest essences in the most frail and perishable vessels:--but sheridan was a signal exception to this remark; for, with a spirit so "finely touched," he combined all the robustness of the most uninspired clay. mrs. sheridan was, at first, not aware of his danger; but dr. bain--whose skill was now, as it ever had been, disinterestedly at the service of his friend, [footnote: a letter from sheridan to this amiable man, (of which i know not the date,) written in reference to a caution which he had given mrs. sheridan, against sleeping in the same bed with a lady who was consumptive, expresses feelings creditable alike to the writer and his physician:-- "my dear sir, "_july ._ "the caution you recommend proceeds from that attentive kindness which hester always receives from you, and upon which i place the greatest reliance for her safety. i so entirely agree with your apprehensions on the subject, that i think it was very giddy in me not to have been struck with them when she first mentioned having slept with her friend. nothing can abate my love for her; and the manner in which you apply the interest you take in her happiness, and direct the influence you possess in her mind, render you, beyond comparison, the person i feel most obliged to upon earth. i take this opportunity of saying this upon paper, because it is a subject on which i always find it difficult to speak. "with respect to that part of your note in which you express such friendly partiality, as to my parliamentary conduct, i need not add that there is no man whose good opinion can be more flattering to me. "i am ever, my dear bain, "your sincere and obliged "r. b. sheridan."]--thought it right to communicate to her the apprehensions that he felt. from that moment, her attentions to the sufferer never ceased day or night; and, though drooping herself with an illness that did not leave her long behind him, she watched over his every word and wish, with unremitting anxiety, to the last. connected, no doubt, with the disorganization of his stomach, was an abscess, from which, though distressingly situated, he does not appear to have suffered much pain. in the spring of this year, however, he was obliged to confine himself, almost entirely, to his bed. being expected to attend the st. patrick's dinner, on the th of march, he wrote a letter to the duke of kent, who was president, alleging severe indisposition as the cause of his absence. the contents of this letter were communicated to the company, and produced, as appears by the following note from the duke of kent, a strong sensation:-- _kensington palace, march_ , . "my dear sheridan, "i have been so hurried ever since st. patrick's day, as to be unable earlier to thank you for your kind letter, which i received while presiding at the festive board; but i can assure you, i was not unmindful of it _then_, but announced the afflicting cause of your absence to the company, who expressed, in a manner that could not be _misunderstood_, their continued affection for the writer of it. it now only remains for me to assure you, that i appreciate as i ought the sentiments of attachment it contains for me, and which will ever be most cordially returned by him, who is with the most friendly regard, my dear sheridan, "yours faithfully, "_the right hon. r. b. sheridan_. "edward." the following letter to him at this time from his elder sister will be read with interest:-- "my dear brother, "_dublin, may , ._ "i am very, very sorry you are ill; but i trust in god your naturally strong constitution will retrieve all, and that i shall soon have the satisfaction of hearing that you are in a fair way of recovery. i well know the nature of your complaint, that it is extremely painful, but if properly treated, and no doubt you have the best advice, not dangerous. i know a lady now past seventy four, who many years since was attacked with a similar complaint, and is now as well as most persons of her time of life. where poulticing is necessary, i have known oatmeal used with the best effect. forgive, dear brother, this officious zeal. your son thomas told me he felt obliged to me for not prescribing for him. i did not, because in his case i thought it would be ineffectual; in yours i have reason to hope the contrary. i am very glad to hear of the good effect change of climate has made in him;--i took a great liking to him; there was something kind in his manner that won upon my affections. of your son charles i hear the most delightful accounts:--that he has an excellent and cultivated understanding, and a heart as good. may he be a blessing to you, and a compensation for much you have endured! that i do not know him, that i have not seen you, (so early and so long the object of my affection,) for so many years, has not been my fault; but i have ever considered it as a drawback upon a situation not otherwise unfortunate; for, to use the words of goldsmith, i have endeavored to 'draw upon content for the deficiencies of fortune;' and truly i have had some employment in that way, for considerable have been our worldly disappointments. but those are not the worst evils of life, and we have good children, which is its first blessing. i have often told you my son tom bore a strong resemblance to you, when i loved you preferably to any thing the world contained. this, which was the case with him in childhood and early youth, is still so in mature years. in character of mind, too, he is very like you, though education and situation have made a great difference. at that period of existence, when the temper, morals, and propensities are formed, tom had a mother who watched over his health, his well-being, and every part of education in which a female could be useful. _you_ had lost a mother who would have cherished you, whose talents you inherited, who would have softened the asperity of our father's temper, and probably have prevented his unaccountable partialities. you have always shown a noble independence of spirit, that the pecuniary difficulties you often had to encounter could not induce you to forego. as a public man, you have been, like the motto of the lefanu family, '_sine macula_,' and i am persuaded had you not too early been thrown upon the world, and alienated from your family, you would have been equally good as a private character. my son is eminently so. * * * "do, dear brother, send me one line to tell me you are better, and believe me, most affectionately, "yours, "alicia leeanu." while death was thus gaining fast on sheridan, the miseries of his life were thickening around him also; nor did the last corner, in which he now lay down to die, afford him any asylum from the clamors of his legal pursuers. writs and executions came in rapid succession, and bailiffs at length gained possession of his house. it was about the beginning of may that lord holland, on being informed by mr. rogers, (who was one of the very few that watched the going out of this great light with interest,) of the dreary situation in which his old friend was lying, paid him a visit one evening, in company with mr. rogers, and by the cordiality, suavity, and cheerfulness of his conversation, shed a charm round that chamber of sickness, which, perhaps, no other voice but his own could have imparted. sheridan was, i believe, sincerely attached to lord holland, in whom he saw transmitted the same fine qualities, both of mind and heart, which, notwithstanding occasional appearances to the contrary, he had never ceased to love and admire in his great relative;--the same ardor for right and impatience of wrong--the same mixture of wisdom and simplicity, so tempering each other, as to make the simplicity refined and the wisdom unaffected--the same gentle magnanimity of spirit, intolerant only of tyranny and injustice--and, in addition to all this, a range and vivacity of conversation, entirely his own, which leaves no subject untouched or unadorned, but is, (to borrow a fancy of dryden,) "as the morning of the mind," bringing new objects and images successively into view, and scattering its own fresh light over all. such a visit, therefore, could not fail to be soothing and gratifying to sheridan; and, on parting, both lord holland and mr. rogers comforted him with the assurance that some steps should be taken to ward off the immediate evils that he dreaded. an evening or two after, (wednesday, may ,) i was with mr. rogers, when, on returning home, he found the following afflicting note upon his table:-- "_saville-row_. "i find things settled so that _l_. will remove all difficulty. i am absolutely undone and broken-hearted. i shall negotiate for the plays successfully in the course of a week, when all shall be returned. i have desired fairbrother to get back the guarantee for thirty. "they are going to put the carpets out of window, and break into mrs. s.'s room and _take me_--for god's sake let me see you. "r. b. s." it was too late to do any thing when this note was received, being then between twelve and one at night; but mr. rogers and i walked down to saville-row together to assure ourselves that the threatened arrest had not yet been put in execution. a servant spoke to us out of the area, and said that all was safe for the night, but that it was intended, in pursuance of this new proceeding, to paste bills over the front of the house next day. on the following morning i was early with mr. rogers, and willingly undertook to be the bearer of a draft for _l_. [footnote: lord holland afterwards insisted upon paying the half of this sum,--which was not the first of the same amount that my liberal friend, mr. rogers, had advanced for sheridan.] to saville-row. i found mr. sheridan good-natured and cordial as ever; and though he was then within a few weeks of his death, his voice had not lost its fulness or strength, nor was that lustre, for which his eyes were so remarkable, diminished. he showed, too, his usual sanguineness of disposition in speaking of the price that he expected for his dramatic works, and of the certainty he felt of being able to arrange all his affairs, if his complaint would but suffer him to leave his bed. in the following month, his powers began rapidly to fail him;--his stomach was completely worn out, and could no longer bear any kind of sustenance. during the whole of this time, as far as i can learn, it does not appear that, (with the exceptions i have mentioned,) any one of his noble or royal friends ever called at his door, or even sent to inquire after him! about this period doctor bain received the following note from mr. vaughan:-- "my dear sir, "an apology in a case of humanity is scarcely necessary, besides i have the honor of a slight acquaintance with you. a friend of mine, hearing of _our friend_ sheridan's forlorn situation, and that he has neither money nor credit for a few comforts, has employed me to convey a small sum for his use, through such channel as i think right. i can devise none better than through you. if i had had the good fortune to have seen you, i should have left for this purpose a draft for _l_. perhaps as much more might be had if it will be conducive to a good end--of course you must feel it is not for the purpose of satisfying troublesome people. i will say more to you if you will do me the honor of a call in your way to saville-street to-morrow. i am a mere agent. "i am, "my dear sir, "most truly yours, " , _grafton-street_. "john taylor vaughan. "if i should not see you before twelve, i will come through the passage to you." in his interview with dr. bain, mr. vaughan stated, that the sum thus placed at his disposal was, in all, _l_.; [footnote: mr. vaughan did not give doctor bain to understand that he was authorized to go beyond the _l_.; but, in a conversation which i had with him a year or two after, in contemplation of this memoir, he told me that a further supply was intended.] and the proposition being submitted to mrs. sheridan, that lady, after consulting with some of her relatives, returned for answer that, as there was a sufficiency of means to provide all that was necessary for her husband's comfort, as well as her own, she begged leave to decline the offer. mr. vaughan always said, that the donation, thus meant to be doled out, came from a royal hand;--but this is hardly credible. it would be safer, perhaps, to let the suspicion rest upon that gentleman's memory, of having indulged his own benevolent disposition in this disguise, than to suppose it possible that so scanty and reluctant a benefaction was the sole mark of attention accorded by a "gracious prince and master" [footnote: see sheridan's letter, page .] to the last, death-bed wants of one of the most accomplished and faithful servants, that royalty ever yet raised or ruined by its smiles. when the philosopher anaxagoras lay dying for want of sustenance, his great pupil, pericles, sent him a sum of money. "take it back," said anaxagoras--"if he wished to keep the lamp alive, he ought to have administered the oil before!" in the mean time, the clamors and incursions of creditors increased. a sheriff's officer at length arrested the dying man in his bed, and was about to carry him off, in his blankets, to a spunging-house, when doctor bain interfered--and, by threatening the officer with the responsibility he must incur, if, as was but too probable, his prisoner should expire on the way, averted this outrage. about the middle of june, the attention and sympathy of the public were, for the first time, awakened to the desolate situation of sheridan, by an article that appeared in the morning post,--written, as i understand, by a gentleman, who, though on no very cordial terms with him, forgot every other feeling in a generous pity for his fate, and in honest indignation against those who now deserted him. "oh delay not," said the writer, without naming the person to whom he alluded--"delay not to draw aside the curtain within which that proud spirit hides its sufferings." he then adds, with a striking anticipation of what afterwards happened:--"prefer ministering in the chamber of sickness to mustering at 'the splendid sorrows that adorn the hearse;' i say, _life_ and _succor_ against westminster-abbey and a funeral!" this article produced a strong and general sensation, and was reprinted in the same paper the following day. its effect, too, was soon visible in the calls made at sheridan's door, and in the appearance of such names as the duke of york, the duke of argyle, &c. among the visitors. but it was now too late;--the spirit, that these unavailing tributes might once have comforted, was now fast losing the consciousness of every thing earthly, but pain. after a succession of shivering fits, he fell into a state of exhaustion, in which he continued, with but few more signs of suffering, till his death. a day or two before that event, the bishop of london read prayers by his bed-side; and on sunday, the seventh of july, in the sixty-fifth year of his age, he died. on the following saturday the funeral took place;--his remains having been previously removed from saville-row to the house of his friend, mr. peter moore, in great george-street, westminster. from thence, at one o'clock, the procession moved on foot to the abbey, where, in the only spot in poet's corner that remained unoccupied, the body was interred; and the following simple inscription marks its resting-place:-- "richard brinsley sheridan, born, , died, th july, . this marble is the tribute of an attached friend, peter moore." seldom has there been seen such an array of rank as graced this funeral. [footnote: it was well remarked by a french journal, in contrasting the penury of sheridan's latter years with the splendor of his funeral, that "france is the place for a man of letters to live in, and england the place for him to die in."] the pall-bearers were the duke of bedford, the earl of lauderdale, earl mulgrave, the lord bishop of london, lord holland, and lord spencer. among the mourners were his royal highness the duke of york, his royal highness the duke of sussex, the duke of argyle, the marquisses of anglesea and tavistock; the earls of thanet, jersey, harrington, besborough, mexborough, rosslyn, and yarmouth; lords george cavendish and robert spencer; viscounts sidmouth, granville, and duncannon; lords rivers, erskine, and lynedoch; the lord mayor; right hon. g. canning and w. w. pole, &c., &c. [footnote: in the train of all this phalanx of dukes, marquisses, earls, viscounts, barons, honorables, and right honorables, princes of the blood royal, and first officers of the state, it was not a little interesting to see, walking humbly, side by side, the only two men whose friendship had not waited for the call of vanity to display itself--dr. bain and mr. rogers.] where were they all, these royal and noble persons, who now crowded to "partake the gale" of sheridan's glory--where were they all while any life remained in him? where were they all, but a few weeks before, when their interposition might have saved his heart from breaking,--or when the zeal, now wasted on the grave, might have soothed and comforted the death-bed? this is a subject on which it is difficult to speak with patience. if the man was unworthy of the commonest offices of humanity while he lived, why all this parade of regret and homage over his tomb? there appeared some verses at the time, which, however intemperate in their satire and careless in their style, came, evidently, warm from the heart of the writer, and contained sentiments to which, even in his cooler moments, he needs not hesitate to subscribe:-- "oh it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow, and friendships so false in the great and high-born;-- to think what a long line of titles may follow the relics of him who died, friendless and lorn! "how proud they can press to the funeral array of him whom they shunn'd, in his sickness and sorrow-- how bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, whose pall shall be held up by nobles to-morrow!" the anonymous writer thus characterizes the talents of sheridan:-- "was this, then, the fate of that high-gifted man, the pride of the palace, the bower, and the hall-- the orator, dramatist, minstrel,--who ran through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all. "whose mind was an essence, compounded, with art, from the finest and best of all other men's powers;-- who rul'd, like a wizard, the world of the heart, and could call up its sunshine, or draw down its showers;-- "whose humor, as gay as the fire-fly's light, play'd round every subject, and shone, as it play'd;-- whose wit, in the combat as gentle as bright, ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade;-- "whose eloquence brightened whatever it tried, whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave, was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide, as ever bore freedom aloft on its wave!" * * * * * though a perusal of the foregoing pages has, i trust, sufficiently furnished the reader with materials out of which to form his own estimate of the character of sheridan, a few general remarks may, at parting, be allowed me--rather with a view to convey the impressions left upon myself, than with any presumptuous hope of influencing the deductions of others. in considering the intellectual powers of this extraordinary man, the circumstance that first strikes us is the very scanty foundation of instruction, upon which he contrived to raise himself to such eminence both as a writer and a politician. it is true, in the line of authorship he pursued, erudition was not so much wanting; and his wit, like the laurel of caesar, was leafy enough to hide any bareness in this respect. in politics, too, he had the advantage of entering upon his career, at a time when habits of business and a knowledge of details were less looked for in public men than they are at present, and when the house of commons was, for various reasons, a more open play-ground for eloquence and wit. the great increase of public business, since then, has necessarily made a considerable change in this respect. not only has the time of the legislature become too precious to be wasted upon the mere gymnastics of rhetoric, but even those graces, with which true oratory surrounds her statements, are but impatiently borne, where the statement itself is the primary and pressing object of the hearer. [footnote: the new light that as been thrown on political science may also, perhaps, be assigned as a reason for this evident revolution in parliamentary taste. "truth." says lord bacon, "is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show the masques, and mummeries, and triumphs of the present world half so stately and daintily as candle-lights;"--and there can be little doubt that the clearer and important truths are made, the less controversy they will excite among fair and rational men, and the less passion and fancy accordingly can eloquence infuse into the discussion of them. mathematics have produced no quarrels among mankind--it is by the mysterious and the vague, that temper as well as imagination is most roused. in proof of this while the acknowledged clearness almost to truism, which the leading principles of political science have attained, has tended to simplify and tame down the activities of eloquence on that subject. there is still another arena left, in the science of the law, where the same illumination of truth has not yet penetrated, and where oratory will still continue to work her perplexing spells, till common sense and the plain principles of utility shall find their way there also to weaken them.] burke, we know, was, even for his own time, too much addicted to what falconers would call _raking_, or flying wide of his game; but there was hardly, perhaps, one among his great contemporaries, who, if beginning his career at present, would not find it, in some degree, necessary to conform his style to the taste for business and matter-of-fact that is prevalent. mr. pitt would be compelled to curtail the march of his sentences--mr. fox would learn to repeat himself less lavishly--nor would mr. sheridan venture to enliven a question of evidence by a long and pathetic appeal to filial piety. in addition to this change in the character and taste of the house of commons, which, while it has lowered the value of some of the qualifications possessed by sheridan, has created a demand for others of a more useful but less splendid kind, which his education and habits of life would have rendered less easily attainable by him, we must take also into account the prodigious difference produced by the general movement, at present, of the whole civilized world towards knowledge;--a movement, which no public man, however great his natural talents, could now lag behind with impunity, and which requires nothing less than the versatile and _encyclopaedic_ powers of a brougham to keep pace with it. another striking characteristic of sheridan, as an orator and a writer, was the great degree of labor and preparation which his productions in both lines cost him. of this the reader has seen some curious proofs in the preceding pages. though the papers left behind by him have added nothing to the stock of his _chef-d'oeuvres_, they have given us an insight into his manner of producing his great works, which is, perhaps, the next most interesting thing to the works themselves. though no new star has been discovered, the history of the formation of those we already possess, and of the gradual process by which they were brought "firm to retain their gathered beams," has, as in the instance of the school for scandal, been most interestingly unfolded to us. the same marks of labor are discoverable throughout the whole of his parliamentary career. he never made a speech of any moment, of which the sketch, more or less detailed, has not been found among his papers--with the showier passages generally written two or three times over, (often without any material change in their form,) upon small detached pieces of paper, or on cards. to such minutiae of effect did he attend, that i have found, in more than one instance, a memorandum made of the precise place in which the words "good god, mr. speaker," were to be introduced. these preparatory sketches are continued down to his latest displays; and it is observable that when from the increased derangement of his affairs, he had no longer leisure or collectedness enough to prepare, he ceased to speak. the only time he could have found for this pre-arrangement of his thoughts, (of which few, from the apparent idleness of his life, suspected him,) must have been during the many hours of the day that he remained in bed,--when, frequently, while the world gave him credit for being asleep, he was employed in laying the frame-work of his wit and eloquence for the evening. that this habit of premeditation was not altogether owing to a want of quickness, appears from the power and liveliness of his replies in parliament, and the vivacity of some of his retorts in conversation. [footnote: his best _bon mots_ are in the memory of every one. among those less known, perhaps, is his answer to general t----, relative to some difference of opinion between them on the war in spain:--"well, t----, are you still on your high horse?"--"if i was on a horse before, i am upon an elephant now." "no, t----, you were upon an _ass_ before, now you are upon a _mule_." some mention having been made in his presence of a tax upon milestones. sheridan said, "such a tax would be unconstitutional,--as they were a race that could not meet to remonstrate." as an instance of his humor, i have been told that, in some country-house where he was on a visit, an elderly maiden lady having set her heart on being his companion in a walk, he excused himself at first on account of the badness of the weather. soon afterwards, however, the lady intercepted him in an attempt to escape without her:--"well," she said, "it has cleared up, i see." "why, yes," he answered, "it has cleared up enough for _one_, but not for _two_."] the labor, indeed, which he found necessary for his public displays, was, in a great degree, the combined effect of his ignorance and his taste;--the one rendering him fearful of committing himself on the _matter_ of his task, and the other making him fastidious and hesitating as to the _manner_ of it. i cannot help thinking, however, that there must have been, also, a degree of natural slowness in the first movements of his mind upon any topic; and, that, like those animals which remain gazing upon their prey before they seize it, he found it necessary to look intently at his subject for some time, before he was able to make the last, quick spring that mastered it. among the proofs of this dependence of his fancy upon time and thought for its development, may be mentioned his familiar letters, as far as their fewness enables us to judge. had his wit been a "fruit, that would fall without shaking," we should, in these communications at least, find some casual windfalls of it. but, from the want of sufficient time to search and cull, he seems to have given up, in despair, all thoughts of being lively in his letters; and accordingly, as the reader must have observed in the specimens that have been given, his compositions in this way are not only unenlivened by any excursions beyond the bounds of mere matter of fact, but, from the habit or necessity of taking a certain portion of time for correction, are singularly confused, disjointed, and inelegant in their style. it is certain that even his _bon-mots_ in society were not always to be set down to the credit of the occasion; but that frequently, like skilful priests, he prepared the miracle of the moment before-hand. nothing, indeed, could be more remarkable than the patience and tact, with which he would wait through a whole evening for the exact moment, when the shaft which he had ready feathered, might be let fly with effect. there was no effort, either obvious or disguised, to lead to the subject--no "question detached, (as he himself expresses it,) to draw you into the ambuscade of his ready-made joke"--and, when the lucky moment did arrive, the natural and accidental manner in which he would let this treasured sentence fall from his lips, considerably added to the astonishment and the charm. so bright a thing, produced so easily, seemed like the delivery of wieland's [footnote: see sotheby's admirable translation of oberon, canto .] amanda in a dream;--and his own apparent unconsciousness of the value of what he said might have deceived dull people into the idea that there was really nothing in it. the consequence of this practice of waiting for the moment of effect was, (as all, who have been much in his society, must have observed,) that he would remain inert in conversation, and even taciturn, for hours, and then suddenly come out with some brilliant sally, which threw a light over the whole evening, and was carried away in the memories of all present. nor must it be supposed that in the intervals, either before or after these flashes, he ceased to be agreeable; on the contrary, he had a grace and good nature in his manner, which gave a charm to even his most ordinary sayings,--and there was, besides, that ever-speaking lustre in his eye, which made it impossible, even when he was silent, to forget who he was. a curious instance of the care with which he treasured up the felicities of his wit, appears in the use he made of one of those epigrammatic passages, which the reader may remember among the memorandums for his comedy of affectation, and which, in its first form, ran thus:--"he certainly has a great deal of fancy, and a very good memory; but, with a perverse ingenuity, he employs these qualities as no other person does--for he employs his fancy in his narratives, and keeps his recollection for his wit:--when he makes his jokes, you applaud the accuracy of his memory, and 'tis only when he states his facts that you admire the flights of his imagination." after many efforts to express this thought more concisely, and to reduce the language of it to that condensed and elastic state, in which alone it gives force to the projectiles of wit, he kept the passage by him patiently some years,--till at length he found an opportunity of turning it to account, in a reply, i believe, to mr. dundas, in the house of commons, when, with the most extemporaneous air, he brought it forth, in the following compact and pointed form:--"the right honorable gentleman is indebted to his memory for his jests, and to his imagination for his facts." his political character stands out so fully in these pages, that it is needless, by any comments, to attempt to raise it into stronger relief. if to watch over the rights of the subject, and guard them against the encroachments of power, be, even in safe and ordinary times, a task full of usefulness and honor, how much more glorious to have stood sentinel over the same sacred trust, through a period so trying as that with which sheridan had to struggle--when liberty itself had become suspected and unpopular--when authority had succeeded in identifying patriotism with treason, and when the few remaining and deserted friends of freedom were reduced to take their stand on a narrowing isthmus, between anarchy on one side, and the angry incursions of power on the other. how manfully he maintained his ground in a position so critical, the annals of england and of the champions of her constitution will long testify. the truly national spirit, too, with which, when that struggle was past, and the dangers to liberty from without seemed greater than any from within, he forgot all past differences, in the one common cause of englishmen, and, while others "gave but the _left_ hand to the country," [footnote: his own words] proffered her _both_ of his, stamped a seal of sincerity on his public conduct, which, in the eyes of all england, authenticated it as genuine patriotism. to his own party, it is true, his conduct presented a very different phasis; and if implicit partisanship were the sole merit of a public man, his movements, at this and other junctures, were far too independent and unharnessed to lay claim to it. but, however useful may be the bond of party, there are occasions that supersede it; and, in all such deviations from the fidelity which it enjoins, the two questions to be asked are--were they, as regarded the public, right? were they, as regarded the individual himself, unpurchased? to the former question, in the instance of sheridan, the whole country responded in the affirmative; and to the latter, his account with the treasury, from first to last, is a sufficient answer. even, however, on the score of fidelity to party, when we recollect that he more than once submitted to some of the worst martyrdoms which it imposes--that of sharing in the responsibility of opinions from which he dissented, and suffering by the ill consequences of measures against which he had protested;--when we call to mind, too, that during the administration of mr. addington, though agreeing wholly with the ministry and differing with the whigs, he even then refused to profit by a position so favorable to his interests, and submitted, like certain religionists, from a point of honor, to suffer for a faith in which he did not believe--it seems impossible not to concede that even to the obligations of party he was as faithful as could be expected from a spirit that so far outgrew its limits, and, in paying the tax of fidelity while he asserted the freedom of dissent, showed that he could sacrifice every thing to it, except his opinion. through all these occasional variations, too, he remained a genuine whig to the last; and, as i have heard one of his own party happily express it, was "like pure gold, that changes color in the fire, but comes out unaltered." the transaction in , relative to the household, was, as i have already said, the least defensible part of his public life. but it should be recollected hove broken he was, both in mind and body, at that period;--his resources from the theatre at an end,--the shelter of parliament about to be taken from over his head also,--and old age and sickness coming on, as every hope and comfort vanished. in that wreck of all around him, the friendship of carlton-house was the last asylum left to his pride and his hope; and that even character itself should, in a too zealous moment, have been one of the sacrifices offered up at the shrine that protected him, is a subject more of deep regret than of wonder. the poet cowley, in speaking of the unproductiveness of those pursuits connected with wit and fancy, says beautifully-- "where such fairies once have danc'd, no grass will ever grow;" but, unfortunately, thorns _will_ grow there;--and he who walks unsteadily among such thorns as now beset the once enchanted path of sheridan, ought not, after all, to be very severely criticised. his social qualities were, unluckily for himself but too attractive. in addition to his powers of conversation, there was a well-bred good-nature in his manner, as well as a deference to the remarks and opinions of others, the want of which very often, in distinguished wits, offends the self-love of their hearers, and makes even the dues of admiration that they levy a sort of "_droit de seigneur_," paid with unwillingness and distaste. no one was so ready and cheerful in promoting the amusements of a country-house; and on a rural excursion he was always the soul of the party. his talent at dressing a little dish was often put in requisition on such occasions, and an irish stew was that on which he particularly plumed himself. some friends of his recall with delight a day of this kind which they passed with him, when he made the whole party act over the battle of the pyramids on marsden moor, and ordered "captain" creevey and others upon various services, against the cows and donkeys entrenched in the ditches. being of so playful a disposition himself, it was not wonderful that he should take such pleasure in the society of children. i have been told, as doubly characteristic of him, that he has often, at mr. monckton's, kept a chaise and four waiting half the day for him at the door, while he romped with the children. in what are called _ver de sociétié_, or drawing-room verses, he took great delight; and there remain among his papers several sketches of these trifles. i once heard him repeat in a ballroom, some verses which he had lately written on waltzing, and of which i remember the following: "with tranquil step, and timid, downcast glance, behold the well-pair'd couple now advance. in such sweet posture our first parents mov'd, while, hand in hand, through eden's bowers they rov'd; ere yet the devil, with promise foul and false, turn'd their poor heads and taught them how to _walse_. one hand grasps hers, the other holds her hip-- * * * * * for so the law's laid down by baron trip." [footnote: this gentleman, whose name suits so aptly as legal authority on the subject of waltzing, was at the time these verses were written, well known in the dancing circles.] he had a sort of hereditary fancy for difficult trifling in poetry;--particularly for that sort, which consists in rhyming to the same word through a long string of couplets, till every rhyme that the language supplies for it is exhausted, [footnote: some verses by general fitzpatrick on lord holland's father are the best specimen that i know of this sort of _scherzo_.] the following are specimens from a poem of this kind, which he wrote on the loss of a lady's trunk:-- "my trunk! "(_to anne_.) "have you heard, my deer anne, how my spirits are sunk? have you heard of the cause? oh, the loss of my _trunk_! from exertion or firmness i've never yet slunk; but my fortitude's gone with the loss of my _trunk_! stout lucy, my maid, is a damsel of spunk; yet she weeps night and day for the loss of my _trunk_! i'd better turn nun, and coquet with a monk; for with whom can i flirt without aid from my _trunk_! * * * * * accurs'd be the thief, the old rascally hunks; who rifles the fair, and lays hands on their _trunks_! he, who robs the king's stores of the least bit of junk, is hang'd--while he's safe, who has plunder'd my _trunk_! * * * * * there's a phrase amongst lawyers, when _nune's_ put for _tune_; but, tune and nune both, must i grieve for my _trunk_! huge leaves of that great commentator, old brunck, perhaps was the paper that lin'd my poor _trunk_! but my rhymes are all out;--for i dare not use st--k; [ ] 'twould shock sheridan more than the loss of my _trunk_!" [footnote : he had a particular horror of this word.] from another of these trifles, (which, no doubt, produced much gaiety at the breakfast-table,) the following extracts will be sufficient:-- "muse, assist me to complain, while i grieve for lady _jane_. i ne'er was in so sad a vein, deserted now by lady _jane_. * * * * * lord petre's house was built by payne-- no mortal architect made _jane_. if hearts had windows, through the pane of mine you'd see sweet lady _jane_. * * * * * at breakfast i could scarce refrain from tears at missing lovely _jane_, nine rolls i eat, in hopes to gain the roll that might have fall'n to _jane_," &c. another written on a mr. _bigg_, contains some ludicrous couplets:-- "i own he's not fam'd for a reel or a jig, tom sheridan there surpasses tom _bigg_.-- for lam'd in one thigh, he is obliged to go zig- zag, like a crab--for no dancer is _bigg_. those who think him a coxcomb, or call him a prig, how little they know of the mind of my _bigg_! tho' he ne'er can be mine, hope will catch a twig-- two deaths--and i yet may become mrs. _bigg_. oh give me, with him, but a cottage and pig, and content i would live on beans, bacon, and _bigg_." a few more of these light productions remain among his papers, but their wit is gone with those for whom they were written;--the wings of time "eripuere _jocos_." of a very different description are the following striking and spirited fragments, (which ought to have been mentioned in a former part of this work,) written by him, apparently, about the year , and addressed to the naval heroes of that period, to console them for the neglect they experienced from the government, while ribands and titles were lavished on the whig seceders:-- "never mind them, brave black dick, though they've played thee such a trick-- damn their ribands and their garters, get you to your post and quarters. look upon the azure sea, there's a sailor's taffety! mark the zodiac's radiant bow, that's a collar fit for howe!-- and, then p--tl--d's brighter far, the pole shall furnish you a star! [ ] damn their ribands and their garters, get you to your post and quarters, think, on what things are ribands showered-- the two sir georges--y---- and h---! look to what rubbish stars will stick, to dicky h----n and johnny d----k! would it be for your country's good, that you might pass for alec. h----d, or, perhaps,--and worse by half-- to be mistaken for sir r----h! would you, like c----, pine with spleen, because your bit of silk was green? would you, like c----, change your side, to have your silk new dipt and dyed?-- like him exclaim, 'my riband's hue was green--and now, by heav'ns! 'tis blue,' and, like him--stain your honor too? damn their ribands and their garters, get you to your post and quarters. on the foes of britain close, while b----k garters his dutch hose, and cons, with spectacles on nose, (while to battle _you_ advance,) his '_honi soit qui mal y pense_.'" * * * * * [footnote : this reminds me of a happy application which he made, upon a subsequent occasion, of two lines of dryden:-- "when men like erskine go astray, the stars are more in fault than they."] it has been seen, by a letter of his sister already given, that, when young, he was generally accounted handsome; but, in later years, his eyes were the only testimonials of beauty that remained to him. it was, indeed, in the upper part of his face that the spirit of the man chiefly reigned;--the dominion of the world and the senses being rather strongly marked out in the lower. in his person, he was above the middle size, and his general make was, as i have already said, robust and well proportioned. it is remarkable that his arms, though of powerful strength, were thin, and appeared by no means muscular. his hands were small and delicate; and the following couplet, written on a cast from one of them, very livelily enumerates both its physical and moral qualities:-- "good at a fight, but better at a play, godlike in giving, but--the devil to pay!" among his habits, it may not be uninteresting to know that his hours of composition, as long as he continued to be an author, were at night, and that he required a profusion of lights around him while he wrote. wine, too, was one of his favorite helps to inspiration;--"if the thought, (he would say,) is slow to come, a glass of good wine encourages it, and, when it _does_ come, a glass of good wine rewards it." having taken a cursory view of his literary, political, and social qualities, it remains for me to say a few words upon that most important point of all, his moral character. there are few persons, as we have seen, to whose kind and affectionate conduct, in some of the most interesting relations of domestic life, so many strong and honorable testimonies remain. the pains he took to win back the estranged feelings of his father, and the filial tenderness with which he repaid long years of parental caprice, show a heart that had, at least, set out by the right road, however, in after years, it may have missed the way. the enthusiastic love which his sister bore him, and retained unblighted by distance or neglect, is another proof of the influence of his amiable feelings, at that period of life when he was as yet unspoiled by the world. we have seen the romantic fondness which he preserved towards the first mrs. sheridan, even while doing his utmost, and in vain, to extinguish the same feeling in her. with the second wife, a course, nearly similar, was run;--the same "scatterings and eclipses" of affection, from the irregularities and vanities, in which he continued to indulge, but the same hold kept of each other's hearts to the last. her early letters to him breathe a passion little short of idolatry, and her devoted attentions beside his death-bed showed that the essential part of the feeling still remained. to claim an exemption for frailties and irregularities on the score of genius, while there are such names as milton and newton on record, were to be blind to the example which these and other great men have left, of the grandest intellectual powers combined with the most virtuous lives. but, for the bias given early to the mind by education and circumstances, even the least charitable may be inclined to make large allowances. we have seen how idly the young days of sheridan were wasted--how soon he was left, (in the words of the prophet,) "to dwell carelessly ," and with what an undisciplined temperament he was thrown upon the world, to meet at every step that never-failing spring of temptation, which, like the fatal fountain in the garden of armida, sparkles up for ever in the pathway of such a man:-- "un fonte sorge in lei, che vaghe e monde ha l'acque si, che i riguardanti asseta, ma dentro ai freddi suoi cristalli asconde di tosco estran malvagita secreta." even marriage, which is among the sedatives of other men's lives, but formed a part of the romance of his. the very attractions of his wife increased his danger, by doubling, as it were the power of the world over him, and leading him astray by her light as well as by his own. had his talents, even then, been subjected to the _manège_ of a profession, there was still a chance that business, and the round of regularity which it requires, might have infused some spirit of order into his life. but the stage--his glory and his ruin--opened upon him; and the property of which it made him master was exactly of that treacherous kind which not only deceives a man himself, but enables him to deceive others, and thus combined all that a person of his carelessness and ambition had most to dread. an uncertain income, which, by eluding calculation, gives an excuse for improvidence, [footnote: how feelingly aware he was of this great source of all his misfortunes appears from a passage in the able speech which he delivered before the chancellor, as counsel in his own case, in the year or :-- "it is a great disadvantage, relatively speaking, to any man, and especially to a very careless, and a very sanguine man, to have possessed an uncertain and fluctuating income. that disadvantage is greatly increased, if the person so circumstanced has conceived himself to be in some degree entitled to presume that, by the exertion of his own talents, he may at pleasure increase that income--thereby becoming induced to make promises to himself which he may afterwards fail to fulfil. "occasional excess and frequent unpunctuality will be the natural consequences of such a situation. but, my lord, to exceed an ascertained and limited income, i hold to be a very different matter. in that situation i have placed myself, (not since the present unexpected contention arose, for since then i would have adopted no arrangements,) but months since, by my deed of trust to mr. adam, and in that situation i shall remain until every debt on earth, in which the theatre or i am concerned, shall be fully and fairly discharged. till then i will live on what remains to me--preserving that spirit of undaunted independence, which, both as a public and a private man, i trust, i have hitherto maintained."] and, still more fatal, a facility of raising money, by which the lesson, that the pressure of distress brings with it, is evaded till it comes too late to be of use--such was the dangerous power put into his hands, in his six-and-twentieth year, and amidst the intoxication of as deep and quick draughts of fame as ever young author quaffed. scarcely had the zest of this excitement begun to wear off, when he was suddenly transported into another sphere, where successes still more flattering to his vanity awaited him. without any increase of means, he became the companion and friend of the first nobles and princes, and paid the usual tax of such unequal friendships, by, in the end, losing them and ruining himself. the vicissitudes of a political life, and those deceitful vistas into office that were for ever opening on his party, made his hopes as fluctuating and uncertain as his means, and encouraged the same delusive calculations on both. he seemed, at every new turn of affairs, to be on the point of redeeming himself; and the confidence of others in his resources was no less fatal to him than his own, as it but increased the facilities of ruin that surrounded him. such a career as this--so shaped towards wrong, so inevitably devious--it is impossible to regard otherwise than with the most charitable allowances. it was one long paroxysm of excitement--no pause for thought--no inducements to prudence--the attractions all drawing the wrong way, and a voice, like that which bossuet describes, crying inexorably from behind him "on, on!" [footnote: "la loi est prononcee; il faut avancer toujours. je voudrois retourner sur mes pas; 'marche, marche!' un poids invincible nous entraine; il faut sans cesse avancer vers le precipice. on se console pourtant, parce que de tems en tems on rencontre des objets qui nous divertissent, des eaux courantes, des fleurs qui passent. on voudroit arreter; 'marche, marche!'"--_sermon sur la resurrection_.] instead of wondering at the wreck that followed all this, our only surprise should be, that so much remained uninjured through the trial,--that his natural good feelings should have struggled to the last with his habits, and his sense of all that was right in conduct so long survived his ability to practise it. numerous, however, as were the causes that concurred to disorganize his moral character, in his pecuniary embarrassment lay the source of those blemishes, that discredited him most in the eyes of the world. he might have indulged his vanity and his passions, like others, with but little loss of reputation, if the consequence of these indulgences had not been obtruded upon observation in the forbidding form of debts and distresses. so much did his friend richardson, who thoroughly knew him, consider his whole character to have been influenced by the straitened circumstances in which he was placed, that he used often to say, "if an enchanter could, by the touch of his wand, endow sheridan suddenly with fortune, he would instantly transform him into a most honorable and moral man." as some corroboration of this opinion, i must say that, in the course of the inquiries which my task of biographer imposed upon me, i have found all who were ever engaged in pecuniary dealings with him, not excepting those who suffered most severely by his irregularities, (among which class i may cite the respected name of mr. hammersley,) unanimous in expressing their conviction that he always _meant_ fairly and honorably; and that to the inevitable pressure of circumstances alone, any failure that occurred in his engagements was to be imputed. there cannot, indeed, be a stronger exemplification of the truth, that a want of regularity [footnote: his improvidence in every thing connected with money was most remarkable. he would frequently be obliged to stop on his journies, for want of the means of getting on, and to remain living expensively at an inn, till a remittance could reach him. his letters to the treasurer of the theatre on these occasions were generally headed with the words "money-bound." a friend of his told me, that one morning, while waiting for him in his study, he cast his eyes over the heap of unopened letters that lay upon the table, and, seeing one or two with coronets on the seals, said to mr. westley, the treasurer, who was present, "i see we are all treated alike." mr. westley then informed him that he had once found, on looking over this table, a letter which he had himself sent, a few weeks before, to mr. sheridan, enclosing a ten-pound note, to release him from some inn, but which sheridan, having raised the supplies in some other way, had never thought of opening. the prudent treasurer took away the letter, and reserved the enclosure for some future exigence. among instances of his inattention to letters, the following is mentioned. going one day to the banking-house, where he was accustomed to receive his salary, as receiver of cornwall, and where they sometimes accommodated him with small sums before the regular time of payment, he asked, with all due humility, whether they could oblige him with the loan of twenty pounds. "certainly, sir," said the clerk,--"would you like any more--fifty, or a hundred?" sheridan, all smiles and gratitude, answered that a hundred pounds would be of the greatest convenience to him. "perhaps you would like to take two hundred, or three?" said the clerk. at every increase of the sum, the surprise of the borrower increased. "have not you then received our letter?" said the clerk;--on which it turned out that, in consequence of the falling in of some fine, a sum of twelve hundred pounds had been lately placed to the credit of the receiver-general, and that, from not having opened the letter written to apprise him, he had been left in ignorance of his good luck.] becomes, itself, a vice, from the manifold evils to which it leads, than the whole history of mr. sheridan's pecuniary transactions. so far from never paying his debts, as is often asserted of him, he was, in fact, always paying;--but in such a careless and indiscriminate manner, and with so little justice to himself or others, as often to leave the respectable creditor to suffer for his patience, while the fraudulent dun was paid two or three times over. never examining accounts nor referring to receipts, he seemed as if, (in imitation of his own charles, preferring generosity to justice,) he wished to make paying as like as possible to giving. interest, too, with its usual, silent accumulation, swelled every debt; and i have found several instances among his accounts where the interest upon a small sum had been suffered to increase till it outgrew the principal;--"_minima pars ipsa puella sui_." notwithstanding all this, however, his debts were by no means so considerable as has been supposed. in the year , he empowered sir r. berkely, mr. peter moore, and mr. frederick homan, by power of attorney, to examine into his pecuniary affairs and take measures for the discharge of all claims upon him. these gentlemen, on examination, found that his _bona fide_ debts were about ten thousand pounds, while his apparent debts amounted to five or six times as much. whether from conscientiousness or from pride, however, he would not suffer any of the claims to be contested, but said that the demands were all fair, and must be paid just as they were stated;--though it was well known that many of them had been satisfied more than once. these gentlemen, accordingly, declined to proceed any further with their commission. on the same false feeling he acted in - , when the balance due on the sale of his theatrical property was paid him, in a certain number of shares. when applied to by any creditor, he would give him one of these shares, and allowing his claim entirely on his own showing, leave him to pay himself out of it, and refund the balance. thus irregular at all times, even when most wishing to be right, he deprived honesty itself of its merit and advantages; and, where he happened to be just, left it doubtful, (as locke says of those religious people, who believe right by chance, without examination,) "whether even the luckiness of the accident excused the irregularity of the proceeding." [footnote: chapter on reason] the consequence, however, of this continual paying was that the number of his creditors gradually diminished, and that ultimately the amount of his debts was, taking all circumstances into account, by no means considerable. two years after his death it appeared by a list made up by his solicitor from claims sent in to him, in consequence of an advertisement in the newspapers, that the _bonâ fide_ debts amounted to about five thousand five hundred pounds. if, therefore, we consider his pecuniary irregularities in reference to the injury that they inflicted upon others, the quantum of evil for which he is responsible becomes, after all, not so great. there are many persons in the enjoyment of fair characters in the world, who would be happy to have no deeper encroachment upon the property of others to answer for; and who may well wonder by what unlucky management sheridan could contrive to found so extensive a reputation for bad pay upon so small an amount of debt. let it never, too, be forgotten, in estimating this part of his character, that had he been less consistent and disinterested in his public conduct, he might have commanded the means of being independent and respectable in private. he might have died a rich apostate, instead of closing a life of patriotism in beggary. he might, (to use a fine expression of his own,) have 'hid his head in a coronet,' instead of earning for it but the barren wreath of public gratitude. while, therefore, we admire the great sacrifice that he made, let us be tolerant to the errors and imprudences which it entailed upon him; and, recollecting how vain it is to look for any thing unalloyed in this world, rest satisfied with the martyr, without requiring, also, the saint. the end. none proofreaders the poetical works of joseph addison; gay's fables; and somerville's chase. * * * * * with memoirs and critical dissertations, by the rev. george gilfillan. * * * * * m.dccc.lix. contents. addison's poetical works. life of joseph addison, poems on several occasions:-- to mr dryden, a poem to his majesty, presented to the lord keeper, a translation of all virgil's fourth georgic, except the story of aristæus, a song for st cecilia's day, an ode for st cecilia's day, an account of the greatest english poets, a letter from italy, milton's style imitated, in a translation of a story out of the third Æneid, the campaign, cowley's epitaph on himself, prologue to the 'tender husband,' epilogue to the 'british enchanters,' prologue to smith's 'phædra and hippolitus,' horace ode iii., book iii., the vestal, ovid's metamorphoses:-- book ii. the story of phaeton, phaeton's sisters transformed into trees, the transformation of cyenus into a swan, the story of calisto, the story of coronis, and birth of Æsculapius, ocyrrhoe transformed to a mare, the transformation of battus to a touchstone, the story of aglauros, transformed into a statue, europa's rape, book iii. the story of cadmus, the transformation of actæon into a stag, the birth of bacchus, the transformation of tiresias, the transformation of echo, the story of narcissus, the story of pentheus, the mariners transformed to dolphins, the death of pentheus book iv. the story of salmacis and hermaphroditus, to her royal highness the princess of wales, to sir godfrey kneller, on his picture of the king, the play-house, on the lady manchester, an ode, an hymn, an ode, an hymn, paraphrase on psalm xxiii. the life of john gay gay's fables:-- introduction.--part i. the shepherd and philosopher fable i.--the lion, the tiger, and the traveller fable ii.--the spaniel and the cameleon fable iii.--the mother, the nurse, and the fairy fable iv.--the eagle, and the assembly of animals fable v.--the wild boar and the ram fable vi.--the miser and plutus fable vii.--the lion, the fox, and the geese fable viii.--the lady and the wasp fable ix.--the bull and the mastiff fable x.--the elephant and the bookseller fable xi.--the peacock, the turkey, and the goose fable xii.--cupid, hymen, and plutus fable xiii.--the tame stag fable xiv.--the monkey who had seen the world fable xv.--the philosopher and the pheasants fable xvi.--the pin and the needle fable xvii.--the shepherd's dog and the wolf fable xviii.--the painter who pleased nobody and everybody fable xix.--the lion and the cub fable xx.--the old hen and the cock fable xxi.--the rat-catcher and cats fable xxii.--the goat without a beard fable xxiii.--the old woman and her cats fable xxiv.--the butterfly and the snail fable xxv.--the scold and the parrot fable xxvi.--the cur and the mastiff fable xxvii.--the sick man and the angel fable xxviii.--the persian, the sun, and the cloud fable xxix.--the fox at the point of death fable xxx.--the setting-dog and the partridge fable xxxi.--the universal apparition fable xxxii.--the two owls and the sparrow fable xxxiii.--the courtier and proteus fable xxxiv.--the mastiffs fable xxxv.--the barley-mow and the dunghill fable xxxvi.--pythagoras and the countryman fable xxxvii.--the farmer's wife and the raven fable xxxviii.--the turkey and the ant fable xxxix.--the father and jupiter fable xl.--the two monkeys fable xli.--the owl and the farmer fable xlii.-the jugglers fable xliii.-the council of horses fable xliv.--the hound and the huntsman fable xlv.--the poet and the rose fable xlvi.--the cur, the horse, and the shepherd's dog fable xlvii.--the court of death fable xlviii.--the gardener and the hog fable xlix.--the man and the flea fable l.--the hare and many friends part ii. fable i.--the dog and the fox fable ii.--the vulture, the sparrow, and other birds fable iii.--the baboon and the poultry fable iv.--the ant in office fable v.--the bear in a boat fable vi.--the squire and his cur fable vii.--the countryman and jupiter fable viii.--the man, the cat, the dog, and the fly fable ix.--the jackall, leopard, and other beasts fable x.--the degenerate bees fable xi.--the pack-horse and the carrier fable xii.--pan and fortune fable xiii.-plutus, cupid, and time fable xiv.--the owl, the swan, the cock, the spider, the ass, and the farmer fable xv.--the cook-maid, the turnspit, and the ox fable xvi.--the ravens, the sexton, and the earth-worm songs:-- sweet william's farewell to black-eyed susan a ballad, from the what-d'ye-call-it somerville's chase. the life of william somerville somerville's chase:-- book i. book ii. book iii. book iv. life of joseph addison. joseph addison, the _spectator_, the true founder of our periodical literature, the finest, if not the greatest writer in the english language, was born at milston, wiltshire, on the st of may . a fanciful mind might trace a correspondence between the particular months when celebrated men have been born and the peculiar complexion of their genius. milton, the austere and awful, was born in the silent and gloomy month of december. shakspeare, the most versatile of all writers, was born in april, that month of changeful skies, of sudden sunshine, and sudden showers. burns and byron, those stormy spirits, both appeared in the fierce january; and of the former, he himself says, "'twas then a blast o' januar-win' blew welcome in on robin." scott, the broad sunny being, visited us in august, and in the same month the warm genius of shelley came, as hunt used to tell him, "from the planet mercury" to our earth. coleridge and keats, with whose song a deep bar of sorrow was to mingle, like the music of falling leaves, or of winds wailing for the departure of summer, arrived in october,--that month, the beauty of which is the child of blasting, and its glory the flush of decay. and it seems somehow fitting that addison, the mild, the quietly-joyous, the sanguine and serene, should come, with the daisy and the sweet summer-tide, on the st of may, which buchanan thus hails-- "salve fugacis gloria saeculi, salve secunda digna dies nota, salve vetustae vitae imago, et specimen venientis aevi." "hail, glory of the fleeting year! hail, day, the fairest, happiest here! image of time for ever by, pledge of a bright eternity." dr lancelot addison, himself a man of no mean note, was the father of our poet. he was born in , at maltesmeaburn, in the parish of _corby ravensworth_, (what a name of ill-omen within ill-omen, or as dr johnson would say, "inspissated gloom"!) in the county of westmoreland. his father was a minister of the gospel; but in such humble circumstances, that lancelot was received from the grammar-school of appleby into queen's college, oxford, in the capacity of a "poor child." after passing his curriculum there, being chiefly distinguished for his violent high church and monarchical principles, for which he repeatedly smarted, he, at the restoration, was appointed chaplain to the garrison of dunkirk, and soon after he accepted a similar situation in tangier, which had been ceded by portugal to britain. in this latter post he felt rather lonely and miserable, and was driven, in self-defence, to betake himself to the study of the manners and the literature of the moors, jews, and other oriental nations. this led him afterwards to publish some works on barbary, on hebrew customs, and mohammedanism, which shew a profound acquaintance with these subjects, and which, not without reason, are supposed to have coloured the imagination of his son joseph, who is seldom more felicitous than when reproducing the gorgeous superstitions and phantasies of the east. for eight years, old addison lingered in loathed tangier; nor, when he returned to england on a visit, had he any purpose of permanently residing in his own country. but his appointment was hastily bestowed on another; and it was fortunate for him that a private friend stepped in and presented him with the living of milston, near ambrosebury, wilts, worth £ a-year. this, which miss aiken calls a "pittance," was probably equivalent to £ now. at all events, on the strength of it, he married jane, daughter of dr gulstone, and sister to the bishop of bristol, who, in due time, became the mother of our poet. lancelot was afterwards made prebendary of salisbury cathedral, and king's chaplain in ordinary; about the time ( ) when he took the degree of d.d. subsequently he became archdeacon of salisbury, and at last, in , obtained the deanery of lichfield. but for his suspected jacobitism, he would probably have received the mitre. he died in . joseph had two brothers and three sisters. his third sister, dorothy, survived the rest, and was twice married. swift met her once, and with some awe (for he, like all bullies, had a little of the coward about him), describes her as a kind of wit, and very like her brother. the _spectator_ seems to have been a wild and wayward boy. he is said to have once acted as ringleader in a "barring out," described by johnson as a savage license by which the boys, when the periodical vacation drew near, used to take possession of the school, of which they barred the doors, and bade the master defiance from the windows. on another occasion, having committed some petty offence at a country school, terrified at the master's apprehended displeasure, he made his escape into the fields and woods, where for some days he fed on fruits and slept in a hollow tree till discovered and brought back to his parents. this last may seem the act of a timid boy, and inconsistent with the former, and yet is somehow congenial to our ideal of the character of our poet. it required perhaps more daring to front the perils of the woods than the frown of the master, and augured, besides, a certain romance in his disposition which found afterwards a vent in literature. after receiving instruction, first at salisbury, and then at lichfield, (his connexion with which place forms a link, uniting him in a manner to the great lexicographer, who was born there,) he was removed to the charterhouse, and there profited so much in greek and latin, that at fifteen he was not only, says macaulay, "fit for the university, but carried thither a classical taste and a stock of learning which would have done honour to a master of arts." he had at the charter-house formed a friendship, destined to have important bearings on his after history, with richard steele, whose character may be summed up in a few sentences. who has not heard of sir richard steele? wordsworth says of one of his characters-- "she was known to every star, and every wind that blows." poor dick was known to every sponging-house, and to every bailiff that, blowing in pursuit, walked the london streets. a fine-hearted, warm-blooded character, without an atom of prudence, self-control, reticence, or forethought; quite as destitute of malice or envy; perpetually sinning and perpetually repenting; never positively irreligious, even when drunk; and often excessively pious when recovering sobriety,--steele reeled his way through life, and died with the reputation of being an orthodox christian and a (nearly) habitual drunkard; the most affectionate and most faithless of husbands; a brave soldier, and in many points an arrant fool; a violent politician, and the best natured of men; a writer extremely lively, for this, among other reasons, that he wrote generally on his legs, flying or meditating flight from his creditors; and who embodied in himself the titles of his three principal works--"the christian hero," "the tender husband," and the _tatler_;--being a "christian hero" in intention, one of those intentions with which a certain place is paved; a "tender husband," if not a true one, to his two ladies; and a _tatler_ to all persons, in all circumstances, and at all times. when addison first knew this original, he was probably uncontaminated, and must have been, as he continued to the end to be, an irascible but joyous and genial being; and they became intimate at once, although circumstances severed them from each other for a long period. in addison entered queen's college, oxford; but sometime after, (macaulay says "not many months," johnson "a year," and miss aiken "two years,") dr lancaster, of magdalene college, having accidentally seen some latin verses from his pen, exerted himself to procure their author admission to the benefits of a foundation, then the wealthiest in europe. our poet was first elected demy, then probationary fellow in , and in the year following, actual fellow. during the ten years he resided at oxford, he was a general favourite, remarkable for his diligence in study, for the purity and tenderness of his feelings, for his bashful and retiring manners, for the excellence of his latin compositions, and for his solitary walks, pursued in a path they still point out below the elms which skirt a meadow on the banks of the cherwell,--a river, we need scarcely say, which there weds the isis. it was in such lonely evening or saturday strolls that he probably acquired the habit of pensive reverie to which we owe many of the finest of his speculations in after days, such as that in _spectator_, no. , beginning, "i was yesterday, about sunset, walking in the open fields, when insensibly the night fell upon me," &c. prose english essays, however, were as yet strangers to his pen. his ambition was to be a poet, and while still under twenty-two, he produced and printed some complimentary verses to dryden, then declining in years, and fallen into comparative neglect. the old poet was pleased with the homage of the young aspirant, which was as graceful in expression as it was generous in purpose. for instance, alluding to dryden's projected translation of "ovid," he says, that "ovid," thus transformed, shall "reveal" "a nobler change than he himself can tell." this, however, although happy, starts a different view of the subject. it suggests the idea that most translations are metamorphoses to the worse, like that of a living person into a dead tree, or at least of a superior into an inferior being. in pope's "iliad," you have the metamorphosis of an eagle into a nightingale; in dryden's "virgil," you have a stately war-horse transformed into a hard-trotting hackney; in hoole's versions of the italian poets, you have nymphs nailed up in timber; while, on the other hand, in coleridge's "wallenstein," you have the "nobler change," spoken of by addison, of--shall we say?-a cold and stately holly-tree turned into a murmuring and oracular oak. that, after thus introducing himself to dryden, he met him occasionally seems certain, although the rumour circulated by spence that he taught the old man to sit late and drink hard seems ridiculous. dryden introduced him to congreve, and through congreve he made the valuable acquaintance of charles montague, then leader of the whigs in the house of commons, and chancellor of the exchequer. he afterwards published a translation of that part of the "fourth book of the georgics" referring to bees, on which dryden, who had procured a preface to his own complete translation of the same poem from addison, complimented him by saying--"after his bees, my later swarm is scarcely worth hiving." he published, too, a poem on "king william," and an "account of the principal english poets," in which he ventures on a character of spenser ere he had read his works. it thus is, as might have been expected, poor and non-appreciative, and speaks of spenser as a poet pretty nearly forgotten. some time after this, he collected a volume, entitled, "musæ anglicanæ," in which he inserted all his early latin verses. charles montague, himself a poet of a certain small rank, and a man of great general talents, became--along with somers--the patron of addison. he diverted him from the church, to which his own tastes seemed to destine him, suggesting that civil employment had become very corrupt through want of men of liberal education and good principles, and should be redeemed from this reproach, and declaring that, though he had been called an enemy of the church, he would never do it any other injury than keeping mr addison out of it. it is likely that the timid temperament of our poet concurred with these suggestions of montague in determining his decision. his failure as a parliamentary orator subsequently seems to prove that the pulpit was not his vocation. after all, his saturday papers in the _spectator_ are as fine as any sermons of that age, and he perhaps did more good serving as a volunteer than had he been a regular soldier in the army of the christian faith. somers and montague wished to employ their _protégé_ in public service abroad. there was, however, one drawback. addison had plenty of english, greek, and latin, but he had little french. this he must be sent abroad to acquire; and for the purpose of defraying the expenses of his travels, a pension of £ a-year was conferred upon him. paid thus, as few poets or writers of any kind are, in advance, and having his fellowship besides, addison, like a young nobleman, instead of a parson's son, set out upon his tour. this was in the summer of . he was twenty-seven years of age, exactly one year younger than byron, and three years younger than milton, when they visited the same regions. he went first to paris, and was received with great distinction by montague's kinsman, the earl of manchester, and his beautiful lady. he travelled with his eyes quietly open, especially to the humorous aspects of things. in a letter to montague he says that he had not seen a _blush_ from his first landing at calais, and gives a sarcastic description of the spurious devotion which the example of the old repentant _roué_, louis xiv., had rendered fashionable among the _literati_ of france: "there is no book comes out at present that has not something in it of an air of devotion. dacier has been forced to prove his plato a very good christian before he ventures upon his translation, and has so far complied with the taste of the age, that his whole book is overrun with texts of scripture, and the notion of pre-existence, supposed to be stolen from two verses of the prophets." the sincere believer is usually the first to detect and be disgusted with the sham one; and addison was always a sincere believer, but he had also that happy nature in which disgust is carried quickly and easily off through the safety-valve of a smile. from paris he went to blois, the capital of loir-and-cher, a small town about miles south-west of paris. here he had two advantages. he found the french language spoken in its perfection; and as he had not a single countryman with whom to exchange a word, he was driven on his own resources. he remained there a year, and spent his time well, studying hard, rising early, having the best french masters, mingling in society, although subject, as in previous and after parts of his life, to fits of absence. his life was as pure as it was simple, his most intimate friend at blois, the abbe philippeaux, saying: "he had no amour whilst here that i know of, and i think i should have known it if he had had any." during this time he sent home letters to his friends in england--to montague, colonel froude, congreve, and others[ ]--which contain sentences of exquisite humour. thus, describing the famous gallery at versailles, with the paintings of louis' victories, he says: "the history of the present king till the sixteenth year of his reign is painted on the roof by le brun, so that his majesty has actions enough by him to furnish another gallery much longer than the first. he is represented with all the terror and majesty that you can imagine in every part of the picture, and see his young face as perfectly drawn in the roof as his present one in the side. the painter has represented his most christian majesty under the figure of jupiter throwing thunderbolts all about the ceiling, and striking terror into the danube and rhine, that _lie astonished and blasted with lightning a little above the cornice_." this is addison all over; and quite as good is his picture of the general character of the french: "'tis not in the power of want or slavery to make them miserable. there is nothing to be met with in the country but mirth and poverty. every one sings, laughs, and starves. their conversation is generally agreeable, for if they have any wit or sense, they are sure to shew it. their women are perfect mistresses in the art of shewing themselves to the best advantage. they are always gay and sprightly, and set off the worst faces in europe with the best airs. every one knows how to give herself as charming a look and posture as sir godfrey kneller could draw her in." from blois he returned to paris, and was now better qualified, from his knowledge of the language, to mingle with its philosophers, savants, and poets. he had some interesting talk with malebranche and boileau, the former of whom "very much praised mr newton's mathematics; shook his head at the name of hobbes, and told me he thought him a _pauvre esprit_." here follows a genuine addisonianism: "his book is now reprinted with many additions, among which he shewed me a very pretty hypothesis of colours, which is different from that of cartesius or newton, _though they may all three be true_." boileau, now sixty-four, deaf as a post, and full of the "sweltered venom" of ill-natured criticism, nevertheless received addison kindly; and when presented by him with his "musæ anglicanæ," is said from that time to have conceived an opinion of the english genius for poetry. addison says that boileau "hated an ill poet." unfortunately, however, for his judgment, it is notorious that he slighted shakspeare, milton, and corneille, and that, next to homer and virgil, his great idols were arnaud and racine. in december , tired of french manners, which had lost even their power of moving him to smiles, and it may be apprehensive of the war connected with the spanish succession, which was about to inflame all europe, addison embarked from marseilles for italy. after a narrow escape from one of those sudden mediterranean storms, in which poor shelley perished, he landed at savona, and proceeded, through wild mountain paths, to genoa. he afterwards commemorated his deliverance in the pleasing lines published in the _spectator_, beginning with-- "how are thy servants blest, o lord," one verse in which was wont to awaken the enthusiasm of the boy burns, "what though in dreadful whirls we hung, high on the broken wave," &c. the survivor of a shipwreck is, or should be, ever afterwards a sadder and a wiser man. and addison continued long to feel subdued and thankful, and could hardly have been more so though he had outlived _that_ shipwreck which bears now the relation to all recent wrecks which "_the_ storm" of november , as we shall see, bore to all inferior tempests--the loss of the _royal charter_,--the stately and gold-laden bark, which, on wednesday the th october , when on the verge of the haven which the passengers so much desired to see, was lifted up by the blast as by the hand of god, and dashed into ten thousand pieces,--hundreds of men, women, and, alas! alas! children, drowned, mutilated, crushed by falling machinery, and that, too, at a moment when they had just been assured that there was no immediate danger, and when hope was beginning to sparkle in the eyes that were sinking into despair,--sovereigns, spray, and the mangled fragments of human bodies massed together as if in the anarchy of hell, and hurled upon the rocks. addison, no more than one of the escaped from that saloon of horror and sea of death, could forget the special providence by which he was saved; and the hymn above referred to, and that other still finer, commencing-- "when all thy mercies, o my god! my rising soul surveys," seem a pillar erected on the shore to him that had protected and redeemed him. from genoa he went to milan, and thence to venice, where he saw a play on the subject of cato enacted, and began himself to indite his celebrated tragedy, of which he completed four acts ere he quitted italy. on his way to rome, he visited the miniature mountain republic of san marino, which he contemplated and described with much the same feeling of interest and amazement, as afterwards, in the _guardian_, the little colony of ants immortalised there. like swift, (whom macaulay accuses of stealing from addison's latin poem on the "pigmies," some hints for his lilliput,) addison had a finer eye for the little than for the vast. he enjoyed marino, therefore, and must have chuckled over the description of it in the geography, as much as if it had been a stroke of his own inventive pen. "besides the mountain on which the town stands, the republic possesses _two adjoining hills_." at rome he did not stay long at this time, but as if afraid of the attractions of the approaching holy week--that blaze of brilliant but false light in which so many moths have been consumed--he hurried to naples and saw vesuvius burning over its beautiful bay with less admiration than has been felt since by many inferior men. he returned to rome and lived there unharmed during the sickly season; thence he went to florence, surveying with interest the glories of its art; and in fine he crossed the alps by mount cenis to geneva, composing on his way a poetical epistle to montague, now lord halifax. the alps do not seem to have much delighted his imagination. there are a few even still who look upon mountains as excrescences and deformities, and give to glencoe only the homage of their unaffected fears, which is certainly better than the false raptures of others. but, in addison's day, admiration for wild scenery was neither pretended nor felt. our poet loved, indeed, the great silent starry night, and has whispered and stammered out some beautiful things in its praise. but he does this, so to speak, below his breath, while the white alps, seeming the shrouded corpses of the fallen titans, take that breath away, and he shudders all the road through them, and descends delightedly to the green pastures and the still waters of lower regions. at geneva, where he arrived in december , he remained some time, expecting from lord manchester the official appointment for which he was now qualified. but while waiting there, he heard the tidings of king william's death, which put an end to his hopes as well as to those of his party. his pension, too, was stopped, and he was obliged to become a tutor to a young englishman of fortune. with him he visited many parts of switzerland and germany, and spent a portion of his leisure in writing, not only his "travels," but his recondite "dialogue on medals,"--a book of considerable research and great ingenuity, which was not published, however, till after his death. from germany he passed to holland, where he heard the sad intelligence that his father was no more. during his stay in holland, he watched with keen, yet kindly eye, the manners of the inhabitants; and in his letters hits at their drinking habits with a mixture of severity and sympathy which is very characteristic. toward the close of he returned home, and, we doubt not, felt at first desolate enough. his father was dead, his pension withdrawn, his political patrons out of power, and his literary fame not yet fully established. but, on the other hand, he was only thirty-one; he had made some new and influential friends on the continent, particularly the eminent edward wortley montague, husband of the still more celebrated mary wortley montague, and he had in his portfolio a volume of "travels" of some mark and likelihood, nearly ready for the press. besides, the whigs, low as they were now in political influence, were still true to their party, and they welcomed addison, as one of their rising hopes, into the famous "kit-cat club," an _omniumgaiherum_ of all whose talents, learning, accomplishments, wit, or wealth were thought useful to the whig cause. addison's arrival in england seems to have synchronised or preceded the great tempest of november , to which we have already referred, and to which he afterwards alludes in his simile of the angel in "the campaign"-- "such as of late o'er pale britannia past." our readers will find a sketch of this terrific tempest in the commencement of ainsworth's "jack shepherd." macaulay says of it, "it was the only tempest which, in our latitude, has equalled the rage of a tropical hurricane. no other tempest was ever in this country the occasion of a parliamentary address, or of a national fast. whole fleets had been cast away. large mansions had been blown down; one prelate had been buried beneath the ruins of his palace. london and bristol had presented the appearance of cities just sacked. hundreds of families were thrown into mourning. the prostrate trunks of large trees, and the ruins of houses attested, in all the southern counties, the fury of the blast." how addison felt or fared during this storm, we have no means of knowing. perhaps his timid nature shrank from it in spite of its appeal to imagination, or perhaps the poetry that was in him triumphed over his fears, and as he felt what _zanga_ was afterwards to say-- "i love this rocking of the battlements," the image of the angel, afterwards to be dilated into the vast form of wrath, described in the "campaign," rose on his vision, and remained there indelibly fixed till the time arrived when, used with artistic skill, it floated him into fame. meanwhile, he spent this winter and spring of - in a rather precarious manner, and like a true poet. he was lodging in an obscure garret in the haymarket, up three stairs, when one day the right honourable henry boyle, the chancellor of the exchequer, called on him and communicated a project that had been concocted between godolphin and halifax. the whigs were now again in the ascendant, and the battle of blenheim, fought on the th august , had brought their triumph to a climax. halifax and godolphin were mortified at the bad poems in commemoration of it which poured from the press. their feeling was sincerely that which byron affected in reference to wellington and waterloo-- "i wish your bards would sing it rather better." they bethought themselves of addison, and sent boyle to request him to write some verses on the subject. he readily undertook the task, and when he had half-finished the "campaign," he shewed it to godolphin, who was delighted, especially with the angel, and in gratitude, instantly appointed the lucky poet to a commissionership worth about £ a-year, and assured him that this was only a foretaste of greater favours to come. the poem soon after appeared. it was received with acclamation, and addison felt that his fortune and his fame were both secured. yet, in truth, the "campaign" is not a great poem, nor, properly speaking, if we except the angel, a poem at all. it is simply a _gazette_ done into tolerable rhyme; and its chief inspiration comes from its zealous party-feeling. marlborough, though a first-rate marshal, was not a great man, not by any means so great as wellington, far less as napoleon; and how can a heroic poem be written without a hero? yet the poem fell in with the humour of the times, and was cried up as though it had been another book of the iliad. shortly afterwards he published his "travels," which were thought rather cold and classical. to them succeeded the opera of "rosamond," which, being ill-set to music, failed on the stage; but became, and is still, a favourite in the closet. it is in the lightest and easiest style of dryden,--that in which he wrote "alexander's feast," and some other of his lyrics,--but is sustained for some fifteen hundred lines with an energy and a grace which we doubt if even dryden could have equalled. its verses not only move but dance. the spirit is genial and sunny, and above the mazy motions shines the light of genuine poetry. johnson truly says, that if addison had cultivated this style he would have excelled. from the date of the "campaign," addison's life became an ascending scale of promotion. we find him first in hanover with lord halifax, then appointed under-secretary to sir charles hodges, and in a few months after to the earl of sunderland. in he was elected member for malmesbury, and the next year he accompanied thomas, earl of wharton, lord-lieutenant of ireland, to that country as his secretary, and became keeper of the records in birmingham's tower,--a nominal office worth £ a-year. his secretary's salary was £ per annum. previous to this he had resumed his intimacy with steele, to whom he lent money, and on one occasion is said to have recovered it by sending a bailiff to his house. this has been called heartless conduct, but the probability is that addison was provoked by the extravagant use made of the loan by his reckless friend. in parliament it is well-known addison never spoke; but he surrounded himself in private life with a parliament of his own, and, like cato, gave his little senate laws. that senate consisted of steele, ambrose, phillips; the wretched eustace budgell, who afterwards drowned himself; sometimes swift and pope; and ultimately tickell, who became his most confidential friend and the depositor of his literary remains. in mixed societies he was silent; but with a few select spirits around him, and especially after the "good wine did the good office" of banishing his bashfulness and taciturnity, he became the most delightful and fascinating of conversers. the staple of his conversation was quiet, sly humour; but there was fine sentiment, touches of pathos, and now and then imagination peeped over like an alp above meaner hills. swift alone, we suspect, was his match; but his power lay rather in severe and pungent sarcasm, in broad, coarse, though unsmiling wit, and at times in the fierce and terrible sallies of misanthropic rage and despair. addison, on leaving england, had, by his modesty, geniality, and amiable manners, become the most popular man in the country, so much so, that, says swift, "he might be king an' he had a mind." in ireland--although he sat as member for cavan, and appears in parliament to have got beyond his famous "i conceive--i conceive--i conceive"--(having, as the wag observed, "conceived three times and brought forth nothing"), and spoken sometimes, if not often--he did not feel himself at home. he must have loathed the licentious and corrupt wharton, and felt besides a longing for the society of london, the _noctes coenoeque deûm_ he had left behind him. it was in ireland, however, that his real literary career began. steele, in the spring of , had commenced the _tatler_, a thrice-a-week miscellany of foreign news, town gossip, short sharp papers _de omnibus rebus et guibusdum aliis_, with a sprinkling of moral and literary criticism. when addison heard of this scheme, he readily lent his aid to it, and then, as honest richard admits, "i fared like a distressed prince who calls in a powerful neighbour to his aid,--i was undone by my auxiliary." to the _tatler_ addison contributed a number of papers, which, if slighter than his better ones in the _spectator_, were nevertheless highly characteristic of his singular powers of observation, character-painting, humour, and invention. in november , he returned to england, and not long after he shared in the downfall of his party, and lost his secretaryship. this also is thought to have injured him in a tender point. he had already conceived an affection for the countess-dowager of warwick, who had been disposed to encourage the addresses of the secretary, but looked coldly on those of the mere man and scribbler joseph addison, who, to crown his misfortunes at this time, had resigned his fellowship, suffered some severe pecuniary losses of a kind, and from a quarter which are both obscure, and was trembling lest he should be deprived of his small irish office too. yet, although reduced and well-nigh beggared, never did his mind approve itself more rich. besides writing a great deal in the _tatler_, he published a political journal, called the _whig examiner_, in which, although the wit, we think, is not so fine as in his _freeholder_, there is a vigour and masculine energy which he has seldom equalled elsewhere. when it expired, swift exulted over its death in terms which sufficiently proved that he was annoyed and oppressed by its life. "he might well," says johnson, "rejoice at the death of that which he could not have killed." on the d of january , the last _tatler_ came forth; and on the st of the following march appeared the _spectator_, which is now the main pillar of addison's fame, and the fullest revelation of his exquisite genius. without being as a whole a great, or in any part of it a profound work, there are few productions which, if lost, would be more missed in literature. one reclines on its pages as on pillows. the sweetness of the spirit,--the trembling beauty of the sentences, like that of a twilight wave just touched by the west wind's balmy breath,--the nice strokes of humour, so gentle, yet so overpowering,--the feminine delicacy and refinement of the allusions,--the art which so dexterously conceals itself,--the mild enthusiasm for the works of man and god which glows in all its serious effusions,--the good nature of its satire,--the geniality of its criticism,--the everlasting april of the style, so soft and vivid,--the purity and healthiness of the moral tone,--and the childlike religion which breathes in the saturday papers--one or two of which, such as the "vision of mirza," are almost scriptural in spirit and beautiful simplicity,--combine to throw a charm around the _spectator_ which works of far loftier pretensions, if they need not, certainly do not possess. macaulay (whom we love for his love of addison and bunyan more than for aught else about his works) truly observes, that few writers have discovered so much variety and inventiveness as addison, who, in the papers of a single week, sometimes traverses the whole gamut of literature, supplying keen sarcasm, rich portraiture of character, the epistle, the tale, the allegory, the apologue, the moral essay, and the religious meditation,--all first-rate in quality, and all suggesting the idea that his resources are boundless, and that the half has not been told. his criticisms have been ridiculed as shallow; but while his lucubrations on milton were useful in their day as plain finger-posts, quietly pointing up to the stupendous sublimities of the theme, his essays on wit are subtle, and his papers on the "pleasures of imagination" throw on the beautiful topic a light like that of a red evening west, giving and receiving glory from the autumnal landscape. in the end of the _spectator_, which had circulated at one time to the extent of copies a-day, was discontinued, and in a few weeks the _guardian_ supplied its place. it was two months ere addison began to write, and during that time it was flippantly dull; but when he appeared its character changed, and his contributions to the new periodical were quite as good as the best of his _spectators_. in april his "cato" was acted with immense success, and in circumstances so well known that they need not be detailed at length. pope wrote the prologue; booth enacted the hero; steele packed the house; peers, both tory and whig, crowded the boxes; claps of applause were echoed back from high churchmen to the members of the "kit-cat club;" bolingbroke sent fifty guineas, during the progress of the play, to booth for defending the cause of liberty against a perpetual dictator, (marlborough;) and with the exception of growling dennis, everybody was in raptures. the play has long found its level. it has passages of power and thoughts of beauty, but it has one radical fault--formality. mandeville described addison as a parson in a tie-wig. "cato" is a parson without the tie-wig; an intolerable mixture of the patriot and the pedant. few would now give one of the _spectator's_ little papers about sir roger de coverley for a century of catos. in september the _guardian_ stopped; but in june addison, now separated from steele, who was carrying on a political paper called the _englishman_, added an eighth volume to the _spectator_. its contents are more uniformly serious than those of the first seven volumes, and it contains, besides addison's matchless papers, some only inferior to these, especially four by mr grove, a dissenting minister in taunton. it is recorded in "boswell" that baretti having, on the continent, met with grove's paper on "novelty," it quickened his curiosity to visit britain, for he thought, if such were the lighter periodical essays of our authors, their productions on more weighty occasions must be wonderful indeed! when george i. succeeded to the throne, addison's fortunes began to improve. a council having been appointed to manage matters till the king arrived, addison was chosen their secretary; and afterwards he went over again to ireland in his old capacity, sunderland being now lord-lieutenant. here, much as he differed from swift in politics, he resumed his intimacy with him,--an intimacy, considering the dispositions of the two men, singular, as though a lamb and a flayed bear were to form an alliance. in our poet returned to england, and obtained a seat at the board of trade. early in the year he brought out, anonymously, on the stage his comedy of the "drummer," which was coldly received. and towards the close of it, he commenced a very clever periodical called the _freeholder_. we only met with this series a few years ago, but can assure our readers that some of the most delectable bits of addison are to be found in it. there is a tory fox-hunter yet riding along there, whom we would advise you to join if you would enjoy one of the richest treats of humour; and there is a jacobite army still on its way to preston, the only danger connected with approaching which, is lest you be killed with laughter. shortly after occurred his famous quarrel with pope, to which we have already referred in our life of that poet, and do not intend to recur. next year addison's long courtship came to a successful close. he wedded the dowager warwick, went to reside at holland-house, and became miserable for life. she was a proud, imperious woman, who, instead of seeking to wean addison from his convivial habits, (if such habits in any excessive measure were his,) drove him deeper into the slough by her bitter words and haughty carriage. the tavern, which had formerly been his occasional resort, became now his nightly refuge. in he received his highest civil honour, being made secretary of state under lord sunderland; but, as usual, the slave soon appeared in the chariot. his health began to break down, and asthma soon obliged him to resign his office, on receiving a retiring pension of £ a-year. next steele and he, having taken opposite sides in politics, got engaged in a paper war--steele in the _plebeian_, and addison in the _old whig_; and personalities of a disagreeable kind passed between the two friends. in the meantime addison was dying fast. dropsy had supervened on asthma, and the help of physicians was vain. he prepared himself, like a man and a christian, to meet the last stern foe. he sent for gay and asked his forgiveness for some act of unkindness he had done him. gay granted it, although utterly ignorant of what the offence had been. he had probably, on account of his toryism, been deprived, through addison's means, of some preferment. he entrusted his works to the care of tickell, and dedicated them to craggs, his successor in the secretaryship, in a touching and beautiful letter, written a few days before his death. he called, it is said, the young earl of warwick, his wife's son, a very dissipated young man, and of unsettled religious principles, to his bedside, and said, "i have sent for you that you may see how a christian can die." he breathed his last on the th june , forty-seven years old, and leaving one child, a daughter, who died, at an advanced age, at bilton, warwickshire, in . his funeral took place, at dead of night, in westminster abbey, bishop atterbury meeting the procession and reading the service by torch-light. he was laid beside his friend montague, and in a few months his successor, craggs, was laid beside him. nearly a century elapsed ere the present monument was erected over his dust. tickell wrote a fine poem to his memory; and a splendid edition of his works was published by subscription in . addison was cut off in the prime of life, and interrupted in some literary undertakings and projects of great pith and moment. he had written a portion of a treatise on the "evidences of christianity," and was meditating some works, such as a "metrical version of the psalms" and a tragedy on the history of socrates, still more suitable to his cast of mind. we have already indicated our opinion alike of addison's character and genius, but must be permitted a few closing remarks. both partook of the feminine type. he was an amiable and highly gifted, rather than a strong or great man. his shrinking timidity of temperament, his singular modesty of manners, his quiet, sly power of humorous yet kindly observation, his minute style of criticism, even the peculiar cast of his piety, all served to stamp the lady-man. in taciturnity alone he bore the sex no resemblance. and hence it is that campbell in poetry, and addison in prose, are, or were, the great favourites of female readers. he had many weaknesses, but, as in the character of woman, they appeared beautiful, and cognate to his gentle nature. his fear of giving offence was one of the most prominent of these. in his writings and in his life, he seems always treading on thin ice. pope said truly of him-- "he hints a fault, and hesitates dislike." but this was not owing to malice, but to the bashful good nature which distinguished him. it is true, too, that he hints a beauty, and hesitates in his expressions of love. he says himself the finest things, and then blushes as if detected in a crime; or he praises an obvious and colossal merit in another, and then starts at the sound himself had made. his encomiums resemble the evening talk of lovers, being low, sweet, and trembling. were we to speak of addison phrenologically, we should say that, next to veneration, wit, and ideality, his principal faculties were caution and secretiveness. he was cautious to the brink of cowardice. we fancy him in a considerable fright in the storm on the ligurian gulf, amidst the exhalations of the unhealthy campagna, and while the avalanches of the alps--"the thunderbolts of snow"--were falling around him. we know that he walked about behind the scenes perspiring with agitation while the fate of "cato" was still undecided. had it failed, addison never could, as dr johnson, when asked how he felt after "irene" was damned, have replied, "like the monument." we know, too, that he sought to soothe the fury and stroke down the angry bristles of john dennis. to call the author of the "campaign" a coward were going too far; but he felt, we believe, more of a martial glow while writing it in his haymarket garret than had he mingled in the fray. and as to his secretiveness, his still, deep, scarce-rippling stream of humour, his habit, commemorated by swift, when he found any man invincibly wrong, of flattering his opinions by acquiescence, and sinking him yet deeper in absurdity; even the fact that no word is found more frequently in his writings than "secret" ("secret joy," "secret satisfaction," "secret solace," are phrases constantly occurring,) prove that, whatever else he had possessed of the female character, the title of the play, "a wonder--a woman keeps a secret," had been no paradox in reference to him. having his lips in general barred by the double bolts of caution and secretiveness, one ceases to wonder that the "invisible spirit of wine" was welcomed by him as a key to open occasionally the rich treasures of his mind; but that he was a habitual drunkard is one calumny; that he wrote his best _spectators_ when too much excited with wine is another; and that he "died drunk" is a third,--and the most atrocious of all, propagated though it has been by walpole and byron. his habits, however, were undoubtedly too careless and convivial; and there used to be a floating tradition in holland-house, that, when meditating his writings there, he was wont to walk along a gallery, at each end of which stood a separate bottle, out of both of which he never failed, _en passant_, to sip! this, after all, however, may be only a mythical fable. while, as an author, the favourite of ladies, of the young, and of catholic-minded critics generally, addison has had, and has still, severe and able detractors, who are wont to speak of him in such a manner as this:--"he is a highly cultivated artist, but not one thought of any vivid novelty did he put out in all his many books. you become placid reading him, but think of ossian and shakspeare, and be silent. he is a lapidary polishing pebbles,--a pretty art, but not vested with the glories of sculpture, nor the mathematical magnitude of architecture. he does not walk a demigod, but a stiff anglicised imitator of french paces. he is a symmetrical, but a small invisible personage at rapier practice." now, clever as this is, it only proves that addison is not a shakspeare or milton. he does not pretend to be either. he is no demigod, but he is a man, a lady-man if you will, but the lovelier on that account. besides, he was cut off in his prime, and when he might have girt himself up to achieve greater things than he has done. and although the french taste of his age somewhat affected and chilled his genius, yet he knew of other models than racine and boileau. he drank of "siloa's brook." he admired and imitated the poetry of the bible. he loves not, indeed, its wilder and higher strains; he gets giddy on the top of lebanon; the valley of dry bones he treads with timid steps; and his look up to the "terrible crystal" is more of fright than of exultation. but the lovelier, softer, simpler, and more pensive parts of the bible are very dear to the gentle _spectator_, and are finely, if faintly, reproduced in his writings. indeed, the principle which would derogate from addison's works, would lead to the depreciation of portions of the scriptures too. "ruth" is not so grand as the "revelation;" the "song of solomon" is not so sublime as the "song of songs, which is isaiah's;" and the story of joseph has not the mystic grandeur or rushing fire of ezekiel's prophecy. but there they are in the same book of god, and are even dearer to many hearts than the loftier portions; and so with addison's papers beside the works of bacon, milton, and coleridge. his poetry is now in our readers' hands, and should be read with a candid spirit. they will admire the elegance and gracefully-used learning of the "epistle to halifax." they will not be astonished at the "campaign," but they will regard it with interest as the lever which first lifted addison into his true place in society and letters. they will find much to please them in his verses to dryden, somers, king william, and his odes on st cecilia's day; and they will pause with peculiar fondness over those delightful hymns, some of which they have sung or repeated from infancy, which they will find again able to "beat the heavenward flame," and start the tender and pious tear, and which are of themselves sufficient to rank addison high on the list of christian poets. [footnote : among these "others" was abraham stanyan, plenipotentiary extraordinary at neufchatel at the settlement of the rival claims of the duke of brandenberg, holland, and france, to that principality. he was afterwards ambassador to france. he married a daughter of dr pritchett, bishop of gloucester. it is said, that, having on one occasion borrowed a sum of money from addison, the latter observed him to be very subservient, agreeing with every opinion mr a. expressed, till addison, provoked, and guessing the cause, said, "stanyan, either contradict me, or pay me my money." our friend, mr j. stanyan bigg, author of the very brilliant poem, "night and the soul," is a descendant of abraham stanyan.] addison's poetical works. poems on several occasions. to mr dryden. how long, great poet, shall thy sacred lays provoke our wonder, and transcend our praise? can neither injuries of time, nor age, damp thy poetic heat, and quench thy rage? not so thy ovid in his exile wrote; grief chilled his breast, and checked his rising thought; pensive and sad, his drooping muse betrays the roman genius in its last decays. prevailing warmth has still thy mind possess'd, and second youth is kindled in thy breast; _ thou mak'st the beauties of the romans known, and england boasts of riches not her own; thy lines have heightened virgil's majesty, and horace wonders at himself in thee. thou teachest persius to inform our isle in smoother numbers, and a clearer style; and juvenal, instructed in thy page, edges his satire, and improves his rage. thy copy casts a fairer light on all, and still outshines the bright original. _ now ovid boasts the advantage of thy song, and tells his story in the british tongue; thy charming verse and fair translations show how thy own laurel first began to grow; how wild lycaon, changed by angry gods, and frighted at himself, ran howling through the woods. oh, mayst thou still the noble task prolong, nor age nor sickness interrupt thy song! then may we wondering read, how human limbs have watered kingdoms, and dissolved in streams; _ of those rich fruits that on the fertile mould turned yellow by degrees, and ripened into gold: how some in feathers, or a ragged hide, have lived a second life, and different natures tried. then will thy ovid, thus transformed, reveal a nobler change than he himself can tell. _mag. coll. oxon, june , . the author's age_, . a poem to his majesty,[ ] presented to the lord keeper. to the right honourable sir john somers, lokd keeper of the great seal. if yet your thoughts are loose from state affairs, nor feel the burden of a kingdom's cares, if yet your time and actions are your own, receive the present of a muse unknown: a muse that in adventurous numbers sings the rout of armies, and the fall of kings, britain advanced, and europe's peace restored, by somers' counsels, and by nassau's sword. to you, my lord, these daring thoughts belong, who helped to raise the subject of my song; _ to you the hero of my verse reveals his great designs; to you in council tells his inmost thoughts, determining the doom of towns unstormed, and battles yet to come. and well could you, in your immortal strains, describe his conduct, and reward his pains: but since the state has all your cares engross'd, and poetry in higher thoughts is lost, attend to what a lesser muse indites, pardon her faults and countenance her flights. _ on you, my lord, with anxious fear i wait, and from your judgment must expect my fate, who, free from vulgar passions, are above degrading envy, or misguided love; if you, well pleased, shall smile upon my lays, secure of fame, my voice i'll boldly raise; for next to what you write, is what you praise. to the king. when now the business of the field is o'er, the trumpets sleep, and cannons cease to roar; when every dismal echo is decay'd, and all the thunder of the battle laid; attend, auspicious prince, and let the muse in humble accents milder thoughts infuse. others, in bold prophetic numbers skill'd, set thee in arms, and led thee to the field; my muse, expecting, on the british strand waits thy return, and welcomes thee to land: _ she oft has seen thee pressing on the foe, when europe was concerned in every blow; but durst not in heroic strains rejoice; is the trumpets, drums, and cannons drowned her voice: she saw the boyne run thick with human gore, and floating corps lie beating on the shore: she saw thee climb the banks, but tried in vain to trace her hero through the dusty plain, when through the thick embattled lines he broke, now plunged amidst the foes, now lost in clouds of smoke. _ oh that some muse, renowned for lofty verse, in daring numbers would thy toils rehearse! draw thee beloved in peace, and feared in wars, inured to noonday sweats, and midnight cares! but still the godlike man, by some hard fate, receives the glory of his toils too late; too late the verse the mighty act succeeds; one age the hero, one the poet breeds. a thousand years in full succession ran ere virgil raised his voice, and sung the man _ who, driven by stress of fate, such dangers bore on stormy seas and a disastrous shore, before he settled in the promised earth, and gave the empire of the world its birth. troy long had found the grecians bold and fierce, ere homer mustered up their troops in verse; long had achilles quelled the trojans' lust, and laid the labour of the gods in dust, before the towering muse began her flight, and drew the hero raging in the fight, _ engaged in tented fields and rolling floods, or slaughtering mortals, or a match for gods. and here, perhaps, by fate's unerring doom, some mighty bard lies hid in years to come, that shall in william's godlike acts engage, and with his battles warm a future age. hibernian fields shall here thy conquests show, and boyne be sung when it has ceased to flow; here gallic labours shall advance thy fame, and here seneffe[ ] shall wear another name. _ our late posterity, with secret dread, shall view thy battles, and with pleasure read how, in the bloody field, too near advanced, the guiltless bullet on thy shoulder glanced. the race of nassaus was by heaven design'd to curb the proud oppressors of mankind, to bind the tyrants of the earth with laws, and fight in every injured nation's cause, the world's great patriots; they for justice call, and, as they favour, kingdoms rise or fall. _ our british youth, unused to rough alarms, careless of fame, and negligent of arms, had long forgot to meditate the foe, and heard unwarmed the martial trumpet blow; but now, inspired by thee, with fresh delight their swords they brandish, and require the fight, renew their ancient conquests on the main, and act their fathers' triumphs o'er again; fired, when they hear how agincourt was strow'd with gallic corps and cressi swam in blood, _ with eager warmth they fight, ambitious all who first shall storm the breach, or mount the wall. in vain the thronging enemy by force would clear the ramparts, and repel their course; they break through all, for william leads the way, where fires rage most, and loudest engines play. namur's late terrors and destruction show what william, warmed with just revenge, can do: where once a thousand turrets raised on high their gilded spires, and glittered in the sky, _ an undistinguished heap of dust is found, and all the pile lies smoking on the ground, his toils, for no ignoble ends design'd, promote the common welfare of mankind; no wild ambition moves, but europe's fears, the cries of orphans, and the widow's tears; oppressed religion gives the first alarms, and injured justice sets him in his arms; his conquests freedom to the world afford, and nations bless the labours of his sword. _ thus when the forming muse would copy forth a perfect pattern of heroic worth, she sets a man triumphant in the field, o'er giants cloven down, and monsters kill'd, reeking in blood, and smeared with dust and sweat, whilst angry gods conspire to make him great. thy navy rides on seas before unpress'd, and strikes a terror through the haughty east; algiers and tunis from their sultry shore with horror hear the british engines roar; _ fain from the neighbouring dangers would they run, and wish themselves still nearer to the sun. the gallic ships are in their ports confined, denied the common use of sea and wind, nor dare again the british strength engage; still they remember that destructive rage which lately made their trembling host retire, stunned with the noise, and wrapt in smoke and fire; the waves with wide unnumbered wrecks were strow'd, and planks, and arms, and men, promiscuous flow'd. _ spain's numerous fleet, that perished on our coast, could scarce a longer line of battle boast, the winds could hardly drive them to their fate, and all the ocean laboured with the weight. where'er the waves in restless errors roll, the sea lies open now to either pole: now may we safely use the northern gales, and in the polar circle spread our sails; or deep in southern climes, secure from wars, new lands explore, and sail by other stars; _ fetch uncontrolled each labour of the sun, and make the product of the world our own. at length, proud prince, ambitious louis, cease to plague mankind, and trouble europe's peace; think on the structures which thy pride has razed, on towns unpeopled, and on fields laid waste; think on the heaps of corps and streams of blood, on every guilty plain, and purple flood, thy arms have made, and cease an impious war, nor waste the lives intrusted to thy care. _ or if no milder thought can calm thy mind, behold the great avenger of mankind, see mighty nassau through the battle ride, and see thy subjects gasping by his side: fain would the pious prince refuse the alarm, fain would he check the fury of his arm; but when thy cruelties his thoughts engage, the hero kindles with becoming rage, then countries stolen, and captives unrestored, give strength to every blow, and edge his sword. _ behold with what resistless force he falls on towns besieged, and thunders at thy walls! ask villeroy, for villeroy beheld the town surrendered, and the treaty seal'd, with what amazing strength the forts were won, whilst the whole power of france stood looking on. but stop not here: behold where berkley stands, and executes his injured king's commands! around thy coast his bursting bombs he pours on flaming citadels and falling towers; _ with hissing streams of fire the air they streak, and hurl destruction round them where they break; the skies with long ascending flames are bright, and all the sea reflects a quivering light. thus Ætna, when in fierce eruptions broke, fills heaven with ashes, and the earth with smoke; here crags of broken rocks are twirled on high, here molten stones and scattered cinders fly: its fury reaches the remotest coast, and strows the asiatic shore with dust. _ now does the sailor from the neighbouring main look after gallic towns and forts in vain; no more his wonted marks he can descry, but sees a long unmeasured ruin lie; whilst, pointing to the naked coast, he shows his wondering mates where towns and steeples rose, where crowded citizens he lately view'd, and singles out the place where once st maloes stood. here russel's actions should my muse require; and, would my strength but second my desire, _ i'd all his boundless bravery rehearse, and draw his cannons thundering in my verse: high on the deck should the great leader stand, wrath in his look, and lightning in his hand; like homer's hector, when he flung his fire amidst a thousand ships, and made all greece retire. but who can run the british triumphs o'er, and count the flames dispersed on every shore? who can describe the scattered victory, and draw the reader on from sea to sea? _ else who could ormond's godlike acts refuse, ormond the theme of every oxford muse? fain would i here his mighty worth proclaim, attend him in the noble chase of fame, through all the noise and hurry of the fight, observe each blow, and keep him still in sight. oh, did our british peers thus court renown, and grace the coats their great forefathers won, our arms would then triumphantly advance, nor henry be the last that conquered france! _ what might not england hope, if such abroad purchased their country's honour with their blood: when such, detained at home, support our state in william's stead, and bear a kingdom's weight, the schemes of gallic policy o'erthrow, and blast the counsels of the common foe; direct our armies, and distribute right, and render our maria's loss more light. but stop, my muse, the ungrateful sound forbear, maria's name still wounds each british ear: _ each british heart maria still does wound, and tears burst out unbidden at the sound; maria still our rising mirth destroys, darkens our triumphs, and forbids our joys. but see, at length, the british ships appear! our nassau comes! and, as his fleet draws near, the rising masts advance, the sails grow white, and all his pompous navy floats in sight. come, mighty prince, desired of britain, come! may heaven's propitious gales attend thee home! _ come, and let longing crowds behold that look which such confusion and amazement strook through gallic hosts: but, oh! let us descry mirth in thy brow, and pleasure in thy eye; let nothing dreadful in thy face be found; but for awhile forget the trumpet's sound; well-pleased, thy people's loyalty approve, accept their duty, and enjoy their love. for as, when lately moved with fierce delight, you plunged amidst the tumult of the fight, _ whole heaps of dead encompassed you around, and steeds o'erturned lay foaming on the ground: so crowned with laurels now, where'er you go, around you blooming joys and peaceful blessings flow. a translation of all virgil's fourth georgic, except the story of aristÆus. ethereal sweets shall next my muse engage, and this, maecenas, claims your patronage. of little creatures' wondrous acts i treat, the ranks and mighty leaders of their state, their laws, employments, and their wars relate. a trifling theme provokes my humble lays. trifling the theme, not so the poet's praise, if great apollo and the tuneful nine first, for your bees a proper station find, _ that's fenced about, and sheltered from the wind; for winds divert them in their flight, and drive the swarms, when loaden homeward, from their hive. nor sheep, nor goats, must pasture near their stores, to trample underfoot the springing flowers; nor frisking heifers bound about the place, to spurn the dew-drops off, and bruise the rising grass; nor must the lizard's painted brood appear, nor wood-pecks, nor the swallow, harbour near. they waste the swarms, and, as they fly along, _ convey the tender morsels to their young. let purling streams, and fountains edged with moss, and shallow rills run trickling through the grass; let branching olives o'er the fountain grow; or palms shoot up, and shade the streams below; that when the youth, led by their princes, shun the crowded hive and sport it in the sun, refreshing springs may tempt them from the heat, and shady coverts yield a cool retreat. whether the neighbouring water stands or runs, _ lay twigs across and bridge it o'er with stones that if rough storms, or sudden blasts of wind, should dip or scatter those that lag behind, here they may settle on the friendly stone, and dry their reeking pinions at the sun. plant all the flowery banks with lavender, with store of savory scent the fragrant air; let running betony the field o'erspread, and fountains soak the violet's dewy bed. though barks or plaited willows make your hive, _ a narrow inlet to their cells contrive; for colds congeal and freeze the liquors up, and, melted down with heat, the waxen buildings drop. the bees, of both extremes alike afraid, their wax around the whistling crannies spread, and suck out clammy dews from herbs and flowers, to smear the chinks, and plaster up the pores; for this they hoard up glue, whose clinging drops, like pitch or bird-lime, hang in stringy ropes. they oft, 'tis said, in dark retirements dwell, _ and work in subterraneous caves their cell; at other times the industrious insects live in hollow rocks, or make a tree their hive. point all their chinky lodgings round with mud, and leaves must thinly on your work be strow'd; but let no baleful yew-tree flourish near, nor rotten marshes send out steams of mire; nor burning crabs grow red, and crackle in the fire: nor neighbouring caves return the dying sound, nor echoing rocks the doubled voice rebound. _ things thus prepared---- when the under-world is seized with cold and night, and summer here descends in streams of light, the bees through woods and forests take their flight. they rifle every flower, and lightly skim the crystal brook, and sip the running stream; and thus they feed their young with strange delight, and knead the yielding wax, and work the slimy sweet. but when on high you see the bees repair, borne on the winds through distant tracts of air, _ and view the winged cloud all blackening from afar; while shady coverts and fresh streams they choose, milfoil and common honeysuckles bruise, and sprinkle on their hives the fragrant juice. on brazen vessels beat a tinkling sound, and shake the cymbals of the goddess round; then all will hastily retreat, and fill the warm resounding hollow of their cell. if once two rival kings their right debate, and factions and cabals embroil the state, _ the people's actions will their thoughts declare; all their hearts tremble, and beat thick with war; hoarse, broken sounds, like trumpets' harsh alarms, run through the hive, and call them to their arms; all in a hurry spread their shivering wings, and fit their claws, and point their angry stings: in crowds before the king's pavilion meet, and boldly challenge out the foe to fight: at last, when all the heavens are warm and fair, they rush together out, and join; the air _ swarms thick, and echoes with the humming war. all in a firm round cluster mix, and strow with heaps of little corps the earth below, as thick as hailstones from the floor rebound, or shaken acorns rattle on the ground. no sense of danger can their kings control, their little bodies lodge a mighty soul: each obstinate in arms pursues his blow, till shameful flight secures the routed foe. this hot dispute and all this mighty fray _ a little dust flung upward will allay. but when both kings are settled in their hive, mark him who looks the worst, and, lest he live idle at home in ease and luxury, the lazy monarch must be doomed to die; so let the royal insect rule alone, and reign without a rival in his throne. the kings are different; one of better note, all speck'd with gold, and many a shining spot, looks gay, and glistens in a gilded coat; _ but love of ease, and sloth, in one prevails, that scarce his hanging paunch behind him trails: the people's looks are different as their kings', some sparkle bright, and glitter in their wings; others look loathsome and diseased with sloth, like a faint traveller, whose dusty mouth grows dry with heat, and spits a mawkish froth. the first are best---- from their o'erflowing combs you'll often press pure luscious sweets, that mingling in the glass _ correct the harshness of the racy juice, and a rich flavour through the wine diffuse. but when they sport abroad, and rove from home, and leave the cooling hive, and quit the unfinished comb, their airy ramblings are with ease confined, clip their king's wings, and if they stay behind no bold usurper dares invade their right, nor sound a march, nor give the sign for flight. let flowery banks entice them to their cells, and gardens all perfumed with native smells; _ where carved priapus has his fixed abode, the robber's terror, and the scarecrow god. wild thyme and pine-trees from their barren hill transplant, and nurse them in the neighbouring soil, set fruit-trees round, nor e'er indulge thy sloth, but water them, and urge their shady growth. and here, perhaps, were not i giving o'er, and striking sail, and making to the shore, i'd show what art the gardener's toils require, why rosy pæstum blushes twice a year; _ what streams the verdant succory supply, and how the thirsty plant drinks rivers dry; with what a cheerful green does parsley grace, and writhes the bellying cucumber along the twisted grass; nor would i pass the soft acanthus o'er, ivy nor myrtle-trees that love the shore; nor daffodils, that late from earth's slow womb unrumple their swoln buds, and show their yellow bloom. for once i saw in the tarentine vale, where slow galesus drenched the washy soil, _ an old corician yeoman, who had got a few neglected acres to his lot, where neither corn nor pasture graced the field, nor would the vine her purple harvest yield; but savoury herbs among the thorns were found, vervain and poppy-flowers his garden crown'd, and drooping lilies whitened all the ground. blest with these riches he could empires slight, and when he rested from his toils at night, the earth unpurchased dainties would afford, _ and his own garden furnished out his board: the spring did first his opening roses blow, first ripening autumn bent his fruitful bough. when piercing colds had burst the brittle stone, and freezing rivers stiffened as they run, he then would prune the tenderest of his trees, chide the late spring, and lingering western breeze: his bees first swarmed, and made his vessels foam with the rich squeezing of the juicy comb. here lindens and the sappy pine increased; _ here, when gay flowers his smiling orchard dressed, as many blossoms as the spring could show, so many dangling apples mellowed on the bough. in rows his elms and knotty pear-trees bloom, and thorns ennobled now to bear a plum, and spreading plane-trees, where, supinely laid, he now enjoys the cool, and quaffs beneath the shade. but these for want of room i must omit, and leave for future poets to recite. now i'll proceed their natures to declare, _ which jove himself did on the bees confer because, invited by the timbrel's sound, lodged in a cave, the almighty babe they found, and the young god nursed kindly under-ground. of all the winged inhabitants of air, these only make their young the public care; in well-disposed societies they live, and laws and statutes regulate their hive; nor stray like others unconfined abroad, but know set stations, and a fixed abode: _ each provident of cold in summer flies through fields and woods, to seek for new supplies, and in the common stock unlades his thighs. some watch the food, some in the meadows ply, taste every bud, and suck each blossom dry; whilst others, labouring in their cells at home, temper narcissus' clammy tears with gum, for the first groundwork of the golden comb; on this they found their waxen works, and raise the yellow fabric on its gluey base. _ some educate the young, or hatch the seed with vital warmth, and future nations breed; whilst others thicken all the slimy dews, and into purest honey work the juice; then fill the hollows of the comb, and swell with luscious nectar every flowing cell. by turns they watch, by turns with curious eyes survey the heavens, and search the clouded skies, to find out breeding storms, and tell what tempests rise. by turns they ease the loaden swarms, or drive _ the drone, a lazy insect, from their hive. the work is warmly plied through all the cells, and strong with thyme the new-made honey smells. so in their caves the brawny cyclops sweat, when with huge strokes the stubborn wedge they beat, and all the unshapen thunderbolt complete; alternately their hammers rise and fall; whilst griping tongs turn round the glowing ball. with puffing bellows some the flames increase, and some in waters dip the hissing mass; _ their beaten anvils dreadfully resound, and Ætna shakes all o'er, and thunders under-ground. thus, if great things we may with small compare, the busy swarms their different labours share. desire of profit urges all degrees; the aged insects, by experience wise, attend the comb, and fashion every part, and shape the waxen fret-work out with art: the young at night, returning from their toils, bring home their thighs clogged with the meadows' spoils. _ on lavender and saffron buds they feed, on bending osiers and the balmy reed, from purple violets and the teile they bring their gathered sweets, and rifle all the spring. all work together, all together rest, the morning still renews their labours past; then all rush out, their different tasks pursue, sit on the bloom, and suck the ripening dew; again, when evening warns them to their home, with weary wings and heavy thighs they come, _ and crowd about the chink, and mix a drowsy hum. into their cells at length they gently creep, there all the night their peaceful station keep, wrapt up in silence, and dissolved in sleep. none range abroad when winds and storms are nigh, nor trust their bodies to a faithless sky, but make small journeys with a careful wing, and fly to water at a neighbouring spring; and lest their airy bodies should be cast in restless whirls, the sport of every blast, _ they carry stones to poise them in their flight, as ballast keeps the unsteady vessel right. but, of all customs that the bees can boast, 'tis this may challenge admiration most; that none will hymen's softer joys approve, nor waste their spirits in luxurious love, but all a long virginity maintain, and bring forth young without a mother's pain: from herbs and flowers they pick each tender bee, and cull from plants a buzzing progeny; _ from these they choose out subjects, and create a little monarch of the rising state; then build wax kingdoms for the infant prince, and form a palace for his residence. but often in their journeys, as they fly, on flints they tear their silken wings, or lie grovelling beneath their flowery load, and die. thus love of honey can an insect fire, and in a fly such generous thoughts inspire. yet by repeopling their decaying state, _ though seven short springs conclude their vital date, their ancient stocks eternally remain, and in an endless race their children's children reign. no prostrate vassal of the east can more with slavish fear his haughty prince adore; his life unites them all; but, when he dies, all in loud tumults and distractions rise; they waste their honey and their combs deface, and wild confusion reigns in every place. him all admire, all the great guardian own, _ and crowd about his courts, and buzz about his throne. oft on their backs their weary prince they bear, oft in his cause, embattled in the air, pursue a glorious death, in wounds and war. some, from such instances as these, have taught, 'the bees' extract is heavenly; for they thought the universe alive; and that a soul, diffused throughout the matter of the whole, to all the vast unbounded frame was given, and ran through earth, and air, and sea, and all the deep of heaven; _ that this first kindled life in man and beast, life, that again flows into this at last. that no compounded animal could die, but when dissolved, the spirit mounted high, dwelt in a star, and settled in the sky.' whene'er their balmy sweets you mean to seize, and take the liquid labours of the bees, spurt draughts of water from your mouth, and drive a loathsome cloud of smoke amidst their hive, twice in the year their flowery toils begin, _ and twice they fetch their dewy harvest in; once, when the lovely pleiades arise, and add fresh lustre to the summer skies; and once, when hastening from the watery sign, they quit their station, and forbear to shine. the bees are prone to rage, and often found to perish for revenge, and die upon the wound their venomed sting produces aching pains, and swells the flesh, and shoots among the veins. when first a cold hard winter's storms arrive, _ and threaten death or famine to their hive, if now their sinking state and low affairs can move your pity, and provoke your cares, fresh burning thyme before their cells convey, and cut their dry and husky wax away; for often lizards seize the luscious spoils, or drones, that riot on another's toils: oft broods of moths infest the hungry swarms, and oft the furious wasp their hive alarms with louder hums, and with unequal arms; _ or else the spider at their entrance sets. her snares, and spins her bowels into nets. when sickness reigns, for they as well as we feel all the effects of frail mortality, by certain marks the new disease is seen, their colour changes, and their looks are thin; their funeral rites are formed, and every bee with grief attends the sad solemnity; the few diseased survivors hang before their sickly cells, and droop about the door, _ or slowly in their hives their limbs unfold, shrunk up with hunger, and benumbed with cold; in drawling hums the feeble insects grieve, and doleful buzzes echo through the hive, like winds that softly murmur through the trees, like flames pent up, or like retiring seas. now lay fresh honey near their empty rooms, in troughs of hollow reeds, whilst frying gums cast round a fragrant mist of spicy fumes. thus kindly tempt the famished swarm to eat, _ and gently reconcile them to their meat. mix juice of galls, and wine, that grow in time condensed by fire, and thicken to a slime; to these, dried roses, thyme, and ccntaury join, and raisins, ripened on the psythian vine. besides, there grows a flower in marshy ground, its name amellus, easy to be found; a mighty spring works in its root, and cleaves the sprouting stalk, and shows itself in leaves: the flower itself is of a golden hue, _ the leaves inclining to a darker blue; the leaves shoot thick about the flower, and grow into a bush, and shade the turf below: the plant in holy garlands often twines the altars' posts, and beautifies the shrines; its taste is sharp, in vales new-shorn it grows, where mella's stream in watery mazes flows. take plenty of its roots, and boil them well in wine, and heap them up before the cell. but if the whole stock fail, and none survive; _ to raise new people, and recruit the hive, i'll here the great experiment declare, that spread the arcadian shepherd's name so far. how bees from blood of slaughtered bulls have fled, and swarms amidst the red corruption bred. for where the egyptians yearly see their bounds refreshed with floods, and sail about their grounds, where persia borders, and the rolling nile drives swiftly down the swarthy indian's soil, till into seven it multiplies its stream, _ and fattens egypt with a fruitful slime: in this last practice all their hope remains, and long experience justifies their pains. first, then, a close contracted space of ground, with straitened walls and low-built roof, they found; a narrow shelving light is next assign'd to all the quarters, one to every wind; through these the glancing rays obliquely pierce: hither they lead a bull that's young and fierce, when two years' growth of horn he proudly shows, _ and shakes the comely terrors of his brows: his nose and mouth, the avenues of breath, they muzzle up, and beat his limbs to death; with violence to life and stifling pain he flings and spurns, and tries to snort in vain, loud heavy blows fall thick on every side, till his bruised bowels burst within the hide; when dead, they leave him rotting on the ground, with branches, thyme, and cassia, strowed around. all this is done, when first the western breeze _ becalms the year, and smooths the troubled seas; before the chattering swallow builds her nest, or fields in spring's embroidery are dress'd. meanwhile the tainted juice ferments within, and quickens as its works: and now are seen a wondrous swarm, that o'er the carcase crawls, of shapeless, rude, unfinished animals. no legs at first the insect's weight sustain, at length it moves its new-made limbs with pain; now strikes the air with quivering wings, and tries _ to lift its body up, and learns to rise; now bending thighs and gilded wings it wears full grown, and all the bee at length appears; from every side the fruitful carcase pours its swarming brood, as thick as summer showers, or flights of arrows from the parthian bows, when twanging strings first shoot them on the foes. thus have i sung the nature of the bee; while cæsar, towering to divinity, the frighted indians with his thunder awed, _ and claimed their homage, and commenced a god; i flourished all the while in arts of peace, retired and sheltered in inglorious ease; i who before the songs of shepherds made, when gay and young my rural lays i play'd, and set my tityrus beneath his shade. a song for st cecilia's day, at oxford. i. cecilia, whose exalted hymns with joy and wonder fill the blest, in choirs of warbling seraphims, known and distinguished from the rest, attend, harmonious saint, and see thy vocal sons of harmony; attend, harmonious saint, and hear our prayers; enliven all our earthly airs, and, as thou sing'st thy god, teach us to sing of thee; tune every string and every tongue, be thou the muse and subject of our song. ii. let all cecilia's praise proclaim, employ the echo in her name, hark how the flutes and trumpets raise, at bright cecilia's name, their lays; the organ labours in her praise. cecilia's name does all our numbers grace, from every voice the tuneful accents fly, in soaring trebles now it rises high, and now it sinks, and dwells upon the base. cecilia's name through all the notes we sing, the work of every skilful tongue, the sound of every trembling string, the sound and triumph of our song. iii. for ever consecrate the day, to music and cecilia; music, the greatest good that mortals know, and all of heaven we have below. music can noble hints impart, engender fury, kindle love; with unsuspected eloquence can move, and manage all the man with secret art. when orpheus strikes the trembling lyre, the streams stand still, the stones admire; the listening savages advance, the wolf and lamb around him trip, the bears in awkward measures leap, and tigers mingle in the dance. the moving woods attended, as he play'd, and rhodope was left without a shade. iv. music religious heats inspires, it wakes the soul, and lifts it high, and wings it with sublime desires, and fits it to bespeak the deity. the almighty listens to a tuneful tongue, and seems well-pleased and courted with a song. soft moving sounds and heavenly airs give force to every word, and recommend our prayers. when time itself shall be no more, and all things in confusion hurled, music shall then exert its power, and sound survive the ruins of the world: then saints and angels shall agree in one eternal jubilee: all heaven shall echo with their hymns divine, and god himself with pleasure see the whole creation in a chorus join. chorus. consecrate the place and day, to music and cecilia. let no rough winds approach, nor dare invade the hallowed bounds, nor rudely shake the tuneful air, nor spoil the fleeting sounds. nor mournful sigh nor groan be heard, but gladness dwell on every tongue; whilst all, with voice and strings prepared, keep up the loud harmonious song, and imitate the blest above, in joy, and harmony, and love. an ode for st cecilia's day. set to music by mr daniel purcell. performed at oxford . prepare the hallowed strain, my muse, thy softest sounds and sweetest numbers choose; the bright cecilia's praise rehearse, in warbling words, and gliding verse, that smoothly run into a song, and gently die away, and melt upon the tongue. first let the sprightly violin the joyful melody begin, and none of all her strings be mute; while the sharp sound and shriller lay _ in sweet harmonious notes decay, softened and mellowed by the flute. 'the flute that sweetly can complain, dissolve the frozen nymph's disdain; panting sympathy impart, till she partake her lover's smart.'[ ] chorus. next, let the solemn organ join religious airs, and strains divine, such as may lift us to the skies, and set all heaven before our eyes: _ 'such as may lift us to the skies; so far at least till they descend with kind surprise, and meet our pious harmony half-way.' let then the trumpet's piercing sound our ravished ears with pleasure wound. the soul o'erpowering with delight, as, with a quick uncommon ray, a streak of lightning clears the day, and flashes on the sight. _ let echo too perform her part, prolonging every note with art, and in a low expiring strain play all the concert o'er again. such were the tuneful notes that hung on bright cecilia's charming tongue: notes that sacred heats inspired, and with religious ardour fired: the love-sick youth, that long suppress'd his smothered passion in his breast, _ no sooner heard the warbling dame, but, by the secret influence turn'd, he felt a new diviner flame, and with devotion burn'd. with ravished soul, and looks amazed, upon her beauteous face he gazed; nor made his amorous complaint: in vain her eyes his heart had charm'd, her heavenly voice her eyes disarm'd, and changed the lover to a saint. _ grand chorus. and now the choir complete rejoices, with trembling strings and melting voices. the tuneful ferment rises high, and works with mingled melody: quick divisions run their rounds, a thousand trills and quivering sounds in airy circles o'er us fly, till, wafted by a gentle breeze, they faint and languish by degrees, and at a distance die. _ an account of the greatest english poets to mr henry sacheverell. april , . since, dearest harry, you will needs request a short account of all the muse-possess'd, that, down from chaucer's days to dryden's times, have spent their noble rage in british rhymes; without more preface, writ in formal length, to speak the undertaker's want of strength, i'll try to make their several beauties known, and show their verses' worth, though not my own. long had our dull forefathers slept supine, nor felt the raptures of the tuneful nine; _ till chaucer first, the merry bard, arose, and many a story told in rhyme and prose. but age has rusted what the poet writ, worn out his language, and obscured his wit; in vain he jests in his unpolished strain, and tries to make his readers laugh in vain. old spenser next, warmed with poetic rage, in ancient tales amused a barbarous age; an age that yet uncultivate and rude, where'er the poet's fancy led, pursued _ through pathless fields, and unfrequented floods, to dens of dragons and enchanted woods. but now the mystic tale, that pleased of yore, can charm an understanding age no more; the long-spun allegories fulsome grow, while the dull moral lies too plain below. we view well-pleased at distance all the sights of arms and palfreys, battles, fields, and fights, and damsels in distress, and courteous knights; but when we look too near, the shades decay, _ and all the pleasing landscape fades away. great cowley then (a mighty genius) wrote, o'errun with wit, and lavish of his thought: his turns too closely on the reader press; he more had pleased us, had he pleased us less. one glittering thought no sooner strikes our eyes with silent wonder, but new wonders rise. as in the milky-way a shining white o'erflows the heavens with one continued light; that not a single star can show his rays, _ whilst jointly all promote the common blaze. pardon, great poet, that i dare to name the unnumbered beauties of thy verse with blame; thy fault is only wit in its excess, but wit like thine in any shape will please. what muse but thine can equal hints inspire, and fit the deep-mouthed pindar to thy lyre; pindar, whom others, in a laboured strain and forced expression, imitate in vain? well-pleased in thee he soars with new delight, _ and plays in more unbounded verse, and takes a nobler flight. blest man! whose spotless life and charming lays employed the tuneful prelate in thy praise: blest man! who now shalt be for ever known in sprat's successful labours and thy own. but milton next, with high and haughty stalks, unfettered in majestic numbers walks; no vulgar hero can his muse engage; nor earth's wide scene confine his hallowed rage. see! see! he upward springs, and towering high, _ spurns the dull province of mortality, shakes heaven's eternal throne with dire alarms, and sets the almighty thunderer in arms. whate'er his pen describes i more than see, whilst every verse arrayed in majesty, bold, and sublime, my whole attention draws, and seems above the critic's nicer laws. how are you struck with terror and delight, when angel with archangel copes in fight! when great messiah's outspread banner shines, _ how does the chariot rattle in his lines! what sounds of brazen wheels, what thunder, scare, and stun the reader with the din of war! with fear my spirits and my blood retire, to see the seraphs sunk in clouds of fire; but when, with eager steps, from hence i rise, and view the first gay scenes of paradise, what tongue, what words of rapture, can express a vision so profuse of pleasantness! oh, had the poet ne'er profaned his pen, _ to varnish o'er the guilt of faithless men, his other works might have deserved applause; but now the language can't support the cause; while the clean current, though serene and bright, betrays a bottom odious to the sight. but now, my muse, a softer strain rehearse, turn every line with art, and smooth thy verse; the courtly waller next commands thy lays: muse, tune thy verse with art to waller's praise. while tender airs and lovely dames inspire _ soft melting thoughts, and propagate desire; so long shall waller's strains our passion move, and sacharissa's beauties kindle love. thy verse, harmonious bard, and flattering song, can make the vanquished great, the coward strong. thy verse can show even cromwell's innocence, and compliment the storms that bore him hence. oh, had thy muse not come an age too soon, but seen great nassau on the british throne, how had his triumphs glittered in thy page, _ and warmed thee to a more exalted rage! what scenes of death and horror had we view'd, and how had boyne's wide current reeked in blood! or, if maria's charms thou wouldst rehearse, in smoother numbers and a softer verse, thy pen had well described her graceful air, and gloriana would have seemed more fair. nor must roscommon pass neglected by, that makes even rules a noble poetry: rules, whose deep sense and heavenly numbers show _ the best of critics, and of poets too. nor, denham, must we e'er forget thy strains, while cooper's hill commands the neighbouring plains. but see where artful dryden next appears, grown old in rhyme, but charming even in years. great dryden next, whose tuneful muse affords the sweetest numbers, and the fittest words. whether in comic sounds or tragic airs she forms her voice, she moves our smiles or tears. if satire or heroic strains she writes, _ her hero pleases and her satire bites. from her no harsh unartful numbers fall, she wears all dresses, and she charms in all. how might we fear our english poetry, that long has flourished, should decay with thee; did not the muses' other hope appear, harmonious congreve, and forbid our fear: congreve! whose fancy's unexhausted store has given already much, and promised more. congreve shall still preserve thy fame alive, _ and dryden's muse shall in his friend survive. i'm tired with rhyming, and would fain give o'er, but justice still demands one labour more: the noble montague remains unnamed, for wit, for humour, and for judgment famed; to dorset he directs his artful muse, in numbers such as dorset's self might use. how negligently graceful he unreins his verse, and writes in loose familiar strains! how nassau's godlike acts adorn his lines, _ and all the hero in full glory shines! we see his army set in just array, and boyne's dyed waves run purple to the sea. nor simois choked with men, and arms, and blood; nor rapid xanthus' celebrated flood, shall longer be the poet's highest themes, though gods and heroes fought promiscuous in their streams. but now, to nassau's secret councils raised, he aids the hero, whom before he praised. i've done at length; and now, dear friend, receive _ the last poor present that my muse can give. i leave the arts of poetry and verse to them that practise them with more success. of greater truths i'll now prepare to tell, and so at once, dear friend and muse, farewell. a letter from italy, to the right honourable charles lord halifax, in the year . salve magna parens frugum saturnia tellus, magna virûm! tibi res antiquæ laudis et artis aggredior, sanctos ausus recludere fontes. virg., geor. ii. while you, my lord, the rural shades admire, and from britannia's public posts retire, nor longer, her ungrateful sons to please, for their advantage sacrifice your ease; me into foreign realms my fate conveys, through nations fruitful of immortal lays, where the soft season and inviting clime conspire to trouble your repose with rhyme. for wheresoe'er i turn my ravished eyes, gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise, _ poetic fields encompass me around and still i seem to tread on classic ground; for here the muse so oft her harp has strung, that not a mountain rears its head unsung, renowned in verse each shady thicket grows, and every stream in heavenly numbers flows. how am i pleased to search the hills and woods for rising springs and celebrated floods! to view the nar, tumultuous in his course, and trace the smooth clitumnus to his source, _ to see the mincio draw his watery store through the long windings of a fruitful shore, and hoary albula's infected tide o'er the warm bed of smoking sulphur glide. fired with a thousand raptures i survey eridanus[ ] through flowery meadows stray, the king of floods! that, rolling o'er the plains, the towering alps of half their moisture drains, and proudly swoln with a whole winter's snows, distributes wealth and plenty where he flows. _ sometimes, misguided by the tuneful throng i look for streams immortalised in song, that lost in silence and oblivion lie, (dumb are their fountains and their channels dry,) yet run for ever by the muse's skill, and in the smooth description murmur still. sometimes to gentle tiber i retire, and the famed river's empty shores admire, that, destitute of strength, derives its course from thrifty urns and an unfruitful source, _ yet sung so often in poetic lays, with scorn the danube and the nile surveys; so high the deathless muse exalts her theme! such was the boyne, a poor inglorious stream, that in hibernian vales obscurely stray'd, and unobserved in wild meanders play'd; till by your lines and nassau's sword renowned, its rising billows through the world resound, where'er the hero's godlike acts can pierce, or where the fame of an immortal verse. _ oh could the muse my ravished breast inspire with warmth like yours, and raise an equal fire, unnumbered beauties in my verse should shine, and virgil's italy should yield to mine! see how the golden groves around me smile, that shun the coast of britain's stormy isle, or when transplanted and preserved with care, curse the cold clime, and starve in northern air. here kindly warmth their mounting juice ferments to nobler tastes, and more exalted scents: _ even the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom, and trodden weeds send out a rich perfume. bear me, some god, to baia's gentle seats, or cover me in umbria's green retreats; where western gales eternally reside, and all the seasons lavish all their pride: blossoms, and fruits, and flowers together rise, and the whole year in gay confusion lies. immortal glories in my mind revive, and in my soul a thousand passions strive, _ when rome's exalted beauties i descry magnificent in piles of ruin lie. an amphitheatre's amazing height here fills my eye with terror and delight, that on its public shows unpeopled rome, and held uncrowded nations in its womb; here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skies; and here the proud triumphal arches rise, where the old romans' deathless acts displayed, their base, degenerate progeny upbraid: _ whole rivers here forsake the fields below, and wondering at their height through airy channels flow. still to new scenes my wandering muse retires, and the dumb show of breathing rocks admires; where the smooth chisel all its force has shown, and softened into flesh the rugged stone. in solemn silence, a majestic band, heroes, and gods, and roman consuls stand; stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown, and emperors in parian marble frown; _ while the bright dames, to whom they humble sued, still show the charms that their proud hearts subdued. fain would i raphæl's godlike art rehearse, and show the immortal labours in my verse, where from the mingled strength of shade and light a new creation rises to my sight, such heavenly figures from his pencil flow, so warm with life his blended colours glow. from theme to theme with secret pleasure toss'd, amidst the soft variety i'm lost: _ here pleasing airs my ravish'd soul confound with circling notes and labyrinths of sound; here domes and temples rise in distant views, and opening palaces invite my muse. how has kind heaven adorned the happy land, and scattered blessings with a wasteful hand! but what avail her unexhausted stores, her blooming mountains and her sunny shores, with all the gifts that heaven and earth impart, the smiles of nature, and the charms of art, _ while proud oppression in her valleys reigns, and tyranny usurps her happy plains? the poor inhabitant beholds in vain the reddening orange and the swelling grain: joyless he sees the growing oils and wines, and in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines: starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curs'd, and in the loaden vineyard dies for thirst. o liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright, _ profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight! eternal pleasures in thy presence reign, and smiling plenty leads thy wanton train; eased of her load, subjection grows more light, and poverty looks cheerful in thy sight; thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay, giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day. thee, goddess, thee, britannia's isle adores; how has she oft exhausted all her stores, how oft in fields of death thy presence sought, nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought! _ on foreign mountains may the sun refine the grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine, with citron groves adorn a distant soil, and the fat olive swell with floods of oil: we envy not the warmer clime, that lies in ten degrees of more indulgent skies, nor at the coarseness of our heaven repine, though o'er our heads the frozen pleiads shine: 'tis liberty that crowns britannia's isle, and makes her barren rocks and her bleak mountains smile. _ others with towering piles may please the sight, and in their proud aspiring domes delight; a nicer touch to the stretched canvas give, or teach their animated rocks to live: 'tis britain's care to watch o'er europe's fate, and hold in balance each contending state, to threaten bold presumptuous kings with war, and answer her afflicted neighbours' prayer. the dane and swede, roused up by fierce alarms, bless the wise conduct of her pious arms: _ soon as her fleets appear, their terrors cease, and all the northern world lies hushed in peace. the ambitious gaul beholds with secret dread her thunder aimed at his aspiring head, and fain her godlike sons would disunite by foreign gold, or by domestic spite; but strives in vain to conquer or divide, whom nassau's arms defend and counsels guide. fired with the name, which i so oft have found the distant climes and different tongues resound, _ i bridle in my struggling muse with pain, that longs to launch into a bolder strain. but i've already troubled you too long, nor dare attempt a more adventurous song. my humble verse demands a softer theme, a painted meadow, or a purling stream; unfit for heroes, whom immortal lays, and lines like virgil's, or like yours, should praise. milton's style imitated, in a translation of a story out of the third Æneid. lost in the gloomy horror of the night, we struck upon the coast where Ætna lies, horrid and waste, its entrails fraught with fire, that now casts out dark fumes and pitchy clouds, vast showers of ashes hovering in the smoke; now belches molten stones and ruddy flame, incensed, or tears up mountains by the roots, or slings a broken rock aloft in air. the bottom works with smothered fire involved in pestilential vapours, stench, and smoke. _ 'tis said, that thunder-struck enceladus groveling beneath the incumbent mountain's weight, lies stretched supine, eternal prey of flames; and, when he heaves against the burning load, reluctant, to invert his broiling limbs, a sudden earthquake shoots through all the isle, and Ætna thunders dreadful under-ground, then pours out smoke in wreathing curls convolved, and shades the sun's bright orb, and blots out day. here in the shelter of the woods we lodged, _ and frighted heard strange sounds and dismal yells, nor saw from whence they came; for all the night a murky storm deep lowering o'er our heads hung imminent, that with impervious gloom opposed itself to cynthia's silver ray, and shaded all beneath. but now the sun with orient beams had chased the dewy night from earth and heaven; all nature stood disclosed: when, looking on the neighbouring woods, we saw the ghastly visage of a man unknown, _ an uncouth feature, meagre, pale, and wild; affliction's foul and terrible dismay sat in his looks, his face, impaired and worn with marks of famine, speaking sore distress; his locks were tangled, and his shaggy beard matted with filth; in all things else a greek. he first advanced in haste; but, when he saw trojans and trojan arms, in mid career stopp'd short, he back recoiled as one surprised: but soon recovering speed he ran, he flew precipitant, and thus with piteous cries _ our ears assailed: 'by heaven's eternal fires, by every god that sits enthroned on high, by this good light, relieve a wretch forlorn, and bear me hence to any distant shore, so i may shun this savage race accursed. 'tis true i fought among the greeks that late with sword and fire o'erturned neptunian troy and laid the labours of the gods in dust; for which, if so the sad offence deserves, _ plunged in the deep, for ever let me lie whelmed under seas; if death must be my doom, let man inflict it, and i die well-pleased.' he ended here, and now profuse to tears in suppliant mood fell prostrate at our feet: we bade him speak from whence and what he was, and how by stress of fortune sunk thus low; anchises too, with friendly aspect mild, gave him his hand, sure pledge of amity; when, thus encouraged, he began his tale. _ 'i'm one,' says he, 'of poor descent; my name is achæmenides, my country greece; ulysses' sad compeer, who, whilst he fled the raging cyclops, left me here behind, disconsolate, forlorn; within the cave he left me, giant polypheme's dark cave; a dungeon wide and horrible, the walls on all sides furred with mouldy damps, and hung with clots of ropy gore, and human limbs, his dire repast: himself of mighty size, _ hoarse in his voice, and in his visage grim, intractable, that riots on the flesh of mortal men, and swills the vital blood. him did i see snatch up with horrid grasp two sprawling greeks, in either hand a man; i saw him when with huge, tempestuous sway he dashed and broke them on the grundsil edge; the pavement swam in blood, the walls around were spattered o'er with brains. he lapp'd the blood, and chewed the tender flesh still warm with life, _ that swelled and heaved itself amidst his teeth as sensible of pain. not less meanwhile our chief, incensed and studious of revenge, plots his destruction, which he thus effects. the giant, gorged with flesh, and wine, and blood, lay stretched at length and snoring in his den, belching raw gobbets from his maw, o'ercharged with purple wine and cruddled gore confused. we gathered round, and to his single eye, the single eye that in his forehead glared _ like a full moon, or a broad burnished shield, a forky staff we dexterously applied, which, in the spacious socket turning round, scooped out the big round jelly from its orb. but let me not thus interpose delays; fly, mortals, fly this cursed, detested race: a hundred of the same stupendous size, a hundred cyclops live among the hills, gigantic brotherhood, that stalk along with horrid strides o'er the high mountains' tops, _ enormous in their gait; i oft have heard their voice and tread, oft seen them as they passed, sculking and cowering down, half dead with fear. thrice has the moon washed all her orb in light, thrice travelled o'er, in her obscure sojourn, the realms of night inglorious, since i've lived amidst these woods, gleaning from thorns and shrubs a wretched sustenance.' as thus he spoke, we saw descending from a neighbouring hill blind polypheme; by weary steps and slow _ the groping giant with a trunk of pine explored his way; around, his woolly flocks attended grazing; to the well-known shore he bent his course, and on the margin stood, a hideous monster, terrible, deformed; full in the midst of his high front there gaped the spacious hollow where his eye-ball rolled, a ghastly orifice: he rinsed the wound, and washed away the strings and clotted blood that caked within; then, stalking through the deep, _ he fords the ocean, while the topmost wave scarce reaches up his middle side; we stood amazed, be sure; a sudden horror chill ran through each nerve, and thrilled in every vein, till, using all the force of winds and oars, we sped away; he heard us in our course, and with his outstretched arms around him groped, but finding nought within his reach, he raised such hideous shouts that all the ocean shook. even italy, though many a league remote, _ in distant echoes answered; Ætna roared, through all its inmost winding caverns roared. roused with the sound, the mighty family of one-eyed brothers hasten to the shore, and gather round the bellowing polypheme, a dire assembly: we with eager haste work every one, and from afar behold a host of giants covering all the shore. so stands a forest tall of mountain oaks advanced to mighty growth: the traveller _ hears from the humble valley where he rides the hollow murmurs of the winds that blow amidst the boughs, and at the distance sees the shady tops of trees unnumbered rise, a stately prospect, waving in the clouds. the campaign, a poem. to his grace the duke of marlborough. rhení pæator et istri. omnis in hoc uno variis discordia cessit ordinibus; læctatur eques, plauditque senator, votaque patricio certant plebeia favori. claud. de laud. stilic. esse aliquam in terris gentem quæ suâ impensâ, suo labore ac periculo bella gerat pro libertate aliorum. nec hoc finitimis, aut propinquæ vicinitatis hominibus, aut terris continenti junctis præstet. maria trajiciat: ne quod toto orbe terrarum injustum imperium sit, et ubique jus, fas, lex, potentissima sint. liv. hist. lib. . while crowds of princes your deserts proclaim, proud in their number to enrol your name; while emperors to you commit their cause, and anna's praises crown the vast applause; accept, great leader, what the muse recites, that in ambitious verse attempts your fights. fired and transported with a theme so new, ten thousand wonders opening to my view shine forth at once; sieges and storms appear, and wars and conquests fill the important year, _ rivers of blood i see, and hills of slain, an iliad rising out of one campaign. the haughty gaul beheld, with towering pride, his ancient bounds enlarged on every side, pirene's lofty barriers were subdued, and in the midst of his wide empire stood; ausonia's states, the victor to restrain, opposed their alps and apennines in vain, nor found themselves, with strength of rocks immured, behind their everlasting hills secured; _ the rising danube its long race began, and half its course through the new conquests ran; amazed and anxious for her sovereign's fates, germania trembled through a hundred states; great leopold himself was seized with fear; he gazed around, but saw no succour near; he gazed, and half abandoned to despair his hopes on heaven, and confidence in prayer. to britain's queen the nations turn their eyes, on her resolves the western world relies, _ confiding still, amidst its dire alarms, in anna's councils and in churchill's arms. thrice happy britain, from the kingdoms rent, to sit the guardian of the continent! that sees her bravest son advanced so high, and flourishing so near her prince's eye; thy favourites grow not up by fortune's sport, or from the crimes or follies of a court; on the firm basis of desert they rise, from long-tried, faith, and friendship's holy ties: _ their sovereign's well-distinguished smiles they share, her ornaments in peace, her strength in war; the nation thanks them with a public voice, by showers of blessings heaven approves their choice; envy itself is dumb, in wonder lost, and factions strive who shall applaud them most. soon as soft vernal breezes warm the sky, britannia's colours in the zephyrs fly; her chief already has his march begun, crossing the provinces himself had won, _ till the moselle, appearing from afar, retards the progress of the moving war. delightful stream, had nature bid her fall in distant climes, far from the perjured gaul; but now a purchase to the sword she lies, her harvests for uncertain owners rise, each vineyard doubtful of its master grows, and to the victor's bowl each vintage flows. the discontented shades of slaughtered hosts, that wandered on her banks, her heroes' ghosts, _ hoped, when they saw britannia's arms appear, the vengeance due to their great deaths was near. our godlike leader, ere the stream he passed, the mighty scheme of all his labours cast, forming the wondrous year within his thought; his bosom glowed with battles yet unfought. the long, laborious march he first surveys, and joins the distant danube to the mæse, between whose floods such pathless forests grow, such mountains rise, so many rivers flow: _ the toil looks lovely in the hero's eyes, and danger serves but to enhance the prize. big with the fate of europe, he renews his dreadful course, and the proud foe pursues: infected by the burning scorpion's heat, the sultry gales round his chafed temples beat, till on the borders of the maine he finds defensive shadows and refreshing winds. our british youth, with inborn freedom bold, unnumbered scenes of servitude behold, _ nations of slaves, with tyranny debased, (their maker's image more than half defaced,) hourly instructed, as they urge their toil, to prize their queen, and love their native soil. still to the rising sun they take their way through clouds of dust, and gain upon the clay; when now the neckar on its friendly coast with cooling streams revives the fainting host, that cheerfully its labours past forgets, the midnight watches, and the noonday heats. _ o'er prostrate towns and palaces they pass, (now covered o'er with weeds and hid in grass,) breathing revenge; whilst anger and disdain fire every breast, and boil in every vein: here shattered walls, like broken rocks, from far rise up in hideous views, the guilt of war, whilst here the vine o'er hills of ruin climbs, industrious to conceal great bourbon's crimes, at length the fame of england's hero drew, eugenio to the glorious interview. _ great souls by instinct to each other turn, demand alliance, and in friendship burn; a sudden friendship, while with stretched-out rays they meet each other, mingling blaze with blaze. polished in courts, and hardened in the field, renowned for conquest, and in council skilled, their courage dwells not in a troubled flood of mounting spirits, and fermenting blood: lodged in the soul, with virtue overruled, inflamed by reason, and by reason cooled, _ in hours of peace content to be unknown, and only in the field of battle shown: to souls like these, in mutual friendship joined, heaven dares intrust the cause of humankind. britannia's graceful sons appear in arms, her harassed troops the hero's presence warms, whilst the high hills and rivers all around with thundering peals of british shouts resound: doubling their speed, they march with fresh delight, eager for glory, and require the fight. _ so the staunch hound the trembling deer pursues, and smells his footsteps in the tainted dews, the tedious track unravelling by degrees: but when the scent comes warm in every breeze, fired at the near approach, he shoots away on his full stretch, and bears upon his prey. the march concludes, the various realms are past, the immortal schellenberg appears at last: like hills the aspiring ramparts rise on high, like valleys at their feet the trenches lie; _ batteries on batteries guard each fatal pass, threatening destruction; rows of hollow brass, tube behind tube, the dreadful entrance keep, whilst in their wombs ten thousand thunders sleep: great churchill owns, charmed with the glorious sight, his march o'erpaid by such a promised fight. the western sun now shot a feeble ray, and faintly scattered the remains of day; evening approached; but, oh! what hosts of foes were never to behold that evening close! _ thickening their ranks, and wedged in firm array, the close-compacted britons win their way: in vain the cannon their thronged war defaced with tracts of death, and laid the battle waste; still pressing forward to the fight, they broke through flames of sulphur, and a night of smoke, till slaughtered legions filled the trench below, and bore their fierce avengers to the foe. high on the works the mingling hosts engage; the battle, kindled into tenfold rage _ with showers of bullets and with storms of fire, burns in full fury; heaps on heaps expire; nations with nations mixed confus'dly die, and lost in one promiscuous carnage lie. how many generous britons meet their doom, new to the field, and heroes in the bloom! the illustrious youths, that left their native shore to march where britons never marched before, (o fatal love of fame! o glorious heat, only destructive to the brave and great!) _ after such toils o'ercome, such dangers past, stretched on bavarian ramparts breathe their last. but hold, my muse, may no complaints appear, nor blot the day with an ungrateful tear: while marlborough lives, britannia's stars dispense a friendly light, and shine in innocence. plunging through seas of blood his fiery steed where'er his friends retire, or foes succeed; those he supports, these drives to sudden flight, and turns the various fortune of the fight. _ forbear, great man, renowned in arms, forbear to brave the thickest terrors of the war, nor hazard thus, confused in crowds of foes, britannia's safety, and the world's repose; let nations, anxious for thy life, abate this scorn of danger and contempt of fate: thou liv'st not for thyself; thy queen demands conquest and peace from thy victorious hands; kingdoms and empires in thy fortune join, and europe's destiny depends on thine. _ at length the long-disputed pass they gain, by crowded armies fortified in vain; the war breaks in, the fierce bavarians yield, and see their camp with british legions filled. so belgian mounds bear on their shattered sides the sea's whole weight, increased with swelling tides; but if the rushing wave a passage finds, enraged by watery moons, and warring winds, the trembling peasant sees his country round covered with tempests, and in oceans drowned. _ the few surviving foes dispersed in flight, (refuse of swords, and gleanings of a fight,) in every rustling wind the victor hear, and marlborough's form in every shadow fear, till the dark cope of night with kind embrace befriends the rout, and covers their disgrace. to donawert, with unresisted force, the gay, victorious army bends its course. the growth of meadows, and the pride of fields, whatever spoils bavaria's summer yields, _ (the danube's great increase,) britannia shares, the food of armies, and support of wars: with magazines of death, destructive balls, and cannons doomed to batter landau's walls, the victor finds each hidden cavern stored, and turns their fury on their guilty lord. deluded prince! how is thy greatness crossed, and all the gaudy dream of empire lost, that proudly set thee on a fancied throne, and made imaginary realms thy own! _ thy troops that now behind the danube join, shall shortly seek for shelter from the rhine, nor find it there: surrounded with alarms, thou hopest the assistance of the gallic arms; the gallic arms in safety shall advance, and crowd thy standards with the power of france, while to exalt thy doom, the aspiring gaul shares thy destruction, and adorns thy fall. unbounded courage and compassion joined, tempering each other in the victor's mind, _ alternately proclaim him good and great, and make the hero and the man complete. long did he strive the obdurate foe to gain by proffered grace, but long he strove in vain; till fired at length, he thinks it vain to spare his rising wrath, and gives a loose to war. in vengeance roused, the soldier fills his hand with sword and fire, and ravages the land, a thousand villages to ashes turns, in crackling flames a thousand harvests burns. _ to the thick woods the woolly flocks retreat, and mixed with bellowing herds confus'dly bleat; their trembling lords the common shade partake, and cries of infants sound in every brake: the listening soldier fixed in sorrow stands, loth to obey his leader's just commands; the leader grieves, by generous pity swayed, to see his just commands so well obeyed. but now the trumpet, terrible from far, in shriller clangors animates the war, _ confederate drums in fuller consort beat, and echoing hills the loud alarm repeat: gallia's proud standards, to bavaria's joined, unfurl their gilded lilies in the wind; the daring prince his blasted hopes renews, and while the thick embattled host he views stretched out in deep array, and dreadful length, his heart dilates, and glories in his strength. the fatal day its mighty course began, that the grieved world had long desired in vain: _ states that their new captivity bemoaned, armies of martyrs that in exile groaned, sighs from the depth of gloomy dungeons heard, and prayers in bitterness of soul preferred, europe's loud cries, that providence assailed, and anna's ardent vows, at length prevailed; the day was come when heaven designed to show his care and conduct of the world below. behold, in awful march and dread array the long-expected squadrons shape their way! _ death, in approaching terrible, imparts an anxious horror to the bravest hearts; yet do their beating breasts demand the strife, and thirst of glory quells the love of life. no vulgar fears can british minds control: heat of revenge and noble pride of soul o'erlook the foe, advantaged by his post, lessen his numbers, and contract his host. though fens and floods possessed the middle space, that unprovoked they would have feared to pass, _ nor fens nor floods can stop britannia's bands, when her proud foe ranged on their borders stands. but, o my muse, what numbers wilt thou find to sing the furious troops in battle joined! methinks i hear the drum's tumultuous sound the victor's shouts and dying groans confound, the dreadful burst of cannon rend the skies, and all the thunder of the battle rise. 'twas then great marlborough's mighty soul was proved, that, in the shock of charging hosts unmoved, _ amidst confusion, horror, and despair, examined all the dreadful scenes of war; in peaceful thought the field of death surveyed, to fainting squadrons sent the timely aid, inspired repulsed battalions to engage, and taught the doubtful battle where to rage. so when an angel by divine command with rising tempests shakes a guilty land, such as of late o'er pale britannia passed,[ ] calm and serene he drives the furious blast; _ and, pleased the almighty's orders to perform, hides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. but see the haughty household-troops advance! the dread of europe, and the pride of france. the war's whole art each private soldier knows, and with a general's love of conquest glows; proudly he marches on, and, void of fear, laughs at the shaking of the british spear: vain insolence! with native freedom brave, the meanest briton scorns the highest slave; _ contempt and fury fire their souls by turns, each nation's glory in each warrior burns, each fights, as in his arm the important day and all the fate of his great monarch lay: a thousand glorious actions, that might claim triumphant laurels, and immortal fame, confused in clouds of glorious actions lie, and troops of heroes undistinguished die. o dormer, how can i behold thy fate, and not the wonders of thy youth relate! _ how can i see the gay, the brave, the young, fall in the cloud of war and lie unsung! in joys of conquest he resigns his breath, and, filled with england's glory, smiles in death. the rout begins, the gallic squadrons run, compelled in crowds to meet the fate they shun; thousands of fiery steeds with wounds transfixed floating in gore, with their dead masters mixed, midst heaps of spears and standards driven around, lie in the danube's bloody whirlpools drowned, _ troops of bold youths, born on the distant soane, or sounding borders of the rapid rhône, or where the seine her flowery fields divides, or where the loire through winding vineyards glides; in heaps the rolling billows sweep away, and into scythian seas their bloated corps convey. from blenheim's towers the gaul, with wild affright, beholds the various havoc of the fight; his waving banners, that so oft had stood, planted in fields of death, and streams of blood, _ so wont the guarded enemy to reach, and rise triumphant in the fatal breach, or pierce the broken foe's remotest lines, the hardy veteran with tears resigns. unfortunate tallard![ ] oh, who can name the pangs of rage, of sorrow, and of shame, that with mixed tumult in thy bosom swelled! when first thou saw'st thy bravest troops repelled, thine only son pierced with a deadly wound, choked in his blood, and gasping on the ground, _ thyself in bondage by the victor kept! the chief, the father, and the captive wept. an english muse is touched with generous woe, and in the unhappy man forgets the foe. greatly distressed! thy loud complaints forbear, blame not the turns of fate, and chance of war; give thy brave foes their due, nor blush to own the fatal field by such great leaders won, the field whence famed eugenio bore away only the second honours of the day. _ with floods of gore that from the vanquished fell, the marshes stagnate, and the rivers swell. mountains of slain lie heaped upon the ground, or 'midst the roarings of the danube drowned; whole captive hosts the conqueror detains in painful bondage and inglorious chains; even those who'scape the fetters and the sword, nor seek the fortunes of a happier lord, their raging king dishonours, to complete marlborough's great work, and finish the defeat. _ from memminghen's high domes, and augsburg's walls, the distant battle drives the insulting gauls; freed by the terror of the victor's name, the rescued states his great protection claim; whilst ulm the approach of her deliverer waits, and longs to open her obsequious gates. the hero's breast still swells with great designs, in every thought the towering genius shines: if to the foe his dreadful course he bends, o'er the wide continent his march extends; _ if sieges in his labouring thoughts are formed, camps are assaulted, and an army stormed; if to the fight his active soul is bent, the fate of europe turns on its event. what distant land, what region, can afford an action worthy his victorious sword? where will he next the flying gaul defeat, to make the series of his toils complete? where the swoln rhine, rushing with all its force, divides the hostile nations in its course, _ while each contracts its bounds, or wider grows, enlarged or straitened as the river flows, on gallia's side a mighty bulwark stands, that all the wide extended plain commands; twice, since the war was kindled, has it tried the victor's rage, and twice has changed its side; as oft whole armies, with the prize o'erjoyed, have the long summer on its walls employed. hither our mighty chief his arms directs, hence future triumphs from the war expects; _ and though the dog-star had its course begun, carries his arms still nearer to the sun: fixed on the glorious action, he forgets the change of seasons, and increase of heats: no toils are painful that can danger show, no climes unlovely that contain a foe. the roving gaul, to his own bounds restrained, learns to encamp within his native land, but soon as the victorious host he spies, from hill to hill, from stream to stream he flies: _ such dire impressions in his heart remain of marlborough's sword, and hochstet's fatal plain: in vain britannia's mighty chief besets their shady coverts, and obscure retreats; they fly the conqueror's approaching fame, that bears the force of armies in his name, austria's young monarch, whose imperial sway sceptres and thrones are destined to obey, whose boasted ancestry so high extends that in the pagan gods his lineage ends, _ comes from afar, in gratitude to own the great supporter of his father's throne; what tides of glory to his bosom ran, clasped in the embraces of the godlike man! how were his eyes with pleasing wonder fixed to see such fire with so much sweetness mixed, such easy greatness, such a graceful port, so turned and finished for the camp or court! achilles thus was formed with every grace, and nireus shone but in the second place; _ thus the great father of almighty rome (divinely flushed with an immortal bloom, that cytherea's fragrant breath bestowed) in all the charms of his bright mother glowed. the royal youth by marlborough's presence charmed, taught by his counsels, by his actions warmed, on landau with redoubled fury falls, discharges all his thunder on its walls, o'er mines and caves of death provokes the fight, and learns to conquer in the hero's sight. _ the british chief, for mighty toils renowned, increased in titles, and with conquests crowned, to belgian coasts his tedious march renews, and the long windings of the rhine pursues, clearing its borders from usurping foes, and blessed by rescued nations as he goes. treves fears no more, freed from its dire alarms; and trærbach feels the terror of his arms, seated on rocks her proud foundations shake, while marlborough presses to the bold attack, _ plants all his batteries, bids his cannon roar, and shows how landau might have fallen before. scared at his near approach, great louis fears vengeance reserved for his declining years, forgets his thirst of universal sway, and scarce can teach his subjects to obey; his arms he finds on vain attempts employed, the ambitious projects for his race destroyed, the work of ages sunk in one campaign, and lives of millions sacrificed in vain. _ such are the effects of anna's royal cares: by her, britannia, great in foreign wars, ranges through nations, wheresoo'er disjoined, without the wonted aid of sea and wind. by her the unfettered ister's states are free, and taste the sweets of english liberty: but who can tell the joys of those that lie beneath the constant influence of her eye! whilst in diffusive showers her bounties fall, like heaven's indulgence, and descend on all, _ secure the happy, succour the distressed, make every subject glad, and a whole people blessed. thus would i fain britannia's wars rehearse, in the smooth records of a faithful verse; that, if such numbers can o'er time prevail, may tell posterity the wondrous tale. when actions, unadorned, are faint and weak, cities and countries must be taught to speak; gods may descend in factions from the skies, and rivers from their oozy beds arise; _ fiction may deck the truth with spurious rays, and round the hero cast a borrowed blaze. marlborough's exploits appear divinely bright, and proudly shine in their own native light; raised of themselves, their genuine charms they boast, and those who paint them truest praise them most. cowley's epitaph on himself. translated by mr addison. from life's superfluous cares enlarged, his debt of human toil discharged, here cowley lies! beneath this shed, to every worldly interest dead; with decent poverty content, his hours of ease not idly spent; to fortune's goods a foe profess'd, and hating wealth by all caress'd. 'tis true he's dead; for oh! how small a spot of earth is now his all: _ oh! wish that earth may lightly lay, and every care be far away; bring flowers; the short-lived roses bring, to life deceased, fit offering: and sweets around the poet strow, whilst yet with life his ashes glow. prologue to the tender husband.[ ] spoken by mr wilks. in the first rise and infancy of farce, when fools were many, and when plays were scarce, the raw, unpractised authors could, with ease, a young and unexperienced audience please: no single character had e'er been shown, but the whole herd of fops was all their own; rich in originals, they set to view, in every piece, a coxcomb that was new. but now our british theatre can boast drolls of all kinds, a vast, unthinking host! _ fruitful of folly and of vice, it shows cuckolds, and cits, and bawds, and pimps, and beaux; rough country knights are found of every shire; of every fashion gentle fops appear; and punks of different characters we meet, as frequent on the stage as in the pit. our modern wits are forced to pick and cull, and here and there by chance glean up a fool: long ere they find the necessary spark, they search the town, and beat about the park; _ to all his most frequented haunts resort, oft dog him to the ring, and oft to court, as love of pleasure or of place invites; and sometimes catch him taking snuff at white's. howe'er, to do you right, the present age breeds very hopeful monsters for the stage; that scorn the paths their dull forefathers trod, and wont be blockheads in the common road. do but survey this crowded house to-night:-- here's still encouragement for those that write. _ our author, to divert his friends to-day, stocks with variety of fools his play; and that there may be something gay and new, two ladies-errant has exposed to view: the first a damsel, travelled in romance; the t'other more refined; she comes from france: rescue, like courteous knights, the nymph from danger; and kindly treat, like well-bred men, the stranger. epilogue to the british enchanters.[ ] when orpheus tuned his lyre with pleasing woe, rivers forgot to run, and winds to blow, while listening forests covered as he played, the soft musician in a moving shade. that this night's strains the same success may find, the force of magic is to music joined; where sounding strings and artful voices fail, the charming rod and muttered spells prevail. let sage urganda wave the circling wand on barren mountains, or a waste of sand, _ the desert smiles; the woods begin to grow, the birds to warble, and the springs to flow. the same dull sights in the same landscape mixed, scenes of still life, and points for ever fixed, a tedious pleasure on the mind bestow, and pall the sense with one continued show; but as our two magicians try their skill, the vision varies, though the place stands still, while the same spot its gaudy form renews, shifting the prospect to a thousand views. _ thus (without unity of place transgressed) the enchanter turns the critic to a jest. but howsoe'er, to please your wandering eyes, bright objects disappear and brighter rise: there's none can make amends for lost delight, while from that circle we divert your sight. prologue to smith's[ ] phÆdra and hippolitus. spoken by mr wilks. long has a race of heroes fill'd the stage, that rant by note, and through the gamut rage; in songs and airs express their martial fire, combat in trills, and in a fugue expire: while, lull'd by sound, and undisturb'd by wit, calm and serene you indolently sit, and, from the dull fatigue of thinking free, hear the facetious fiddle's repartee: our home-spun authors must forsake the field, and shakspeare to the soft scarletti yield. _ to your new taste the poet of this day was by a friend advised to form his play. had valentini, musically coy, shunn'd phædra's arms, and scorn'd the proffer'd joy, it had not moved your wonder to have seen an eunuch fly from an enamour'd queen: how would it please, should she in english speak, and could hippolitus reply in greek! but he, a stranger to your modish way, by your old rules must stand or fall to-day, _ and hopes you will your foreign taste command, to bear, for once, with what you understand. horace.-ode iii., book iii. augustus had a design to rebuild troy, and make it the metropolis of the roman empire, having closeted several senators on the project: horace is supposed to have written the following ode on this occasion. the man resolved, and steady to his trust, inflexible to ill, and obstinately just, may the rude rabble's insolence despise, their senseless clamours and tumultuous cries; the tyrant's fierceness he beguiles, and the stern brow, and the harsh voice defies, and with superior greatness smiles. not the rough whirlwind, that deforms adria's black gulf, and vexes it with storms, the stubborn virtue of his soul can move; _ not the red arm of angry jove, that flings the thunder from the sky, and gives it rage to roar, and strength to fly. should the whole frame of nature round him break, in ruin and confusion hurled, he, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack, and stand secure amidst a falling world. such were the godlike arts that led bright pollux to the blest abodes; such did for great alcides plead, _ and gained a place among the gods; where now augustus, mixed with heroes, lies, and to his lips the nectar bowl applies: his ruddy lips the purple tincture show, and with immortal strains divinely glow. by arts like these did young lyæus [ ] rise: his tigers drew him to the skies, wild from the desert and unbroke: in vain they foamed, in vain they stared, in vain their eyes with fury glared; _ he tamed them to the lash, and bent them to the yoke. such were the paths that rome's great founder trod, when in a whirlwind snatched on high, he shook off dull mortality, and lost the monarch in the god. bright juno then her awful silence broke, and thus the assembled deities bespoke. 'troy,' says the goddess, 'perjured troy has felt the dire effects of her proud tyrant's guilt; the towering pile, and soft abodes, _ walled by the hand of servile gods, now spreads its ruins all around, and lies inglorious on the ground. an umpire, partial and unjust, and a lewd woman's impious lust, lay heavy on her head, and sunk her to the dust. since false laomedon's tyrannic sway, that durst defraud the immortals of their pay, her guardian gods renounced their patronage, nor would the fierce invading foe repel; _ to my resentment, and minerva's rage, the guilty king and the whole people fell. and now the long protracted wars are o'er, the soft adulterer shines no more; no more does hector's force the trojans shield, that drove whole armies back, and singly cleared the field. my vengeance sated, i at length resign to mars his offspring of the trojan line: advanced to godhead let him rise, and take his station in the skies; _ there entertain his ravished sight with scenes of glory, fields of light; quaff with the gods immortal wine, and see adoring nations crowd his shrine: the thin remains of troy's afflicted host, in distant realms may seats unenvied find, and flourish on a foreign coast; but far be rome from troy disjoined, removed by seas from the disastrous shore; may endless billows rise between, and storms unnumbered roar. _ still let the cursed, detested place, where priam lies, and priam's faithless race, be cover'd o'er with weeds, and hid in grass. there let the wanton flocks unguarded stray; or, while the lonely shepherd sings, amidst the mighty ruins play, and frisk upon the tombs of kings. may tigers there, and all the savage kind, sad, solitary haunts and silent deserts find; in gloomy vaults, and nooks of palaces, _ may the unmolested lioness her brinded whelps securely lay, or couched, in dreadful slumbers waste the day. while troy in heaps of ruins lies, rome and the roman capitol shall rise; the illustrious exiles unconfined shall triumph far and near, and rule mankind. in vain the sea's intruding tide europe from afric shall divide, and part the severed world in two: _ through afric's sands their triumphs they shall spread, and the long train of victories pursue to nile's yet undiscovered head. riches the hardy soldier shall despise, and look on gold with undesiring eyes, nor the disbowelled earth explore in search of the forbidden ore; those glittering ills concealed within the mine, shall lie untouched, and innocently shine. to the last bounds that nature sets, _ the piercing colds and sultry heats, the godlike race shall spread their arms; now fill the polar circle with alarms, till storms and tempests their pursuits confine; now sweat for conquest underneath the line. this only law the victor shall restrain, on these conditions shall he reign; if none his guilty hand employ to build again a second troy, if none the rash design pursue, _ nor tempt the vengeance of the gods anew. a curse there cleaves to the devoted place, that shall the new foundations raze: greece shall in mutual leagues conspire to storm the rising town with fire, and at their armies' head myself will show what juno, urged to all her rage, can do. thrice should apollo's self the city raise, and line it round with walls of brass, thrice should my favourite greeks his works confound, _ and hew the shining fabric to the ground; thrice should her captive dames to greece return, and their dead sons and slaughtered husbands mourn.' but hold, my muse, forbear thy towering flight, nor bring the secrets of the gods to light: in vain would thy presumptuous verse the immortal rhetoric rehearse; the mighty strains, in lyric numbers bound, forget their majesty, and lose their sound. the vestal. from ovid de fastis, lib. iii. el. . blanda quies victis furtim subrepit ocellis, &c. as the fair vestal to the fountain came, (let none be startled at a vestal's name) tired with the walk, she laid her down to rest, and to the winds exposed her glowing breast, to take the freshness of the morning-air, and gather'd in a knot her flowing hair; while thus she rested, on her arm reclined, the hoary willows waving with the wind, and feather'd choirs that warbled in the shade, and purling streams that through the meadow stray'd, _ in drowsy murmurs lull'd the gentle maid. the god of war beheld the virgin lie, the god beheld her with a lover's eye; and by so tempting an occasion press'd, the beauteous maid, whom he beheld, possess'd: conceiving as she slept, her fruitful womb swell'd with the founder of immortal rome. ovid's metamorphoses. book ii. the story of phÆton. the sun's bright palace, on high columns raised, with burnished gold and flaming jewels blazed; the folding gates diffused a silver light, and with a milder gleam refreshed the sight; of polished ivory was the covering wrought: the matter vied not with the sculptor's thought, for in the portal was displayed on high (the work of vulcan) a fictitious sky; a waving sea the inferior earth embraced, and gods and goddesses the waters graced. _ Ægeon here a mighty whale bestrode; triton, and proteus, (the deceiving god,) with doris here were carved, and all her train, some loosely swimming in the figured main, while some on rocks their dropping hair divide, and some on fishes through the waters glide: though various features did the sisters grace, a sister's likeness was in every face. on earth a different landscape courts the eyes, men, towns, and beasts, in distant prospects rise, _ and nymphs, and streams, and woods, and rural deities. o'er all, the heaven's refulgent image shines; on either gate were six engraven signs. here phaëton, still gaining on the ascent, to his suspected father's palace went, till, pressing forward through the bright ahode, he saw at distance the illustrious god: he saw at distance, or the dazzling light had flashed too strongly on his aching sight. the god sits high, exalted on a throne _ of blazing gems, with purple garments on: the hours, in order ranged on either hand, and days, and months, and years, and ages, stand. here spring appears with flowery chaplets bound; here summer in her wheaten garland crowned; here autumn the rich trodden grapes besmear; and hoary winter shivers in the rear. phoebus beheld the youth from off his throne; that eye, which looks on all, was fixed on one. he saw the boy's confusion in his face, _ surprised at all the wonders of the place; and cries aloud, 'what wants my son? for know my son thou art, and i must call thee so.' 'light of the world,' the trembling youth replies, 'illustrious parent! since you don't despise the parent's name, some certain token give, that i may clymene's proud boast believe, nor longer under false reproaches grieve.' the tender sire was touched with what he said. and flung the blaze of glories from his head, _ and bid the youth advance: 'my son,' said he, 'come to thy father's arms! for clymene has told thee true; a parent's name i own, and deem thee worthy to be called my son. as a sure proof, make some request, and i, whate'er it be, with that request comply; by styx i swear, whose waves are hid in night, and roll impervious to my piercing sight.' the youth transported, asks, without delay, to guide the sun's bright chariot for a day. _ the god repented of the oath he took, for anguish thrice his radiant head he shook; 'my son,' says he, 'some other proof require, rash was my promise, rash is thy desire. i'd fain deny this wish which thou hast made, or, what i can't deny, would fain dissuade. too vast and hazardous the task appears, nor suited to thy strength, nor to thy years. thy lot is mortal, but thy wishes fly beyond the province of mortality: _ there is not one of all the gods that dares (however skilled in other great affairs) to mount the burning axle-tree, but i; not jove himself, the ruler of the sky, that hurls the three-forked thunder from above, dares try his strength; yet who so strong as jove? the steeds climb up the first ascent with pain: and when the middle firmament they gain, if downward from the heavens my head i bow, and see the earth and ocean hang below; _ even i am seized with horror and affright, and my own heart misgives me at the sight. a mighty downfal steeps the evening stage, and steady reins must curb the horses' rage. tethys herself has feared to see me driven down headlong from the precipice of heaven. besides, consider what impetuous force turns stars and planets in a different course: i steer against their motions; nor am i born back by all the current of the sky. _ but how could you resist the orbs that roll in adverse whirls, and stem the rapid pole? but you perhaps may hope for pleasing woods, and stately domes, and cities filled with gods; while through a thousand snares your progress lies, where forms of starry monsters stock the skies: for, should you hit the doubtful way aright, the bull with stooping horns stands opposite; next him the bright hæmonian bow is strung; and next, the lion's grinning visage hung: _ the scorpion's claws here clasp a wide extent, and here the crab's in lesser clasps are bent. nor would you find it easy to compose the mettled steeds, when from their nostrils flows the scorching fire, that in their entrails glows. even i their headstrong fury scarce restrain, when they grow warm and restive to the rein. let not my son a fatal gift require, but, oh! in time recall your rash desire; you ask a gift that may your parent tell, _ let these my fears your parentage reveal; and learn a father from a father's care: look on my face; or if my heart lay bare, could you but look, you'd read the father there. choose out a gift from seas, or earth, or skies, for open to your wish all nature lies, only decline this one unequal task, for 'tis a mischief, not a gift you ask; you ask a real mischief, phaëton: nay, hang not thus about my neck, my son: _ i grant your wish, and styx has heard my voice, choose what you will, but make a wiser choice.' thus did the god the unwary youth advise; but he still longs to travel through the skies, when the fond father (for in vain he pleads) at length to the vulcanian chariot leads. a golden axle did the work uphold, gold was the beam, the wheels were orbed with gold. the spokes in rows of silver pleased the sight, the seat with party-coloured gems was bright; _ apollo shined amid the glare of light. the youth with secret joy the work surveys; when now the morn disclosed her purple rays; the stars were fled; for lucifer had chased the stars away, and fled himself at last. soon as the father saw the rosy morn, and the moon shining with a blunter horn, he bid the nimble hours without delay bring forth the steeds; the nimble hours obey: from their full racks the generous steeds retire, _ dropping ambrosial foams and snorting fire. still anxious for his son, the god of day, to make him proof against the burning ray, his temples with celestial ointment wet, of sovereign virtue to repel the heat; then fixed the beaming circle on his head, and fetched a deep, foreboding sigh, and said, 'take this at least, this last advice, my son: keep a stiff rein, and move but gently on: the coursers of themselves will run too fast, _ your art must be to moderate their haste. drive them not on directly through the skies, but where the zodiac's winding circle lies, along the midmost zone; but sally forth nor to the distant south, nor stormy north. the horses' hoofs a beaten track will show, but neither mount too high nor sink too low, that no new fires or heaven or earth infest; keep the mid-way, the middle way is best. nor, where in radiant folds the serpent twines, _ direct your course, nor where the altar shines. shun both extremes; the rest let fortune guide, and better for thee than thyself provide! see, while i speak the shades disperse away, aurora gives the promise of a day; i'm called, nor can i make a longer stay. snatch up the reins; or still the attempt forsake, and not my chariot, but my counsel take, while yet securely on the earth you stand; nor touch the horses with too rash a hand. _ let me alone to light the world, while you enjoy those beams which you may safely view.' he spoke in vain: the youth with active heat and sprightly vigour vaults into the seat; and joys to hold the reins, and fondly gives those thanks his father with remorse receives. meanwhile the restless horses neighed aloud, breathing out fire, and pawing where they stood. tethys, not knowing what had passed, gave way, and all the waste of heaven before them lay. _ they spring together out, and swiftly bear the flying youth through clouds and yielding air; with wingy speed outstrip the eastern wind, and leave the breezes of the morn behind. the youth was light, nor could he fill the seat, or poise the chariot with its wonted weight: but as at sea the unballast vessel rides, cast to and fro, the sport of winds and tides; so in the bounding chariot tossed on high, the youth is hurried headlong through the sky. _ soon as the steeds perceive it, they forsake their stated course, and leave the beaten track. the youth was in a maze, nor did he know which way to turn the reins, or where to go; nor would the horses, had he known, obey. then the seven stars first felt apollo's ray and wished to dip in the forbidden sea. the folded serpent next the frozen pole, stiff and benumbed before, began to roll, and raged with inward heat, and threatened war, _ and shot a redder light from every star; nay, and 'tis said, bootes, too, that fain thou wouldst have fled, though cumbered with thy wain. the unhappy youth then, bending down his head, saw earth and ocean far beneath him spread: his colour changed, he startled at the sight, and his eyes darkened by too great a light. now could he wish the fiery steeds untried, his birth obscure, and his request denied: now would he merops for his father own, _ and quit his boasted kindred to the sun. so fares the pilot, when his ship is tossed in troubled seas, and all its steerage lost, he gives her to the winds, and in despair seeks his last refuge in the gods and prayer. what could he do? his eyes, if backward cast, find a long path he had already passed; if forward, still a longer path they find: both he compares, and measures in his mind; and sometimes casts an eye upon the east, _ and sometimes looks on the forbidden west. the horses' names he knew not in the fright: nor would he loose the reins, nor could he hold them tight. now all the horrors of the heavens he spies, and monstrous shadows of prodigious size, that, decked with stars, lie scattered o'er the skies. there is a place above, where scorpio, bent in tail and arms, surrounds a vast extent; in a wide circuit of the heavens he shines, and fills the space of two celestial signs. _ soon as the youth beheld him, vexed with heat, brandish his sting, and in his poison sweat, half dead with sudden fear he dropped the reins; the horses felt them loose upon their manes, and, flying out through all the plains above, ran uncontrolled where'er their fury drove; rushed on the stars, and through a pathless way of unknown regions hurried on the day. and now above, and now below they flew, and near the earth the burning chariot drew. _ the clouds disperse in fumes, the wondering moon beholds her brother's steeds beneath her own; the highlands smoke, cleft by the piercing rays, or, clad with woods, in their own fuel blaze. next o'er the plains, where ripened harvests grow, the running conflagration spreads below. but these are trivial ills; whole cities burn, and peopled kingdoms into ashes turn. the mountains kindle as the car draws near, athos and tmolus red with fires appear; _ oeagrian hæmus (then a single name) and virgin helicon increase the flame; taurus and oete glare amid the sky, and ida, spite of all her fountains, dry. eryx, and othrys, and cithgeron, glow; and rhodope, no longer clothed in snow; high pindus, mimas, and parnassus sweat, and Ætna rages with redoubled heat. even scythia, through her hoary regions warmed, in vain with all her native frost was armed. _ covered with flames, the towering apennine, and caucasus, and proud olympus, shine; and, where the long extended alps aspire, now stands a huge, continued range of fire. the astonished youth, where'er his eyes could turn, beheld the universe around him burn: the world was in a blaze; nor could he bear the sultry vapours and the scorching air, which from below as from a furnace flowed, and now the axle-tree beneath him glowed: _ lost in the whirling clouds, that round him broke, and white with ashes, hovering in the smoke, he flew where'er the horses drove, nor knew whither the horses drove, or where he flew. 'twas then, they say, the swarthy moor begun to change his hue, and blacken in the sun. then libya first, of all her moisture drained, became a barren waste, a wild of sand. the water-nymphs lament their empty urns, boeotia, robbed of silver dirce, mourns; _ corinth, pyrene's wasted spring bewails, and argos grieves whilst aniymone fails. the floods are drained from every distant coast, even tanaïs, though fixed in ice, was lost. enraged caicus and lycormas roar, and xanthus, fated to be burned once more. the famed meeander, that unwearied strays through mazy windings, smokes in every maze. from his loved babylon euphrates flies; the big-swoln ganges and the danube rise _ in thickening fumes, and darken half the skies. in flames ismenos and the phasis rolled, and tagus floating in his melted gold. the swans, that on cayster often tried their tuneful songs, now sung their last, and died. the frighted nile ran off, and under-ground concealed his head, nor can it yet be found: his seven divided currents all are dry, and where they rolled seven gaping trenches lie. no more the rhine or rhone their course maintain, _ nor tiber, of his promised empire vain. the ground, deep cleft, admits the dazzling ray, and startles pluto with the flash of day. the seas shrink in, and to the sight disclose wide, naked plains, where once their billows rose; their rocks are all discovered, and increase the number of the scattered cyclades. the fish in shoals about the bottom creep, nor longer dares the crooked dolphin leap; gasping for breath, the unshapen phocæ die, _ and on the boiling wave extended lie. nereus, and doris with her virgin train, seek out the last recesses of the main; beneath unfathomable depths they faint, and secret in their gloomy regions pant, stern neptune thrice above the waves upheld his face, and thrice was by the flames repelled. the earth at length, on every side embraced with scalding seas, that floated round her waist, when now she felt the springs and rivers come, _ and crowd within the hollow of her womb. uplifted to the heavens her blasted head, and clapped her hands upon her brows, and said; (but first, impatient of the sultry heat, sunk deeper down, and sought a cooler seat:) 'if you, great king of gods, my death approve, and i deserve it, let me die by jove; if i must perish by the force of fire, let me transfixed with thunderbolts expire. see, whilst i speak, my breath the vapours choke, _ (for now her face lay wrapt in clouds of smoke,) see my singed hair, behold my faded eye and withered face, where heaps of cinders lie! and does the plough for this my body tear? this the reward for all the fruits i bear, tortured with rakes, and harassed all the year? that herbs for cattle daily i renew, and food for man, and frankincense for you? but grant me guilty; what has neptune done? why are his waters boiling in the sun? _ the wavy empire, which by lot was given, why does it waste, and further shrink from heaven? if i nor lie your pity can provoke, see your own heavens, the heavens begin to smoke! should once the sparkles catch those bright abodes, destruction seizes on the heavens and gods; atlas becomes unequal to his freight, and almost faints beneath the glowing weight. if heaven, and earth, and sea together burn, all must again into their chaos turn. _ apply some speedy cure, prevent our fate, and succour nature, e'er it be too late.' she ceased; for, choked with vapours round her spread, down to the deepest shades she sunk her head. jove called to witness every power above, and even the god whose son the chariot drove, that what he acts he is compelled to do, or universal ruin must ensue. straight he ascends the high ethereal throne, from whence he used to dart his thunder down, _ from whence his showers and storms he used to pour, but now could meet with neither storm nor shower. then aiming at the youth, with lifted hand, full at his head he hurled the forky brand, in dreadful thunderings. thus the almighty sire suppressed the raging of the fires with fire. at once from life and from the chariot driven, the ambitious boy fell thunder-struck from heaven. the horses started with a sudden bound, and flung the reins and chariot to the ground: _ the studded harness from their necks they broke, here fell a wheel, and here a silver spoke, here were the beam and axle torn away; and, scattered o'er the earth, the shining fragments lay. the breathless phaëton, with flaming hair, shot from the chariot, like a falling star, that in a summer's evening from the top of heaven drops down, or seems at least to drop; till on the po his blasted corpse was hurled, far from his country, in the western world. _ phÆton's sisters transformed into trees. the latian nymphs came round him, and amazed on the dead youth, transfixed with thunder, gazed; and, whilst yet smoking from the bolt he lay, his shattered body to a tomb convey; and o'er the tomb an epitaph devise: 'here he who drove the sun's bright chariot lies; his father's fiery steeds he could not guide, but in the glorious enterprise he died.' apollo hid his face, and pined for grief, and, if the story may deserve belief, _ the space of one whole day is said to run, from morn to wonted even, without a sun: the burning ruins, with a fainter ray, supply the sun, and counterfeit a day, a day that still did nature's face disclose: this comfort from the mighty mischief rose. but clymene, enraged with grief, laments, and, as her grief inspires, her passion vents: wild for her son, and frantic in her woes, with hair dishevelled, round the world she goes, _ to seek where'er his body might be cast; till, on the borders of the po, at last the name inscribed on the new tomb appears: the dear, dear name she bathes in flowing tears, hangs o'er the tomb, unable to depart, and hugs the marble to her throbbing heart. her daughters too lament, and sigh, and mourn, (a fruitless tribute to their brother's urn,) and beat their naked bosoms, and complain, and call aloud for phaëton in vain: _ all the long night their mournful watch they keep, and all the day stand round the tomb, and weep. four times revolving the full moon returned; so long the mother and the daughters mourned: when now the eldest, phaëthusa, strove to rest her weary limbs, but could not move; lampetia would have helped her, but she found herself withheld, and rooted to the ground: a third in wild affliction, as she grieves, would rend her hair, but fills her hands with leaves; _ one sees her thighs transformed, another views her arms shot out, and branching into boughs. and now their legs and breasts and bodies stood crusted with bark, and hardening into wood; but still above were female heads displayed, and mouths, that called the mother to their aid. what could, alas! the weeping mother do? from this to that with eager haste she flew, and kissed her sprouting daughters as they grew. she tears the bark that to each body cleaves, _ and from their verdant fingers strips the leaves: the blood came trickling, where she tore away the leaves and bark: the maids were heard to say, 'forbear, mistaken parent, oh! forbear; a wounded daughter in each tree you tear; farewell for ever.' here the bark increased, closed on their faces, and their words suppressed. the new-made trees in tears of amber run, which, hardened into value by the sun, distil for ever on the streams below: _ the limpid streams their radiant treasure show, mixed in the sand; whence the rich drops conveyed, shine in the dress of the bright latian maid. the transformation of cycnus into a swan. cycnus beheld the nymphs transformed, allied to their dead brother on the mortal side, in friendship and affection nearer bound; he left the cities and the realms he owned, through pathless fields and lonely shores to range, and woods, made thicker by the sisters' change. whilst here, within the dismal gloom, alone, the melancholy monarch made his moan, his voice was lessened, as he tried to speak, and issued through a long extended neck; _ his hair transforms to down, his fingers mee in skinny films, and shape his oary feet; from both his sides the wings and feathers break; and from his mouth proceeds a blunted beak: all cycnus now into a swan was turned, who, still remembering how his kinsman burned, to solitary pools and lakes retires, and loves the waters as opposed to fires. meanwhile apollo, in a gloomy shade (the native lustre of his brows decayed) _ indulging sorrow, sickens at the sight of his own sunshine, and abhors the light: the hidden griefs, that in his bosom rise, sadden his looks, and overcast his eyes, as when some dusky orb obstructs his ray, and sullies in a dim eclipse the day. now secretly with inward griefs he pined, now warm resentments to his grief he joined, and now renounced his office to mankind. 'e'er since the birth of time,' said he, 'i've borne _ a long, ungrateful toil without return; let now some other manage, if he dare, the fiery steeds, and mount the burning car; or, if none else, let jove his fortune try, and learn to lay his murdering thunder by; then will he own, perhaps, but own too late, my son deserved not so severe a fate.' the gods stand round him, as he mourns, and pray he would resume the conduct of the day, nor let the world be lost in endless night: _ jove too himself descending from his height, excuses what had happened, and entreats, majestically mixing prayers and threats. prevailed upon, at length, again he took the harnessed steeds, that still with horror shook, and plies them with the lash, and whips them on, and, as he whips, upbraids them with his son. the story of calisto. the day was settled in its course; and jove walked the wide circuit of the heavens above, to search if any cracks or flaws were made; but all was safe: the earth he then surveyed, and cast an eye on every different coast, and every land; but on arcadia most. her fields he clothed, and cheered her blasted face with running fountains, and with springing grass. no tracks of heaven's destructive fire remain, the fields and woods revive, and nature smiles again. _ but as the god walked to and fro the earth, and raised the plants, and gave the spring its birth, by chance a fair arcadian nymph he viewed, and felt the lovely charmer in his blood. the nymph nor spun, nor dressed with artful pride; her vest was gathered up, her hair was tied; now in her hand a slender spear she bore, now a light quiver on her shoulders wore; to chaste diana from her youth inclined, the sprightly warriors of the wood she joined. _ diana too the gentle huntress loved, nor was there one of all the nymphs that roved o'er mænalus, amid the maiden throng, more favoured once; but favour lasts not long. the sun now shone in all its strength, and drove the heated virgin panting to a grove; the grove around a grateful shadow cast: she dropped her arrows, and her bow unbraced; she flung herself on the cool, grassy bed; and on the painted quiver raised her head. _ jove saw the charming huntress unprepared, stretched on the verdant turf, without a guard. 'here i am safe,' he cries, 'from juno's eye; or should my jealous queen the theft descry, yet would i venture on a theft like this, and stand her rage for such, for such a bliss!' diana's shape and habit straight he took, softened his brows, and smoothed his awful look, and mildly in a female accent spoke. 'how fares my girl? how went the morning chase?' _ to whom the virgin, starting from the grass, 'all hail, bright deity, whom i prefer to jove himself, though jove himself were here.' the god was nearer than she thought, and heard, well-pleased, himself before himself preferr'd. he then salutes her with a warm embrace, and, ere she half had told the morning chase, with love inflamed, and eager on his bliss, smothered her words, and stopped her with a kiss; his kisses with unwonted ardour glow'd, _ nor could diana's shape conceal the god. the virgin did whate'er a virgin could; (sure juno must have pardoned, had she view'd;) with all her might against his force she strove; but how can mortal maids contend with jove! possessed at length of what his heart desired, back to his heavens the exulting god retired. the lovely huntress, rising from the grass, with downcast eyes, and with a blushing face by shame confounded, and by fear dismay'd, _ flew from the covert of the guilty shade, and almost, in the tumult of her mind, left her forgotten bow and shafts behind. but now diana, with a sprightly train of quivered virgins, bounding over the plain, called to the nymph; the nymph began to fear a second fraud, a jove disguised in her; but, when she saw the sister nymphs, suppress'd her rising fears, and mingled with the rest. how in the look does conscious guilt appear! _ slowly she moved, and loitered in the rear; nor slightly tripped, nor by the goddess ran, as once she used, the foremost of the train. her looks were flushed, and sullen was her mien, that sure the virgin goddess (had she been aught but a virgin) must the guilt have seen. 'tis said the nymphs saw all, and guessed aright: and now the moon had nine times lost her light, when dian, fainting in the mid-day beams, found a cool covert, and refreshing streams _ that in soft murmurs through the forest flow'd, and a smooth bed of shining gravel show'd. a covert so obscure, and streams so clear, the goddess praised: 'and now no spies are near, let's strip, my gentle maids, and wash,' she cries. pleased with the motion, every maid complies; only the blushing huntress stood confused, and formed delays, and her delays excused; in vain excused; her fellows round her press'd, and the reluctant nymph by force undress'd. _ the naked huntress all her shame reveal'd, in vain her hands the pregnant womb conceal'd; 'begone!' the goddess cries with stern disdain, 'begone! nor dare the hallowed stream to stain:' she fled, for ever banished from the train. this juno heard, who long had watched her time to punish the detested rival's crime: the time was come; for, to enrage her more, a lovely boy the teeming rival bore. the goddess cast a furious look, and cried, _ 'it is enough! i'm fully satisfied! this boy shall stand a living mark, to prove my husband's baseness, and the strumpet's love: but vengeance shall awake: those guilty charms, that drew the thunderer from juno's arms, no longer shall their wonted force retain, nor please the god, nor make the mortal vain.' this said, her hand within her hair she wound, swung her to earth, and dragged her on the ground. the prostrate wretch lifts up her arms in prayer; _ her arms grow shaggy, and deformed with hair, her nails are sharpened into pointed claws, her hands bear half her weight, and turn to paws; her lips, that once could tempt a god, begin to grow distorted in an ugly grin. and, lest the supplicating brute might reach the ears of jove, she was deprived of speech: her surly voice through a hoarse passage came in savage sounds: her mind was still the same. the furry monster fixed her eyes above, _ and heaved her new unwieldy paws to jove, and begged his aid with inward groans; and though she could not call him false, she thought him so. how did she fear to lodge in woods alone, and haunt the fields and meadows once her own! how often would the deep-mouthed dogs pursue, whilst from her hounds the frighted huntress flew! how did she fear her fellow-brutes, and shun the shaggy bear, though now herself was one! how from the sight of rugged wolves retire, _ although the grim lycaon was her sire! but now her son had fifteen summers told, fierce at the chase, and in the forest bold; when, as he beat the woods in quest of prey, he chanced to rouse his mother where she lay. she knew her son, and kept him in her sight, and fondly gazed: the boy was in a fright, and aimed a pointed arrow at her breast, and would have slain his mother in the beast; but jove forbade, and snatched them through the air _ in whirlwinds up to heaven, and fixed them there: where the new constellations nightly rise, and add a lustre to the northern skies. when juno saw the rival in her height, spangled with stars, and circled round with light, she sought old ocean in his deep abodes, and tethys; both revered among the gods. they ask what brings her there: 'ne'er ask,' says she, 'what brings me here, heaven is no place for me. you'll see, when night has covered all things o'er, _ jove's starry bastard and triumphant whore usurp the heavens; you 'll see them proudly roll in their new orbs, and brighten all the pole. and who shall now on juno's altars wait, when those she hates grow greater by her hate? i on the nymph a brutal form impress'd, jove to a goddess has transformed the beast; this, this was all my weak revenge could do: but let the god his chaste amours pursue, and, as he acted after io's rape, _ restore the adulteress to her former shape. then may he cast his juno off, and lead the great lycaon's offspring to his bed. but you, ye venerable powers, be kind, and, if my wrongs a due resentment find, receive not in your waves their setting beams, nor let the glaring strumpet taint your streams.' the goddess ended, and her wish was given. back she returned in triumph up to heaven; her gaudy peacocks drew her through the skies, _ their tails were spotted with a thousand eyes; the eyes of argus on their tails were ranged, at the same time the raven's colour changed. the story of coronis, and birth of Æsculapius. the raven once in snowy plumes was dress'd, white as the whitest dove's unsullied breast, fair as the guardian of the capitol, soft as the swan; a large and lovely fowl; his tongue, his prating tongue, had changed him quite to sooty blackness from the purest white. the story of his change shall here be told: in thessaly there lived a nymph of old, coronis named; a peerless maid she shined, confessed the fairest of the fairer kind. _ apollo loved her, till her guilt he knew, while true she was, or whilst he thought her true. but his own bird, the raven, chanced to find the false one with a secret rival joined. coronis begged him to suppress the tale, but could not with repeated prayers prevail. his milk-white pinions to the god he plied; the busy daw flew with him, side by side, and by a thousand teasing questions drew the important secret from him as they flew. _ the daw gave honest counsel, though despised, and, tedious in her tattle, thus advised: 'stay, silly bird, the ill-natured task refuse, nor be the bearer of unwelcome news. be warned by my example: you discern what now i am, and what i was shall learn. my foolish honesty was all my crime; then hear my story. once upon a time, the two-shaped ericthonius had his birth (without a mother) from the teeming earth; _ minerva nursed him, and the infant laid within a chest, of twining osiers made. the daughters of king cecrops undertook to guard the chest, commanded not to look on what was hid within. i stood to see the charge obeyed, perched on a neighbouring tree. the sisters pandrosos and herse keep the strict command; aglauros needs would peep, and saw the monstrous infant in a fright, and called her sisters to the hideous sight: _ a boy's soft shape did to the waist prevail, but the boy ended in a dragon's tail. i told the stern minerva all that passed, but for my pains, discarded and disgraced, the frowning goddess drove me from her sight, and for her favourite chose the bird of night. be then no tell-tale; for i think my wrong enough to teach a bird to hold her tongue. 'but you, perhaps, may think i was removed, as never by the heavenly maid beloved: _ but i was loved; ask pallas if i lie; though pallas hate me now, she won't deny: for i, whom in a feathered shape you view, was once a maid, (by heaven, the story's true,) a blooming maid, and a king's daughter too. a crowd of lovers owned my beauty's charms; my beauty was the cause of all my harms; neptune, as on his shores i went to rove, observed me in my walks, and fell in love. he made his courtship, he confessed his pain, _ and offered force when all his arts were vain; swift he pursued: i ran along the strand, till, spent and wearied on the sinking sand, i shrieked aloud, with cries i filled the air to gods and men; nor god nor man was there: a virgin goddess heard a virgin's prayer. for, as my arms i lifted to the skies, i saw black feathers from my fingers rise; i strove to fling my garment to the ground; my garment turned to plumes, and girt me round: _ my hands to beat my naked bosom try; nor naked bosom now nor hands had i. lightly i tripped, nor weary as before sunk in the sand, but skimmed along the shore; till, rising on my wings, i was preferred to be the chaste minerva's virgin bird: preferred in vain! i now am in disgrace: nyctimene, the owl, enjoys my place. 'on her incestuous life i need not dwell, (in lesbos still the horrid tale they tell,) _ and of her dire amours you must have heard, for which she now does penance in a bird, that, conscious of her shame, avoids the light, and loves the gloomy covering of the night; the birds, where'er she flutters, scare away the hooting wretch, and drive her from the day.' the raven, urged by such impertinence, grew passionate, it seems, and took offence, and cursed the harmless daw; the daw withdrew: the raven to her injured patron flew, _ and found him out, and told the fatal truth of false coronis and the favoured youth. the god was wroth; the colour left his look, the wreath his head, the harp his hand forsook: his silver bow and feathered shafts he took, and lodged an arrow in the tender breast, that had so often to his own been pressed. down fell the wounded nymph, and sadly groaned, and pulled his arrow reeking from the wound; and weltering in her blood, thus faintly cried, _ 'ah, cruel god! though i have justly died, what has, alas! my unborn infant done, that he should fall, and two expire in one? this said, in agonies she fetched her breath. the god dissolves in pity at her death; he hates the bird that made her falsehood known, and hates himself for what himself had done; the feathered shaft, that sent her to the fates, and his own hand that sent the shaft he hates. fain would he heal the wound, and ease her pain, _ and tries the compass of his art in vain. soon as he saw the lovely nymph expire, the pile made ready, and the kindling fire, with sighs and groans her obsequies he kept, and, if a god could weep, the god had wept. her corpse he kissed, and heavenly incense brought, and solemnised the death himself had wrought. but, lest his offspring should her fate partake, spite of the immortal mixture in his make, he ripped her womb, and set the child at large, _ and gave him to the centaur chiron's charge: then in his fury blacked the raven o'er, and bid him prate in his white plumes no more. ocyrrhoe transformed to a mare. old chiron took the babe with secret joy, proud of the charge of the celestial boy. his daughter too, whom on the sandy shore the nymph chariclo to the centaur bore, with hair dishevelled on her shoulders came to see the child, ocyrrhöe was her name; she knew her father's arts, and could rehearse the depths of prophecy in sounding verse. once, as the sacred infant she surveyed, the god was kindled in the raving maid, _ and thus she uttered her prophetic tale; 'hail, great physician of the world, all hail; hail, mighty infant, who in years to come shalt heal the nations and defraud the tomb; swift be thy growth! thy triumphs unconfined! make kingdoms thicker, and increase mankind. thy daring art shall animate the dead, and draw the thunder on thy guilty head: then shalt thou die; but from the dark abode rise up victorious, and be twice a god. _ and thou, my sire, not destined by thy birth to turn to dust, and mix with common earth, how wilt thou toss, and rave, and long to die, and quit thy claim to immortality; when thou shalt feel, enraged with inward pains, the hydra's venom rankling in thy veins'? the gods, in pity, shall contract thy date, and give thee over to the power of fate.' thus, entering into destiny, the maid the secrets of offended jove betrayed; _ more had she still to say; but now appears oppressed with sobs and sighs, and drowned in tears. 'my voice,' says she, 'is gone, my language fails; through every limb my kindred shape prevails: why did the god this fatal gift impart, and with prophetic raptures swell my heart! what new desires are these? i long to pace o'er flowery meadows, and to feed on grass: i hasten to a brute, a maid no more; but why, alas! am i transformed all o'er? _ my sire does half a human shape retain, and in his upper parts preserves the man.' her tongue no more distinct complaints affords, but in shrill accents and mishapen words pours forth such hideous wailings, as declare the human form confounded in the mare: till by degrees accomplished in the beast, she neighed outright, and all the steed expressed. her stooping body on her hands is borne, her hands are turned to hoofs, and shod in horn; _ her yellow tresses ruffle in a mane, and in a flowing tail she frisks her train. the mare was finished in her voice and look, and a new name from the new figure took. the transformation of battus to a touchstone. sore wept the centaur, and to phoebus prayed; but how could phoebus give the centaur aid? degraded of his power by angry jove, in elis then a herd of beeves he drove; and wielded in his hand a staff of oak, and o'er his shoulders threw the shepherd's cloak; on seven compacted reeds he used to play, and on his rural pipe to waste the day. as once, attentive to his pipe, he played, the crafty hermes from the god conveyed _ a drove, that separate from their fellows strayed. the theft an old insidious peasant viewed, (they called him battus in the neighbourhood,) hired by a wealthy pylian prince to feed his favourite mares, and watch the generous breed. the thievish god suspected him, and took the hind aside, and thus in whispers spoke: 'discover not the theft, whoe'er thou be, and take that milk-white heifer for thy fee.' 'go, stranger,' cries the clown, 'securely on, _ that stone shall sooner tell;' and showed a stone. the god withdrew, but straight returned again, in speech and habit like a country swain; and cries out, 'neighbour, hast thou seen a stray of bullocks and of heifers pass this way? in the recovery of my cattle join, a bullock and a heifer shall be thine.' the peasant quick replies, 'you'll find 'em there, in yon dark vale:' and in the vale they were. the double bribe had his false heart beguiled: _ the god, successful in the trial, smiled; 'and dost thou thus betray myself to me? me to myself dost thou betray?' says he: then to a touchstone turns the faithless spy, and in his name records his infamy. the story of aglauros, transformed into a statue. this done, the god flew up on high, and passed o'er lofty athens, by minerva graced, and wide munichia, whilst his eyes survey all the vast region that beneath him lay. 'twas now the feast, when each athenian maid her yearly homage to minerva paid; in canisters, with garlands covered o'er, high on their heads their mystic gifts they bore; and now, returning in a solemn train, the troop of shining virgins filled the plain. _ the god well-pleased beheld the pompous show, and saw the bright procession pass below; then veered about, and took a wheeling flight, and hovered o'er them: as the spreading kite, that smells the slaughtered victim from on high, flies at a distance, if the priests are nigh, and sails around, and keeps it in her eye; so kept the god the virgin choir in view, and in slow winding circles round them flew. as lucifer excels the meanest star, _ or as the full-orbed phoebe, lucifer, so much did herse all the rest outvie, and gave a grace to the solemnity. hermes was fired, as in the clouds he hung: so the cold bullet, that with fury slung from balearic engines mounts on high, glows in the whirl, and burns along the sky. at length he pitched upon the ground, and showed the form divine, the features of a god. he knew their virtue o'er a female heart, _ and yet he strives to better them by art. he hangs his mantle loose, and sets to show the golden edging on the seam below; adjusts his flowing curls, and in his hand waves with an air the sleep-procuring wand; the glittering sandals to his feet applies, and to each heel the well-trimmed pinion ties. his ornaments with nicest art displayed, he seeks the apartment of the royal maid. the roof was all with polished ivory lined, _ that, richly mixed, in clouds of tortoise shined. three rooms, contiguous, in a range were placed, the midmost by the beauteous herse graced; her virgin sisters lodged on either side. aglauros first the approaching god descried, and as he crossed her chamber, asked his name, and what his business was, and whence he came. 'i come,' replied the god, 'from heaven, to woo your sister, and to make an aunt of you; i am the son and messenger of jove, _ my name is mercury, my business, love; do you, kind damsel, take a lover's part, and gain admittance to your sister's heart.' she stared him in the face with looks amazed, as when she on minerva's secret gazed, and asks a mighty treasure for her hire, and, till he brings it, makes the god retire. minerva grieved to see the nymph succeed; and now remembering the late impious deed, when, disobedient to her strict command, _ she touched the chest with an unhallowed hand; in big-swoln sighs her inward rage expressed, that heaved the rising Ægis on her breast; then sought out envy in her dark abode, defiled with ropy gore and clots of blood: shut from the winds, and from the wholesome skies, in a deep vale the gloomy dungeon lies, dismal and cold, where not a beam of light invades the winter, or disturbs the night. directly to the cave her course she steered; _ against the gates her martial lance she reared; the gates flew open, and the fiend appeared. a poisonous morsel in her teeth she chewed, and gorged the flesh of vipers for her food. minerva loathing turned away her eye; the hideous monster, rising heavily, came stalking forward with a sullen pace, and left her mangled offals on the place. soon as she saw the goddess gay and bright, she fetched a groan at such a cheerful sight. _ livid and meagre were her looks, her eye in foul, distorted glances turned awry; a hoard of gall her inward parts possessed, and spread a greenness o'er her cankered breast; her teeth were brown with rust; and from her tongue, in dangling drops, the stringy poison hung. she never smiles but when the wretched weep, nor lulls her malice with a moment's sleep, restless in spite: while watchful to destroy, she pines and sickens at another's joy; _ foe to herself, distressing and distressed, she bears her own tormentor in her breast. the goddess gave (for she abhorred her sight) a short command: 'to athens speed thy flight; on cursed aglauros try thy utmost art. and fix thy rankest venoms in her heart.' this said, her spear she pushed against the ground, and mounting from it with an active bound, flew off to heaven: the hag with eyes askew looked up, and muttered curses as she flew; _ for sore she fretted, and began to grieve at the success which she herself must give. then takes her staff, hung round with wreaths of thorn, and sails along, in a black whirlwind borne, o'er fields and flowery meadows: where she steers her baneful course, a mighty blast appears, mildews and blights; the meadows are defaced, the fields, the flowers, and the whole year laid waste; on mortals next and peopled towns she falls, and breathes a burning plague among their walls, _ when athens she beheld, for arts renowned, with peace made happy, and with plenty crowned, scarce could the hideous fiend from tears forbear, to find out nothing that deserved a tear. the apartment now she entered, where at rest aglauros lay, with gentle sleep oppressed. to execute minerva's dire command, she stroked the virgin with her cankered hand, then prickly thorns into her breast conveyed, that stung to madness the devoted maid; _ her subtle venom still improves the smart, frets in the blood, and festers in the heart. to make the work more sure, a scene she drew, and placed before the dreaming virgin's view her sister's marriage, and her glorious fate: the imaginary bride appears in state; the bridegroom with unwonted beauty glows, for envy magnifies whate'er she shows. full of the dream, aglauros pined away in tears all night, in darkness all the day; _ consumed like ice, that just begins to run, when feebly smitten by the distant sun; or like unwholesome weeds, that, set on fire, are slowly wasted, and in smoke expire. given up to envy, (for in every thought, the thorns, the venom, and the vision wrought). oft did she call on death, as oft decreed, rather than see her sister's wish succeed, to tell her awful father what had passed: at length before the door herself she cast; _ and, sitting on the ground with sullen pride, a passage to the love-sick god denied. the god caressed, and for admission prayed, and soothed, in softest words, the envenomed maid. in vain he soothed; 'begone!' the maid replies, 'or here i keep my seat, and never rise.' 'then keep thy seat for ever!' cries the god, and touched the door, wide-opening to his rod. fain would she rise, and stop him, but she found her trunk too heavy to forsake the ground; _ her joints are all benumbed, her hands are pale, and marble now appears in every nail. as when a cancer in her body feeds, and gradual death from limb to limb proceeds; so does the dullness to each vital part spread by degrees, and creeps into her heart; till, hardening everywhere, and speechless grown, she sits unmoved, and freezes to a stone. but still her envious hue and sullen mien are in the sedentary figure seen. _ europa's rape. when now the god his fury had allayed, and taken vengeance of the stubborn maid, from where the bright athenian turrets rise he mounts aloft, and reascends the skies. jove saw him enter the sublime abodes, and, as he mixed among the crowd of gods, beckoned him out, and drew him from the rest, and in soft whispers thus his will expressed. 'my trusty hermes, by whose ready aid thy sire's commands are through the world conveyed, _ resume thy wings, exert their utmost force, and to the walls of sidon speed they course; there find a herd of heifers wandering o'er the neighbouring hill, and drive them to the shore.' thus spoke the god, concealing his intent. the trusty hermes on his message went, and found the herd of heifers wandering o'er a neighbouring hill, and drove them to the shore; where the king's daughter, with a lovely train of fellow-nymphs, was sporting on the plain. _ the dignity of empire laid aside, (for love but ill agrees with kingly pride,) the ruler of the skies, the thundering god, who shakes the world's foundations with a nod, among a herd of lowing heifers ran, frisked in a bull, and bellowed o'er the plain. large rolls of fat about his shoulders clung, and from his neck the double dewlap hung. his skin was whiter than the snow that lies unsullied by the breath of southern skies; _ small shining horns on his curled forehead stand, as turned and polished by the workman's hand; his eye-balls rolled, not formidably bright, but gazed and languished with a gentle light. his every look was peaceful, and expressed the softness of the lover in the beast. agenor's royal daughter, as she played among the fields, the milk-white bull surveyed, and viewed his spotless body with delight, and at a distance kept him in her sight. _ at length she plucked the rising flowers, and fed the gentle beast, and fondly stroked his head. he stood well pleased to touch the charming fair, but hardly could confine his pleasure there. and now he wantons o'er the neighbouring strand, now rolls his body on the yellow sand; and now, perceiving all her fears decayed, comes tossing forward to the royal maid; gives her his breast to stroke, and downward turns his grisly brow, and gently stoops his horns. _ in flowery wreaths the royal virgin dressed his bending horns, and kindly clapped his breast. till now grown wanton, and devoid of fear, not knowing that she pressed the thunderer, she placed herself upon his back, and rode o'er fields and meadows, seated on the god. he gently marched along, and by degrees left the dry meadow, and approached the seas; where now he dips his hoofs and wets his thighs, now plunges in, and carries off the prize. _ the frighted nymph looks backward on the shore, and hears the tumbling billows round her roar; but still she holds him fast: one hand is borne upon his back, the other grasps a horn: her train of ruffling garments flies behind, swells in the air and hovers in the wind. through storms and tempests he the virgin bore, and lands her safe on the dictean shore; where now, in his divinest form arrayed, in his true shape he captivates the maid; _ who gazes on him, and with wondering eyes beholds the new majestic figure rise, his glowing features, and celestial light, and all the god discovered to her sight. book iii. the story of cadmus. when now agenor had his daughter lost, he sent his son to search on every coast; and sternly bid him to his arms restore the darling maid, or see his face no more, but live an exile in a foreign clime: thus was the father pious to a crime. the restless youth searched all the world around; but how can jove in his amours be found? when tired at length with unsuccessful toil, to shun his angry sire and native soil, _ he goes a suppliant to the delphic dome; there asks the god what new-appointed home should end his wanderings and his toils relieve. the delphic oracles this answer give: 'behold among the fields a lonely cow, unworn with yokes, unbroken to the plough; mark well the place where first she lays her down, there measure out thy walls, and build thy town, and from thy guide, boetia call the land, in which the destined walls and town shall stand.' _ no sooner had he left the dark abode, big with the promise of the delphic god, when in the fields the fatal cow he viewed, nor galled with yokes, nor worn with servitude: her gently at a distance he pursued; and, as he walked aloof, in silence prayed to the great power whose counsels he obeyed. her way through flowery panope she took, and now, cephisus, crossed thy silver brook; when to the heavens her spacious front she raised, _ and bellowed thrice, then backward turning, gazed on those behind, till on the destined place she stooped, and couched amid the rising grass. cadmus salutes the soil, and gladly hails the new-found mountains, and the nameless vales, and thanks the gods, and turns about his eye to see his new dominions round him lie; then sends his servants to a neighbouring grove for living streams, a sacrifice to jove. o'er the wide plain there rose a shady wood _ of aged trees; in its dark bosom stood a bushy thicket, pathless and unworn, o'errun with brambles, and perplexed with thorn: amidst the brake a hollow den was found, with rocks and shelving arches vaulted round. deep in the dreary den, concealed from day, sacred to mars, a mighty dragon lay, bloated with poison to a monstrous size; fire broke in flashes when he glanced his eyes; his towering crest was glorious to behold, _ his shoulders and his sides were scaled with gold; three tongues he brandished when he charged his foes; his teeth stood jagy in three dreadful rows. the tyrians in the den for water sought, and with their urns explored the hollow vault: from side to side their empty urns rebound, and rouse the sleepy serpent with the sound. straight he bestirs him, and is seen to rise; and now with dreadful hissings fills the skies, and darts his forky tongues, and rolls his glaring eyes. _ the tyrians drop their vessels in their fright, all pale and trembling at the hideous sight spire above spire upreared in air he stood, and gazing round him, overlooked the wood: then floating on the ground, in circles rolled; then leaped upon them in a mighty fold. of such a bulk, and such a monstrous size, the serpent in the polar circle lies, that stretches over half the northern skies. in vain the tyrians on their arms rely, _ in vain attempt to fight, in vain to fly: all their endeavours and their hopes are vain; some die entangled in the winding train; some are devoured; or feel a loathsome death, swoln up with blasts of pestilential breath. and now the scorching sun was mounted high, in all its lustre, to the noonday sky; when, anxious for his friends, and filled with cares, to search the woods the impatient chief prepares. a lion's hide around his loins he wore, _ the well-poised javelin to the field he bore, inured to blood, the far-destroying dart, and, the best weapon, an undaunted heart. soon as the youth approached the fatal place, he saw his servants breathless on the grass; the scaly foe amid their corps he viewed, basking at ease, and feasting in their blood, 'such friends,' he cries, 'deserved a longer date; but cadmus will revenge, or share their fate.' then heaved a stone, and rising to the throw _ he sent it in a whirlwind at the foe: a tower, assaulted by so rude a stroke, with all its lofty battlements had shook; but nothing here the unwieldy rock avails, rebounding harmless from the plaited scales, that, firmly joined, preserved him from a wound, with native armour crusted all around. the pointed javelin more successful flew, which at his back the raging warrior threw; amid the plaited scales it took its course, _ and in the spinal marrow spent its force. the monster hissed aloud, and raged in vain, and writhed his body to and fro with pain; and bit the spear, and wrenched the wood away; the point still buried in the marrow lay. and now his rage, increasing with his pain, reddens his eyes, and beats in every vein; churned in his teeth the foamy venom rose, whilst from his mouth a blast of vapours flows, such as the infernal stygian waters cast; _ the plants around him wither in the blast. now in a maze of rings he lies enrolled, now all unravelled, and without a fold; now, like a torrent, with a mighty force, bears down the forest in his boisterous course. cadmus gave back, and on the lion's spoil sustained the shock, then forced him to recoil; the pointed javelin warded off his rage: mad with his pains, and furious to engage, the serpent champs the steel, and bites the spear, _ till blood and venom all the point besmear. but still the hurt he yet received was slight; for, whilst the champion with redoubled might strikes home the javelin, his retiring foe shrinks from the wound, and disappoints the blow. the dauntless hero still pursues his stroke, and presses forward, till a knotty oak retards his foe, and stops him in the rear; full in his throat he plunged the fatal spear, that in the extended neck a passage found, _ and pierced the solid timber through the wound. fixed to the reeling trunk, with many a stroke of his huge tail, he lashed the sturdy oak; till spent with toil, and labouring hard for breath, he now lay twisting in the pangs of death. cadmus beheld him wallow in a flood of swimming poison, intermixed with blood; when suddenly a speech was heard from high, (the speech was heard, nor was the speaker nigh,) 'why dost thou thus with secret pleasure see, _ insulting man! what thou thyself shalt be?' astonished at the voice, he stood amazed, and all around with inward horror gazed: when pallas, swift descending from the skies, pallas, the guardian of the bold and wise, bids him plough up the field, and scatter round the dragon's teeth o'er all the furrowed ground; then tells the youth how to his wondering eyes embattled armies from the field should rise. he sows the teeth at pallas's command, _ and flings the future people from his hand. the clods grow warm, and crumble where he sows; and now the pointed spears advance in rows; now nodding plumes appear, and shining crests, now the broad shoulders and the rising breasts: o'er all the field the breathing harvest swarms, a growing host, a crop of men and arms. so through the parting stage a figure rears its body up, and limb by limb appears by just degrees; till all the man arise, _ and in his full proportion strikes the eyes. cadmus surprised, and startled at the sight of his new foes, prepared himself for fight: when one cried out, 'forbear, fond man, forbear to mingle in a blind, promiscuous war.' this said, he struck his brother to the ground, himself expiring by another's wound; nor did the third his conquest long survive, dying ere scarce he had begun to live. the dire example ran through all the field, _ till heaps of brothers were by brothers killed; the furrows swam in blood: and only five of all the vast increase were left alive. echion one, at pallas's command, let fall the guiltless weapon from his hand; and with the rest a peaceful treaty makes, whom cadmus as his friends and partners takes: so founds a city on the promised earth, and gives his new boeotian empire birth. here cadmus reigned; and now one would have guessed _ the royal founder in his exile blessed: long did he live within his new abodes, allied by marriage to the deathless gods; and, in a fruitful wife's embraces old, a long increase of children's children told: but no frail man, however great or high, can be concluded blessed before he die. actæon was the first of all his race, who grieved his grandsire in his borrowed face; condemned by stern diana to bemoan _ the branching horns, and visage not his own; to shun his once-loved dogs, to bound away, and from their huntsman to become their prey. and yet consider why the change was wrought, you'll find it his misfortune, not his fault; or if a fault, it was the fault of chance: for how can guilt proceed from ignorance? the transformation of actÆon into a stag. in a fair chase a shady mountain stood, well stored with game, and marked with trails of blood. here did the huntsmen till the heat of day pursue the stag, and load themselves with prey; when thus actæon calling to the rest: 'my friends,' says he, 'our sport is at the best. the sun is high advanced, and downward sheds his burning beams directly on our heads; then by consent abstain from further spoils, call off the dogs, and gather up the toils; _ and ere to-morrow's sun begins his race, take the cool morning to renew the chase.' they all consent, and in a cheerful train the jolly huntsmen, loaden with the slain, return in triumph from the sultry plain. down in a vale with pine and cypress clad, refreshed with gentle winds, and brown with shade, the chaste diana's private haunt, there stood full in the centre of the darksome wood a spacious grotto, all around o'ergrown _ with hoary moss, and arched with pumice-stone. from out its rocky clefts the waters flow, and trickling swell into a lake below. nature had everywhere so played her part, that everywhere she seemed to vie with art. here the bright goddess, toiled and chafed with heat, was wont to bathe her in the cool retreat. here did she now with all her train resort, panting with heat, and breathless from the sport; her armour-bearer laid her bow aside, _ some loosed her sandals, some her veil untied; each busy nymph her proper part undressed; while crocale, more handy than the rest, gathered her flowing hair, and in a noose bound it together, whilst her own hung loose. five of the more ignoble sort by turns fetch up the water, and unlade their urns. now all undressed the shining goddess stood, when young actæon, wildered in the wood, to the cool grot by his hard fate betrayed, _ the fountains filled with naked nymphs surveyed. the frighted virgins shrieked at the surprise, (the forest echoed with their piercing cries,) then in a huddle round their goddess pressed: she, proudly eminent above the rest, with blushes glowed; such blushes as adorn the ruddy welkin, or the purple morn; and though the crowding nymphs her body hide, half backward shrunk, and viewed him from aside. surprised, at first she would have snatched her bow, _ but sees the circling waters round her flow; these in the hollow of her hand she took, and dashed them in his face, while thus she spoke: 'tell if thou canst the wondrous sight disclosed, a goddess naked to thy view exposed.' this said, the man began to disappear by slow degrees, and ended in a deer. a rising horn on either brow he wears, and stretches out his neck, and pricks his ears; rough is his skin, with sudden hairs o'ergrown, _ his bosom pants with fears before unknown. transformed at length, he flies away in haste, and wonders why he flies away so fast. but as by chance, within a neighbouring brook, he saw his branching horns and altered look, wretched actæon! in a doleful tone he tried to speak, but only gave a groan; and as he wept, within the watery glass he saw the big round drops, with silent pace, run trickling down a savage hairy face. _ what should he do? or seek his old abodes, or herd among the deer, and skulk in woods? here shame dissuades him, there his fear prevails, and each by turns his aching heart assails. as he thus ponders, he behind him spies his opening hounds, and now he hears their cries: a generous pack, or to maintain the chase, or snuff the vapour from the scented grass. he bounded off with fear, and swiftly ran o'er craggy mountains, and the flowery plain; _ through brakes and thickets forced his way, and flew through many a ring, where once he did pursue. in vain he oft endeavoured to proclaim his new misfortune, and to tell his name; nor voice nor words the brutal tongue supplies; from shouting men, and horns, and dogs he flies, deafened and stunned with their promiscuous cries. when now the fleetest of the pack, that pressed close at his heels, and sprung before the rest, had fastened on him, straight another pair _ hung on his wounded haunch, and held him there, till all the pack came up, and every hound tore the sad huntsman, grovelling on the ground, who now appeared but one continued wound. with dropping tears his bitter fate he moans, and fills the mountain with his dying groans. his servants with a piteous look he spies, and turns about his supplicating eyes. his servants, ignorant of what had chanced, with eager haste and joyful shouts advanced, _ and called their lord actæon to the game: he shook his head in answer to the name; he heard, but wished he had indeed been gone, or only to have stood a looker-on. but, to his grief, he finds himself too near, and feels his ravenous dogs with fury tear their wretched master, panting in a deer. the birth of bacchus. actæon's sufferings, and diana's rage, did all the thoughts of men and gods engage; some called the evils which diana wrought, too great, and disproportioned to the fault: others, again, esteemed actæon's woes fit for a virgin goddess to impose. the hearers into different parts divide, and reasons are produced on either side. juno alone, of all that heard the news, nor would condemn the goddess, nor excuse: _ she heeded not the justice of the deed, but joyed to see the race of cadmus bleed; for still she kept europa in her mind, and, for her sake, detested all her kind. besides, to aggravate her hate, she heard how semele, to jove's embrace preferred, was now grown big with an immortal load, and carried in her womb a future god. thus terribly incensed, the goddess broke to sudden fury, and abruptly spoke. _ 'are my reproaches of so small a force? 'tis time i then pursue another course: it is decreed the guilty wretch shall die, if i'm indeed the mistress of the sky; if rightly styled among the powers above the wife and sister of the thundering jove, (and none can sure a sister's right deny,) it is decreed the guilty wretch shall die. she boasts an honour i can hardly claim; pregnant, she rises to a mother's name; _ while proud and vain she triumphs in her jove, and shows the glorious tokens of his love: but if i'm still the mistress of the skies, by her own lover the fond beauty dies.' this said, descending in a yellow cloud, before the gates of semele she stood. old beroe's decrepit shape she wears, her wrinkled visage, and her hoary hairs; whilst in her trembling gait she totters on, and learns to tattle in the nurse's tone. _ the goddess, thus disguised in age, beguiled with pleasing stories her false foster-child. much did she talk of love, and when she came to mention to the nymph her lover's name, fetching a sigh, and holding down her head, ''tis well,' says she, 'if all be true that's said; but trust me, child, i'm much inclined to fear some counterfeit in this your jupiter. many an honest, well-designing maid, has been by these pretended gods betrayed. _ but if he be indeed the thundering jove, bid him, when next he courts the rites of love, descend, triumphant from the ethereal sky, in all the pomp of his divinity; encompassed round by those celestial charms, with which he fills the immortal juno's arms.' the unwary nymph, insnared with what she said, desired of jove, when next he sought her bed, to grant a certain gift which she would choose; 'fear not,' replied the god, 'that i'll refuse _ whate'er you ask: may styx confirm my voice, choose what you will, and you shall have your choice.' 'then,' says the nymph, 'when next you seek my arms, may you descend in those celestial charms, with which your juno's bosom you inflame, and fill with transport heaven's immortal dame.' the god surprised, would fain have stopped her voice: but he had swrorn, and she had made her choice. to keep his promise he ascends, and shrouds his awful brow in whirlwinds and in clouds; _ whilst all around, in terrible array, his thunders rattle, and his lightnings play. and yet, the dazzling lustre to abate, he set not out in all his pomp and state, clad in the mildest lightning of the skies, and armed with thunder of the smallest size: not those huge bolts, by which the giants slain, lay overthrown on the phlegræan plain. twas of a lesser mould, and lighter weight; they call it thunder of a second-rate. _ for the rough cyclops, who by jove's command tempered the bolt, and turned it to his hand, worked up less flame and fury in its make, and quenched it sooner in the standing lake. thus dreadfully adorned, with horror bright, the illustrious god, descending from his height, came rushing on her in a storm of light. the mortal dame, too feeble to engage the lightning's flashes and the thunder's rage, consumed amidst the glories she desired, _ and in the terrible embrace expired. but, to preserve his offspring from the tomb, jove took him smoking from the blasted womb; and, if on ancient tales we may rely, enclosed the abortive infant in his thigh. here, when the babe had all his time fulfilled, ino first took him for her foster-child; then the niseans, in their dark abode, nursed secretly with milk the thriving god. the transformation of tiresias. 'twas now, while these transactions passed on earth, and bacchus thus procured a second birth, when jove, disposed to lay aside the weight of public empire and the cares of state, as to his queen in nectar bowls he quaffed, 'in troth,' says he, and as he spoke he laughed, 'the sense of pleasure in the male is far more dull and dead than what you females share.' juno the truth of what was said denied; tiresias therefore must the cause decide; _ for he the pleasure of each sex had tried. it happened once, within a shady wood, two twisted snakes he in conjunction viewed; when with his staff their slimy folds he broke, and lost his manhood at the fatal stroke. but, after seven revolving years, he viewed the self-same serpents in the self-same wood; 'and if,' says he, 'such virtue in you lie, that he who dares your slimy folds untie must change his kind, a second stroke i'll try.' _ again he struck the snakes, and stood again new-sexed, and straight recovered into man. him therefore both the deities create the sovereign umpire in their grand debate; and he declared for jove; when juno, fired more than so trivial an affair required, deprived him, in her fury, of his sight, and left him groping round in sudden night. but jove (for so it is in heaven decreed, that no one god repeal another's deed) _ irradiates all his soul with inward light, and with the prophet's art relieves the want of sight. the transformation of echo. famed far and near for knowing things to come, from him the inquiring nations sought their doom; the fair liriope his answers tried, and first the unerring prophet justified; this nymph the god cephisus had abused, with all his winding waters circumfused, and on the nereid got a lovely boy, whom the soft maids even then beheld with joy. the tender dame, solicitous to know whether her child should reach old age or no, _ consults the sage tiresias, who replies, 'if e'er he knows himself, he surely dies.' long lived the dubious mother in suspense, till time unriddled all the prophet's sense. narcissus now his sixteenth year began, just turned of boy, and on the verge of man; many a friend the blooming youth caressed, many a love-sick maid her flame confessed: such was his pride, in vain the friend caressed, the love-sick maid in vain her flame confessed. _ once, in the woods, as he pursued the chase, the babbling echo had descried his face; she, who in others' words her silence breaks, nor speaks herself but when another speaks. echo was then a maid, of speech bereft, of wonted speech; for though her voice was left, juno a curse did on her tongue impose, to sport with every sentence in the close. full often, when the goddess might have caught jove and her rivals in the very fault, _ this nymph with subtle stories would delay her coming, till the lovers slipped away. the goddess found out the deceit in time, and then she cried, 'that tongue, for this thy crime, which could so many subtle tales produce, shall be hereafter but of little use.' hence 'tis she prattles in a fainter tone, with mimic sounds, and accents not her own. this love-sick virgin, overjoyed to find the boy alone, still followed him behind; _ when, glowing warmly at her near approach, as sulphur blazes at the taper's touch, she longed her hidden passion to reveal, and tell her pains, but had not words to tell: she can't begin, but waits for the rebound, to catch his voice, and to return the sound. the nymph, when nothing could narcissus move, still dashed with blushes for her slighted love, lived in the shady covert of the woods, in solitary caves and dark abodes; _ where pining wandered the rejected fair, till harassed out, and worn away with care, the sounding skeleton, of blood bereft, besides her bones and voice had nothing left. her bones are petrified, her voice is found in vaults, where still it doubles every sound. the story of narcissus. thus did the nymphs in vain caress the boy, he still was lovely, but he still was coy; when one fair virgin of the slighted train thus prayed the gods, provoked by his disdain, 'oh, may he love like me, and love like me in vain!' rhamnusia pitied the neglected fair, and with just vengeance answered to her prayer. there stands a fountain in a darksome wood, nor stained with falling leaves nor rising mud; untroubled by the breath of winds it rests, _ unsullied by the touch of men or beasts: high bowers of shady trees above it grow, and rising grass and cheerful greens below. pleased with the form and coolness of the place, and over-heated by the morning chase, narcissus on the grassy verdure lies: but whilst within the crystal fount he tries to quench his heat, he feels new heats arise. for as his own bright image he surveyed, he fell in love with the fantastic shade; _ and o'er the fair resemblance hung unmoved, nor knew, fond youth! it was himself he loved. the well-turned neck and shoulders he descries, the spacious forehead, and the sparkling eyes; the hands that bacchus might not scorn to show, and hair that round apollo's head might flow, with all the purple youthfulness of face, that gently blushes in the watery glass. by his own flames consumed the lover lies, and gives himself the wound by which he dies. _ to the cold water oft he joins his lips, oft catching at the beauteous shade he dips his arms, as often from himself he slips. nor knows he who it is his arms pursue with eager clasps, but loves he knows not who. what could, fond youth, this helpless passion move? what kindle in thee this unpitied love? thy own warm blush within the water glows, with thee the coloured shadow comes and goes, its empty being on thyself relies; _ step thou aside, and the frail charmer dies. still o'er the fountain's watery gleam he stood, mindless of sleep, and negligent of food; still viewed his face, and languished as he viewed. at length he raised his head, and thus began to vent his griefs, and tell the woods his pain. 'you trees,' says he, 'and thou surrounding grove, who oft have been the kindly scenes of love, tell me, if e'er within your shades did lie a youth so tortured, so perplexed as i? _ i who before me see the charming fair, whilst there he stands, and yet he stands not there: in such a maze of love my thoughts are lost; and yet no bulwarked town, nor distant coast, preserves the beauteous youth from being seen, no mountains rise, nor oceans flow between. a shallow water hinders my embrace; and yet the lovely mimic wears a face that kindly smiles, and when i bend to join my lips to his, he fondly bends to mine. _ hear, gentle youth, and pity my complaint, come from thy well, thou fair inhabitant. my charms an easy conquest have obtained o'er other hearts, by thee alone disdained. but why should i despair? i'm sure he burns with equal flames, and languishes by turns. whene'er i stoop he offers at a kiss, and when my arms i stretch, he stretches his. his eye with pleasure on my face he keeps, he smiles my smiles, and when i weep he weeps. _ whene'er i speak, his moving lips appear to utter something, which i cannot hear. 'ah wretched me! i now begin too late to find out all the long-perplexed deceit; it is myself i love, myself i see; the gay delusion is a part of me. i kindle up the fires by which i burn, and my own beauties from the well return. whom should i court? how utter my complaint? enjoyment but produces my restraint, _ and too much plenty makes me die for want. how gladly would i from myself remove! and at a distance set the thing i love. my breast is warmed with such unusual fire, i wish him absent whom i most desire. and now i faint with grief; my fate draws nigh; in all the pride of blooming youth i die. death will the sorrows of my heart relieve. oh, might the visionary youth survive, i should with joy my latest breath resign! _ but oh! i see his fate involved in mine.' this said, the weeping youth again returned to the clear fountain, where again he burned; his tears defaced the surface of the well with circle after circle, as they fell: and now the lovely face but half appears, o'errun with wrinkles, and deformed with tears. 'all whither,' cries narcissus, 'dost thou fly? let me still feed the flame by which i die; let me still see, though i'm no further blessed.' _ then rends his garment off, and beats his breast: his naked bosom reddened with the blow, in such a blush as purple clusters show, ere yet the sun's autumnal heats refine their sprightly juice, and mellow it to wine. the glowing beauties of his breast he spies, and with a new redoubled passion dies. as wax dissolves, as ice begins to run, and trickle into drops before the sun; so melts the youth, and languishes away, _ his beauty withers, and his limbs decay; and none of those attractive charms remain, to which the slighted echo sued in vain. she saw him in his present misery, whom, spite of all her wrongs, she grieved to see. she answered sadly to the lover's moan, sighed back his sighs, and groaned to every groan: 'ah youth! beloved in vain,' narcissus cries; 'ah youth! beloved in vain,' the nymph replies. 'farewell,' says he; the parting sound scarce fell _ from his faint lips, but she replied, 'farewell.' then on the unwholesome earth he gasping lies, till death shuts up those self-admiring eyes. to the cold shades his flitting ghost retires, and in the stygian waves itself admires. for him the naiads and the dryads mourn, whom the sad echo answers in her turn; and now the sister-nymphs prepare his urn: when, looking for his corpse, they only found a rising stalk, with yellow blossoms crowned. _ the story of pentheus. this sad event gave blind tiresias fame, through greece established in a prophet's name. the unhallowed pentheus only durst deride the cheated people, and their eyeless guide, to whom the prophet in his fury said, shaking the hoary honours of his head; 'twere well, presumptuous man, 'twere well for thee if thou wert eyeless too, and blind, like me: for the time comes, nay, 'tis already here, when the young god's solemnities appear; _ which, if thou dost not with just rites adorn, thy impious carcase, into pieces torn, shall strew the woods, and hang on every thorn. then, then, remember what i now foretell, and own the blind tiresias saw too well.' still pentheus scorns him, and derides his skill, but time did all the promised threats fulfil. for now through prostrate greece young bacchus rode, whilst howling matrons celebrate the god. all ranks and sexes to his orgies ran, _ to mingle in the pomps, and fill the train. when pentheus thus his wicked rage express'd; 'what madness, thebans, has your soul possess'd? can hollow timbrels, can a drunken shout, and the lewd clamours of a beastly rout, thus quell your courage? can the weak alarm of women's yells those stubborn souls disarm, whom nor the sword nor trumpet e'er could fright, nor the loud din and horror of a fight? and you, our sires, who left your old abodes, _ and fixed in foreign earth your country gods; will you without a stroke your city yield, and poorly quit an undisputed field? but you, whose youth and vigour should inspire heroic warmth, and kindle martial fire, whom burnished arms and crested helmets grace, not flowery garlands and a painted face; remember him to whom you stand allied: the serpent for his well of waters died. he fought the strong; do you his courage show, _ and gain a conquest o'er a feeble foe. if thebes must fall, oh might the fates afford a nobler doom from famine, fire, or sword! then might the thebans perish with renown: but now a beardless victor sacks the town; whom nor the prancing steed, nor ponderous shield, nor the hacked helmet, nor the dusty field, but the soft joys of luxury and ease, the purple vests, and flowery garlands, please. stand then aside, i'll make the counterfeit _ renounce his godhead, and confess the cheat. acrisius from the grecian walls repelled this boasted power; why then should pentheus yield? go quickly, drag the audacious boy to me; i'll try the force of his divinity.' thus did the audacious wretch those rites profane; his friends dissuade the audacious wretch in vain; in vain his grandsire urged him to give o'er his impious threats; the wretch but raves the more. so have i seen a river gently glide, _ in a smooth course and inoffensive tide; but if with dams its current we restrain, it bears down all, and foams along the plain. but now his servants came besmeared with blood, sent by their haughty prince to seize the god; the god they found not in the frantic throng but dragged a zealous votary along. the mariners transformed to dolphins. him pentheus viewed with fury in his look, and scarce withheld his hands, while thus he spoke: 'vile slave! whom speedy vengeance shall pursue, and terrify thy base, seditious crew: thy country and thy parentage reveal, and why thou join'st in these mad orgies tell.' the captive views him with undaunted eyes, and, armed with inward innocence, replies. 'from high meonia's rocky shores i came, of poor descent, acætes is my name: _ my sire was meanly born; no oxen ploughed his fruitful fields, nor in his pastures lowed. his whole estate within the waters lay; with lines and hooks he caught the finny prey. his art was all his livelihood; which he thus with his dying lips bequeathed to me: in streams, my boy, and rivers, take thy chance; there swims,' said he, 'thy whole inheritance. 'long did i live on this poor legacy; till tired with rocks, and my own native sky, _ to arts of navigation i inclined, observed the turns and changes of the wind: learned the fit havens, and began to note the stormy hyades, the rainy goat, the bright täygete, and the shining bears, with all the sailor's catalogue of stars. 'once, as by chance for delos i designed, my vessel, driven by a strong gust of wind, moored in a chian creek; ashore i went, and all the following night in chios spent. _ when morning rose, i sent my mates to bring supplies of water from a neighbouring spring, whilst i the motion of the winds explored; then summoned in my crew, and went aboard. opheltes heard my summons, and with joy brought to the shore a soft and lovely boy, with more than female sweetness in his look, whom straggling in the neighbouring fields he took. with fumes of wine the little captive glows, and nods with sleep, and staggers as he goes. _ 'i viewed him nicely, and began to trace each heavenly feature, each immortal grace, and saw divinity in all his face. "i know not who," said i, "this god should be; but that he is a god i plainly see: and thou, whoe'er thou art, excuse the force these men have used; and, oh! befriend our course!" "pray not for us," the nimble dictys cried, dictys, that could the main-top-mast bestride, and down the ropes with active vigour slide. _ to the same purpose old epopeus spoke, who overlooked the oars, and timed the stroke; the same the pilot, and the same the rest; such impious avarice their souls possessed. "nay, heaven forbid that i should bear away within my vessel so divine a prey," said i; and stood to hinder their intent: when lycabas, a wretch for murder sent from tuscany, to suffer banishment, with his clenched fist had struck me overboard, _ had not my hands, in falling, grasped a cord. 'his base confederates the fact approve; when bacchus (for 'twas he) began to move, waked by the noise and clamours which they raised; and shook his drowsy limbs, and round him gazed: "what means this noise?" he cries; "am i betrayed? all! whither, whither must i be conveyed?" "fear not," said proreus, "child, but tell us where you wish to land, and trust our friendly care." "to naxos then direct your course," said he; _ "naxos a hospitable port shall be to each of you, a joyful home to me." by every god that rules the sea or sky, the perjured villains promise to comply, and bid me hasten to unmoor the ship. with eager joy i launch into the deep; and, heedless of the fraud, for naxos stand: they whisper oft, and beckon with the hand, and give me signs, all anxious for their prey, to tack about, and steer another way. _ "then let some other to my post succeed," said i, "i'm guiltless of so foul a deed." "what," says ethalion, "must the ship's whole crew follow your humour, and depend on you?" and straight himself he seated at the prore, and tacked about, and sought another shore. 'the beauteous youth now found himself betrayed, and from the deck the rising waves surveyed, and seemed to weep, and as he wept he said; "and do you thus my easy faith beguile? _ thus do you bear me to my native isle? will such a multitude of men employ their strength against a weak, defenceless boy?" 'in vain did i the godlike youth deplore, the more i begged, they thwarted me the more. and now by all the gods in heaven that hear this solemn oath, by bacchus' self, i swear, the mighty miracle that did ensue, although it seems beyond belief, is true. the vessel, fixed and rooted in the flood, _ unmoved by all the beating billows stood. in vain the mariners would plough the main with sails unfurled, and strike their oars in vain; around their oars a twining ivy cleaves, and climbs the mast and hides the cords in leaves: the sails are covered with a cheerful green, and berries in the fruitful canvas seen. amidst the waves a sudden forest rears its verdant head, and a new spring appears. 'the god we now behold with open eyes; _ a herd of spotted panthers round him lies in glaring forms; the grapy clusters spread on his fair brows, and dangle on his head. and whilst he frowns, and brandishes his spear, my mates, surprised with madness or with fear, leaped overboard; first perjured madon found rough scales and fins his stiffening sides surround; "ah! what," cries one, "has thus transformed thy look?" straight his own mouth grew wider as he spoke; and now himself he views with like surprise. _ still at his oar the industrious libys plies; but, as he plies, each busy arm shrinks in, and by degrees is fashioned to a fin. another, as he catches at a cord, misses his arms, and, tumbling overboard, with his broad fins and forky tail he laves the rising surge, and flounces in the waves. thus all my crew transformed around the ship, or dive below, or on the surface leap, and spout the waves, and wanton in the deep. _ full nineteen sailors did the ship convey, a shoal of nineteen dolphins round her play. i only in my proper shape appear, speechless with wonder, and half dead with fear, till bacchus kindly bid me fear no more. with him i landed on the chian shore, and him shall ever gratefully adore.' 'this forging slave,' says pentheus, 'would prevail o'er our just fury by a far-fetched tale: go, let him feel the whips, the swords, the fire, _ and in the tortures of the rack expire.' the officious servants hurry him away, and the poor captive in a dungeon lay. but, whilst the whips and tortures are prepared. the gates fly open, of themselves unbarred; at liberty the unfettered captive stands, and flings the loosened shackles from his hands. the death of pentheus. but penthcus, grown more furious than before, resolved to send his messengers no more, but went himself to the distracted throng, where high cithæron echoed with their song. and as the fiery war-horse paws the ground, and snorts and trembles at the trumpet's sound; transported thus he heard the frantic rout, and raved and maddened at the distant shout. a spacious circuit on the hill there stood, level and wide, and skirted round with wood; _ here the rash pentheus, with unhallowed eyes, the howling dames and mystic orgies spies. his mother sternly viewed him where he stood, and kindled into madness as she viewed: her leafy javelin at her son she cast, and cries, 'the boar that lays our country waste! the boar, my sisters! aim the fatal dart, and strike the brindled monster to the heart.' pentheus astonished heard the dismal sound, and sees the yelling matrons gathering round: _ he sees, and weeps at his approaching fate, and begs for mercy, and repents too late. 'help, help! my aunt autonöe,' he cried; 'remember how your own actæon died.' deaf to his cries, the frantic matron crops one stretched-out arm, the other ino lops. in vain does pentheus to his mother sue, and the raw bleeding stumps presents to view: his mother howled; and heedless of his prayer, her trembling hand she twisted in his hair, _ 'and this,' she cried, 'shall be agave's share,' when from the neck his struggling head she tore, and in her hands the ghastly visage bore, with pleasure all the hideous trunk survey; then pulled and tore the mangled limbs away, as starting in the pangs of death it lay. soon as the wood its leafy honours casts, blown off and scattered by autumnal blasts, with such a sudden death lay pentheus slain, and in a thousand pieces strowed the plain. _ by so distinguishing a judgment awed, the thebans tremble, and confess the god. book iv. the story of salmacis and hermaphrodites. how salmacis, with weak enfeebling streams softens the body, and unnerves the limbs, and what the secret cause, shall here be shown; the cause is secret, but the effect is known. the naïads nursed an infant heretofore, that cytherea once to hermes bore: from both the illustrious authors of his race the child was named; nor was it hard to trace both the bright parents through the infant's face. when fifteen years, in ida's cool retreat, _ the boy had told, he left his native seat, and sought fresh fountains in a foreign soil; the pleasure lessened the attending toil. with eager steps the lycian fields he crossed, and fields that border on the lycian coast; a river here he viewed so lovely bright, it showed the bottom in a fairer light, nor kept a sand concealed from human sight. the stream produced nor slimy ooze, nor weeds, nor miry rushes, nor the spiky reeds; _ but dealt enriching moisture all around, the fruitful banks with cheerful verdure crowned, and kept the spring eternal on the ground. a nymph presides, nor practised in the chase, nor skilful at the bow, nor at the race; of all the blue-eyed daughters of the main, the only stranger to diana's train: her sisters often, as 'tis said, would cry, 'fie, salmacis, what always idle! fie, or take thy quiver, or thy arrows seize, _ and mix the toils of hunting with thy ease.' nor quiver she nor arrows e'er would seize, nor mix the toils of hunting with her ease. but oft would bathe her in the crystal tide, oft with a comb her dewy locks divide; now in the limpid streams she viewed her face, and dressed her image in the floating glass: on beds of leaves she now reposed her limbs, now gathered flowers that grew about her streams: and then by chance was gathering, as she stood _ to view the boy, and longed for what she viewed. fain would she meet the youth with hasty feet, she fain would meet him, but refused to meet before her looks were set with nicest care, and well deserved to be reputed fair. 'bright youth,' she cries, 'whom all thy features prove a god, and, if a god, the god of love; but if a mortal, bless'd thy nurse's breast, bless'd are thy parents, and thy sisters bless'd: but, oh! how bless'd! how more than bless'd thy bride, _ allied in bliss, if any yet allied. if so, let mine the stolen enjoyments be; if not, behold a willing bride in me.' the boy knew nought of love, and, touched with shame, he strove, and blushed, but still the blush became: in rising blushes still fresh beauties rose; the sunny side of fruit such blushes shows, and such the moon, when all her silver white turns in eclipses to a ruddy light. the nymph still begs, if not a nobler bliss, _ a cold salute at least, a sister's kiss: and now prepares to take the lovely boy between her arms. he, innocently coy, replies, 'or leave me to myself alone, you rude, uncivil nymph, or i'll begone.' 'fair stranger then,' says she, 'it shall be so;' and, for she feared his threats, she feigned to go; but hid within a covert's neighbouring green, she kept him still in sight, herself unseen. the boy now fancies all the danger o'er, _ and innocently sports about the shore, playful and wanton to the stream he trips, and dips his foot, and shivers as he dips. the coolness pleased him, and with eager haste his airy garments on the banks he cast; his godlike features, and his heavenly hue, and all his beauties were exposed to view. his naked limbs the nymph with rapture spies, while hotter passions in her bosom rise, flush in her cheeks, and sparkle in her eyes. _ she longs, she burns to clasp him in her arms, and looks, and sighs, and kindles at his charms. now all undressed upon the banks he stood, and clapped his sides and leaped into the flood: his lovely limbs the silver waves divide, his limbs appear more lovely through the tide; as lilies shut within a crystal case, receive a glossy lustre from the glass. 'he's mine, he's all my own,' the naiad cries, and flings off all, and after him she flies. _ and now she fastens on him as he swims, and holds him close, and wraps about his limbs. the more the boy resisted, and was coy, the more she clipped and kissed the struggling boy. so when the wriggling snake is snatched on high in eagle's claws, and hisses in the sky, around the foe his twirling tail he flings, and twists her legs, and writhes about her wings. the restless boy still obstinately strove to free himself, and still refused her love. _ amidst his limbs she kept her limbs entwined, 'and why, coy youth,' she cries, 'why thus unkind! oh may the gods thus keep us ever joined! oh may we never, never part again!' so prayed the nymph, nor did she pray in vain: for now she finds him, as his limbs she pressed, grow nearer still, and nearer to her breast; till, piercing each the other's flesh, they run together, and incorporate in one: last in one face are both their faces joined, _ as when the stock and grafted twig combined shoot up the same, and wear a common rind: both bodies in a single body mix, a single body with a double sex. the boy, thus lost in woman, now surveyed the river's guilty stream, and thus he prayed: (he prayed, but wondered at his softer tone, surprised to hear a voice but half his own:) you parent gods, whose heavenly names i bear, hear your hermaphrodite, and grant my prayer; _ oh grant, that whomsoe'er these streams contain, if man he entered, he may rise again supple, unsinewed, and but half a man! the heavenly parents answered, from on high, their two-shaped son, the double votary; then gave a secret virtue to the flood, and tinged its source to make his wishes good. to her royal highness the princess of wales,[ ] with the tragedy of cato, nov. . the muse that oft, with sacred raptures fired, has generous thoughts of liberty inspired, and, boldly rising for britannia's laws, engaged great cato in her country's cause, on you submissive waits, with hopes assured, by whom the mighty blessing stands secured, and all the glories that our age adorn, are promised to a people yet unborn. no longer shall the widowed land bemoan a broken lineage, and a doubtful throne; _ but boast her royal progeny's increase, and count the pledges of her future peace. o, born to strengthen and to grace our isle! while you, fair princess, in your offspring smile, supplying charms to the succeeding age, each heavenly daughter's triumphs we presage; already see the illustrious youths complain, and pity monarchs doomed to sigh in vain. thou too, the darling of our fond desires, whom albion, opening wide her arms, requires, _ with manly valour and attractive air shalt quell the fierce and captivate the fair. o england's younger hope! in whom conspire the mother's sweetness and the father's fire! for thee perhaps, even now, of kingly race, some dawning beauty blooms in every grace, some carolina, to heaven's dictates true, who, while the sceptred rivals vainly sue, thy inborn worth with conscious eyes shall see, and slight the imperial diadem for thee. _ pleased with the prospect of successive reigns, the tuneful tribe no more in daring strains shall vindicate, with pious fears oppressed, endangered rights, and liberty distressed: to milder sounds each muse shall tune the lyre, and gratitude, and faith to kings inspire, and filial love; bid impious discord cease, and soothe the madding factions into peace; or rise ambitious in more lofty lays, and teach the nation their new monarch's praise, _ describe his awful look and godlike mind, and cæsar's power with cato's virtue joined. meanwhile, bright princess, who, with graceful ease and native majesty, are formed to please, behold those arts with a propitious eye, that suppliant to their great protectress fly! then shall they triumph, and the british stage improve her manners and refine her rage, more noble characters expose to view, and draw her finished heroines from you. _ nor you the kind indulgence will refuse, skilled in the labours of the deathless muse: the deathless muse with undiminished rays through distant times the lovely dame conveys: to gloriana[ ] waller's harp was strung; the queen still shines, because the poet sung. even all those graces, in your frame combined, the common fate of mortal charms may find, (content our short-lived praises to engage, the joy and wonder of a single age,) _ unless some poet in a lasting song to late posterity their fame prolong, instruct our sons the radiant form to prize. and see your beauty with their fathers' eyes. to sir godfrey kneller[ ] on his picture of the king.[ ] kneller, with silence and surprise we see britannia's monarch rise, a godlike form, by thee displayed in all the force of light and shade; and, awed by thy delusive hand, as in the presence-chamber stand. the magic of thy art calls forth his secret soul and hidden worth, his probity and mildness shows, his care of friends and scorn of foes: _ in every stroke, in every line, does some exalted virtue shine, and albion's happiness we trace through all the features of his face. oh may i live to hail the day, when the glad nation shall survey their sovereign, through his wide command, passing in progress o'er the land! each heart shall bend, and every voice in loud applauding shouts rejoice, _ whilst all his gracious aspect praise, and crowds grow loyal as they gaze. this image on the medal placed, with its bright round of titles graced, and stamped on british coins, shall live, to richest ores the value give, or, wrought within the curious mould, shape and adorn the running gold. to bear this form, the genial sun has daily, since his course begun, _ rejoiced the metal to refine, and ripened the peruvian mine. thou, kneller, long with noble pride, the foremost of thy art, hast vied with nature in a generous strife, and touched the canvas into life. thy pencil has, by monarchs sought, from reign to reign in ermine wrought, and, in their robes of state arrayed, the kings of half an age displayed. _ here swarthy charles appears, and there his brother with dejected air: triumphant nassau here we find, and with him bright maria joined; there anna, great as when she sent her armies through the continent, ere yet her hero was disgraced: oh may famed brunswick be the last, (though heaven should with my wish agree, and long preserve thy art in thee,) _ the last, the happiest british king, whom thou shalt paint, or i shall sing! wise phidias, thus his skill to prove, through many a god advanced to jove, and taught the polished rocks to shine with airs and lineaments divine; till greece, amazed, and half afraid, the assembled deities surveyed. great pan, who wont to chase the fair, and loved the spreading oak, was there; _ old saturn too, with up-cast eyes, beheld his abdicated skies; and mighty mars, for war renowned, in adamantine armour frowned; by him the childless goddess rose, minerva, studious to compose her twisted threads; the web she strung, and o'er a loom of marble hung: thetis, the troubled ocean's queen. matched with a mortal, next was seen, _ reclining on a funeral urn, her short-lived darling son to mourn. the last was he, whose thunder slew the titan race, a rebel crew, that, from a hundred hills allied in impious leagues, their king defied. this wonder of the sculptor's hand produced, his art was at a stand: for who would hope new fame to raise, or risk his well-established praise, _ that, his high genius to approve, had drawn a george, or carved a jove! the play-house. where gentle thames through stately channels glides, and england's proud metropolis divides; a lofty fabric does the sight invade, and stretches o'er the waves a pompous shade; whence sudden shouts the neighbourhood surprise, and thundering claps and dreadful hissings rise. here thrifty r----[ ] hires monarchs by the day, and keeps his mercenary kings in pay; with deep-mouth'd actors fills the vacant scenes, and rakes the stews for goddesses and queens: _ here the lewd punk, with crowns and sceptres graced, teaches her eyes a more majestic cast; and hungry monarchs with a numerous train of suppliant slaves, like sancho, starve and reign. but enter in, my muse; the stage survey, and all its pomp and pageantry display; trap-doors and pit-falls, form the unfaithful ground, and magic walls encompass it around: on either side maim'd temples fill our eyes, and intermixed with brothel-houses rise; _ disjointed palaces in order stand, and groves obedient to the mover's hand o'ershade the stage, and flourish at command. a stamp makes broken towns and trees entire: so when amphion struck the vocal lyre, he saw the spacious circuit all around, with crowding woods and rising cities crown'd. but next the tiring-room survey, and see false titles, and promiscuous quality, confus'dly swarm, from heroes and from queens, _ to those that swing in clouds and fill machines. their various characters they choose with art, the frowning bully fits the tyrant's part: swoln cheeks and swaggering belly make an host, pale, meagre looks and hollow voice a ghost; from careful brows and heavy downcast eyes, dull cits and thick-skull'd aldermen arise: the comic tone, inspir'd by congreve, draws at every word, loud laughter and applause: the whining dame continues as before, _ her character unchanged, and acts a whore. above the rest, the prince with haughty stalks magnificent in purple buskins walks: the royal robes his awful shoulders grace, profuse of spangles and of copper-lace: officious rascals to his mighty thigh, guiltless of blood, the unpointed weapon tie: then the gay glittering diadem put on, ponderous with brass, and starr'd with bristol-stone. his royal consort next consults her glass, _ and out of twenty boxes culls a face; the whitening first her ghastly looks besmears, all pale and wan the unfinish'd form appears; till on her cheeks the blushing purple glows, and a false virgin-modesty bestows. her ruddy lips the deep vermilion dyes; length to her brows the pencil's arts supplies, and with black bending arches shades her eyes. well pleased at length the picture she beholds, and spots it o'er with artificial molds; _ her countenance complete, the beaux she warms with looks not hers: and, spite of nature, charms. thus artfully their persons they disguise, till the last flourish bids the curtain rise. the prince then enters on the stage in state; behind, a guard of candle-snuffers wait: there swoln with empire, terrible and fierce, he shakes the dome, and tears his lungs with verse: his subjects tremble; the submissive pit, wrapt up in silence and attention, sit; _ till, freed at length, he lays aside the weight of public business and affairs of state: forgets his pomp, dead to ambitious fires, and to some peaceful brandy-shop retires; where in full gills his anxious thoughts he drowns, and quaffs away the care that waits on crowns. the princess next her painted charms displays, where every look the pencil's art betrays; the callow squire at distance feeds his eyes, and silently for paint and washes dies: _ but if the youth behind the scenes retreat, he sees the blended colours melt with heat, and all the trickling beauty run in sweat. the borrow'd visage he admires no more, and nauseates every charm he loved before: so the famed spear, for double force renown'd, applied the remedy that gave the wound. in tedious lists 'twere endless to engage, and draw at length the rabble of the stage, where one for twenty years has given alarms, _ and call'd contending monarchs to their arms; another fills a more important post, and rises every other night a ghost; through the cleft stage his mealy face he rears, then stalks along, groans thrice, and disappears; others, with swords and shields, the soldier's pride, more than a thousand times have changed their side, and in a thousand fatal battles died. thus several persons several parts perform; soft lovers whine, and blustering heroes storm. _ the stern exasperated tyrants rage, till the kind bowl of poison clears the stage. then honours vanish, and distinctions cease; then, with reluctance, haughty queens undress. heroes no more their fading laurels boast, and mighty kings in private men are lost. he, whom such titles swell'd, such power made proud, to whom whole realms and vanquish'd nations bow'd, throws off the gaudy plume, the purple train, and in his own vile tatters stinks again. _ on the lady manchester. written on the toasting-glasses of the kit-cat club. while haughty gallia's dames, that spread o'er their pale cheeks an artful red, beheld this beauteous stranger there, in native charms divinely fair; confusion in their looks they show'd; and with unborrow'd blushes glow'd. an ode. the spacious firmament on high, with all the blue ethereal sky, and spangled heavens, a shining frame, their great original proclaim. the unwearied sun from day to day does his creator's power display; and publishes, to every land, the work of an almighty hand. soon as the evening shades prevail, the moon takes up the wondrous tale; and nightly, to the listening earth, repeats the story of her birth: whilst all the stars that round her burn, and all the planets, in their turn, confirm the tidings as they roll, and spread the truth from pole to pole. what though, in solemn silence, all move round the dark terrestrial ball; what though no real voice, nor sound amidst their radiant orbs be found: in reason's ear they all rejoice, and utter forth a glorious voice; for ever singing as they shine: 'the hand that made us is divine.' an hymn. when all thy mercies, o my god, my rising soul surveys; transported with the view, i'm lost in wonder, love, and praise. o how shall words with equal warmth the gratitude declare, that glows within my ravish'd heart! but thou canst read it there. thy providence my life sustain'd, and all my wants redress'd, when in the silent womb i lay, and hung upon the breast. to all my weak complaints and cries thy mercy lent an ear, ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt to form themselves in prayer. unnumber'd comforts to my soul thy tender care bestow'd, before my infant heart conceiv'd from whence these comforts flow'd. when in the slippery paths of youth with heedless steps i ran, thine arm unseen convey'd me safe, and led me up to man. through hidden dangers, toils, and death, it gently clear'd my way; and through the pleasing snares of vice, more to be fear'd than they. when worn with sickness, oft hast thou with health renew'd my face; and when in sins and sorrows sunk, reviv'd my soul with grace. thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss has made my cup run o'er, and in a kind and faithful friend has doubled all my store. ten thousand thousand precious gifts my daily thanks employ; nor is the least a cheerful heart, that tastes those gifts with joy. through every period of my life, thy goodness i'll pursue; and after death, in distant worlds, the glorious theme renew.[ ] when nature fails, and day and night divide thy works no more, my ever-grateful heart, o lord, thy mercy shall adore. through all eternity, to thee a joyful song i'll raise; for, oh! eternity's too short to utter all thy praise. an ode. how are thy servants blest, o lord! how sure is their defence! eternal wisdom is their guide, their help omnipotence. in foreign realms, and lands remote, supported by thy care, through burning climes i pass'd unhurt, and breath'd in tainted air. thy mercy sweeten'd every soil, made every region please; the hoary alpine hills it warm'd, and smooth'd the tyrrhene seas. think, o my soul, devoutly think, how, with affrighted eyes, thou saw'st the wide-extended deep in all its horrors rise. confusion dwelt in every face, and fear in every heart; when waves on waves, and gulphs on gulphs, o'ercame the pilot's art. yet then from all my griefs, o lord, thy mercy set me free; whilst, in the confidence of prayer, my soul took hold on thee. for though in dreadful whirls we hung high on the broken wave, i knew thou wert not slow to hear, nor impotent to save. the storm was laid, the winds retired, obedient to thy will; the sea that roar'd at thy command, at thy command was still. in midst of dangers, fears, and death, thy goodness i'll adore; and praise thee for thy mercies past, and humbly hope for more. my life, if thou preserv'st my life, thy sacrifice shall be; and death, if death must be my doom, shall join my soul to thee. an hymn. when rising from the bed of death, o'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear, i see my maker face to face; o how shall i appear! if yet, while pardon may be found, and mercy may be sought, my heart with inward horror shrinks, and trembles at the thought: when thou, o lord, shalt stand disclos'd in majesty severe, and sit in judgment on my soul; o how shall i appear! but thou hast told the troubled soul, who does her sins lament, the timely tribute of her tears shall endless woe prevent. then see the sorrows of my heart, ere yet it be too late; and add my saviour's dying groans, to give those sorrows weight. for never shall my soul despair her pardon to procure, who knows thy only son has died to make that pardon sure. paraphrase on psalm xxiii. the lord my pasture shall prepare, and feed me with a shepherd's care; his presence shall my wants supply, and guard me with a watchful eye: my noon-day walks he shall attend, and all my midnight hours defend. when in the sultry glebe i faint, or on the thirsty mountain pant; to fertile vales and dewy meads my weary wandering steps he leads: where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, amid the verdant landscape flow. though in the paths of death i tread, with gloomy horrors overspread, my steadfast heart shall fear no ill, for thou, o lord, art with me still; thy friendly crook shall give me aid, and guide me through the dreadful shade. though in a bare and rugged way, through devious lonely wilds i stray, thy bounty shall my wants beguile: the barren wilderness shall smile, with sudden greens and herbage crown'd, and streams shall murmur all around. end of addison's poems. footnotes: [footnote : 'majesty:' king william.] [footnote : 'seneffe:' lost by william to the french in . claverhouse fought with him at this battle.] [footnote : the four last lines of the second and third stanzas were added by mr tate.] [footnote : 'eridanus:' the po.] [footnote : 'such as of late.' see macaulay's 'essay on addison,' and the 'life' in this volume, for an account of this extraordinary tempest.] [footnote : 'tallard,' or tallart: an eminent french marshal, taken prisoner at blenheim; he remained in england for seven years.] [footnote : a comedy written by sir richard steel.] [footnote : a dramatic poem written by the lord lansdown.] [footnote : 'smith:' edmund, commonly called 'rag;' see johnson's 'poets.'] [footnote : 'lyæus:' bacchus.] [footnote : 'princess of wales:' willielinina dorothea carolina of brandenburg-anspach--afterwards caroline, queen of george ii.; she figures in the 'heart of mid-lothian.'] [footnote : 'gloriana:' henrietta maria, queen of charles i. see our edition of waller.] [footnote : 'sir godfrey kneller:' born at lubeck in ; became a painter of portraits; visited england; was knighted by william iii.; died in ; lies in westminster abbey.] [footnote : this refers to a portrait of george i.] [footnote : 'r----:' rich.] [footnote : otherwise, 'thy goodness i'll proclaim;' and, 'resume the glorious theme.' ] the life of john gay. this ingenious poet and child-like man was born, in , at barnstable, in devonshire. his family, who were of norman origin, had long possessed the manor of goldworthy, or holdworthy, which came into their hands through gilbert le gay. he obtained possession of this estate by intermarrying with the family of curtoyse, and gave his name, too, to a place called hampton gay, in northamptonshire. the author of the "fables" was brought up at the free school of barnstable--pope says under one william rayner, who had been educated at westminster school, and who was the author of a volume of latin and english verse, although dr johnson and others maintain that his master's name was luck. on leaving school, gay was bound apprentice to a mercer in london--a trade not the most propitious to poetry, and which he did not long continue to prosecute. in , he published his "rural sports," and dedicated it to pope, who was then rising toward the ascendant, having just published his brilliant tissue of centos, the "essay on criticism." pope was pleased with the honour, and ever afterwards took a deep interest in gay. in the same year gay had been appointed domestic secretary to the duchess of monmouth. this lady was anne scott, the daughter and heiress of the duke of buccleuch, and widow of the well-known and hapless duke of monmouth, who had been beheaded in . she plays a prominent part in the "lay of the last minstrel," and of her a far greater poet than her secretary thus sings:-- "the duchess mark'd his weary pace, his timid mien, and reverend face, and bade her page the menials tell that they should tend the old man well: for she had known adversity, though born in such a high degree; in pride of power, in beauty's bloom, had wept o'er monmouth's bloody tomb." dr johnson says of her, rather sarcastically, that she was "remarkable for her inflexible perseverance in her demand to be treated as a princess." one biographer of gay asserts--but on what authority we know not--that this secretaryship was rewarded with a handsome salary. with her, however, our poet did not long agree. she was scarcely so kind to him as to the "last minstrel" who sung to her at newark. by june th, , (see a letter of arbuthnot's of that date,) she had "turned gay off," having probably been provoked by his indolence of disposition and improvidence of conduct. ere this, however, he had been admitted to the intimacy of pope, and was hired or flattered by him to engage in the famous "battle of the wits," springing from the publication of the "pastorals" of ambrose philips. this agreeable but nearly forgotten writer published some pastorals, which steele, with his usual rashness and fatal favouritism, commended in the "guardian" as superior to all productions of the class, (including pope's,) except those of theocritus, virgil, and spenser. pope retorted in a style of inimitable irony, by a letter to the "guardian," where he professedly gives the preference to philips, but damages his claim by producing four specimens of his composition, and contrasting them with the better portions of his own. not contented with this, he prevailed on gay to satirise philips in the "shepherd's week"--a poem which forms the _reductio ad absurdum_ of that writer's plan, and exhibits rural life in more than the vulgarity and grossness which the author of the "pastorals" had ascribed to it. gay shortly after wrote his "fan," and his "trivia, or the art of walking the streets of london"--the former a mythological fiction, in three books, now entirely and deservedly neglected; the second still worthy of perusal on account of its fidelity to truth, in its pictures of the dirty london of --a fidelity reminding you of crabbe and of swift; indeed, gay is said to have been assisted in "trivia" by the latter, who, we may not uncharitably suppose, supplied the filth of allusion and image which here and there taints the poem. in , our author brought out on the stage a comedy, entitled the "wife of bath," which met with no success, and which, when reproduced seventeen years later, after the "beggars' opera" had taken the town by storm, fell as flat as before. gay had now fairly found his way into the centre of that brilliant circle called the wits of queen anne. that was certainly one of the most varied in intellect and attainment which the world has ever seen. highest far among them--we refer to the tory side--darkled the stern brow of the author of "gulliver's travels," who had a mind cast by nature in a form of naked force, like a gloomy crag without a particle of beauty or any vegetation, save what will grow on the most horrid rocks, and the condition of whose existence there, seems to be that it deepens the desolation--a mind unredeemed by virtue save in the shape of remorse--unvisited by weakness, until it came transmuted into the tiger of madness--whose very sermons were satires on god and man--whose very prayers had a twang of blasphemy--whose loves were more loathsome than his hatreds, and yet over whose blasted might and most miserable and withered heart men mourn, while they shudder, blend tears with anathemas, and agree that the awful mystery of man itself is deepened by its relation to the mystery of the wickedness, remorse, and wretchedness of jonathan swift. superior to him in outward show and splendour, but inferior in real intellect, and, if possible, in moral calibre, shone, although with lurid brilliance, the "fell genius" of st john or henry bolingbroke. in a former paper we said that edmund burke reminded us less of a man than of a tutelar angel; and so we can sometimes think of the "ingrate and cankered bolingbroke," with his subtle intellect, his showy, sophistical eloquence, his power of intrigue, his consummate falsehood, his vice and his infidelity as a "superior fiend"--a kind of human belial-- "in act more graceful than humane: a fairer person lost not heaven: he seem'd for dignity composed and high exploit; but all was false and hollow, though his tongue dropt manna, and could make the worse appear the better reason, to perplex and dash maturest counsels." these two were the giants of the tory confederacy of wits. but little inferior to them in brilliance, if vastly less in intellectual size, was pope, with his epigrammatic style, his compact sense--like stimulating essence contained in small smelling bottles--his pungent personalities, his elegant glitter, and his splendid simulation of moral indignation and moral purpose. less known, but more esteemed than any of them where he was known, was dr arbuthnot--a physician of skill, as some extant medical works prove--a man of science, and author of an "essay on the usefulness of mathematical learning"--a scholar, as evinced by his examination of woodward's "account of the deluge," his treatise on "ancient coins and medals," and that on the "altercation or scolding of the ancients"--a wit, whose grave irony, keen perception of the ridiculous, and magical power of turning the lead of learning into the most fine gold of humour, exhibited in his "martinus scriblerus," his "epitaph on the notorious colonel chartres," and his "history of john bull," still extract shouts, screams, and tears of mirth from thousands who scarce know the author's name--a politician without malice or self-seeking--and, best of all, a man without guile, and a christian without cant. he, although a physician, was in effect the chaplain of the corps, and had enough to do in keeping them within due bounds; nay, is said on his deathbed to have called pope to him, and given him serious advice in reference to the direction of his talents, and the restraint of his muse. prior, though inferior to these, was no common man; and to learning, wit, and tale-telling power, added skill and energy in the conduct of public affairs. and last, (for parnell, though beloved by this circle, could hardly be said to belong to it,) there was gay, whom the others agreed to love and laugh at, who stood in much the same relation to the wits of anne as goldsmith did to those of george iii., being at once their fool and their fondling; who, like goldsmith, was "in wit a man--simplicity a child;" and who though he could not stab and sneer, and create new worlds more laughable than even this, like swift, nor declaim and sap faith, like bolingbroke, nor rhyme and glitter like pope, nor discourse on medals and write comical "pilgrims' progresses" like arbuthnot, nor pour out floods of learning like prior in "alma," could do things which they in their turn never equalled, (even as in emerson's poem, "the mountain and the squirrel," the latter wisely remarks to the former-- "i cannot carry forests on my back, but neither can you crack a nut,") could give a fabulous excellence to the construction and management of the "fable;" extract interest from street crossings and scavengers, and let fly into the literary atmosphere an immortal opera, the "beggars'," which, though feathered by the moultings of the very basest night-birds, has pursued a career of triumph ever since. to recur to the life of our poet. losing his situation under the duchess of monmouth, he was patronised by the earls of oxford and bolingbroke, and through them was appointed secretary to the earl of clarendon, who was going to hanover as ambassador to that court. he was at this time so poor that, in order to equip himself with necessaries, such as shoes, stockings, and linen for the journey, he had to receive an advance of £ from the treasury at hanover. the electoral princess, afterwards queen caroline--wife of george ii.--took some notice of gay, and asked for a volume of his "poems," when, as arbuthnot remarks, "like a true poet," he was compelled to own that he had no copy in his possession. we suspect few poets, whether true or pretended, in our age would in this point resemble gay. lord clarendon's embassy lasted precisely fifteen days--queen anne having died in the meantime--and the tory government being consequently dismissed in disgrace. poor gay, who had offended the whigs by dedicating his "shepherd's week" to bolingbroke, came home in a worse plight than before. he had left england in a state of poverty--he returned to it in a state of proscription--although he perhaps felt comforted by an epistle of welcome from pope, which did not, it is likely, affect him as it does us with the notion that its tricksy author was laughing in his sleeve. arbuthnot, who was a wiser friend, advised gay to write an "epistle on the arrival of the princess of wales," which he did, and she and her lord were so far conciliated as to attend a play he now produced, entitled "what d'ye call it?"--a kind of hybrid between a farce and a tragedy--which, by the well-managed equivoque of its purpose, hit the house between wind and water; and not knowing "what" properly to "call it," and whether it should be applauded or damned, they gave the benefit of their doubts to the author. to its success, doubtless too, the presence and praise of the prince and the princess contributed. gay now tried for a while the trade of a courtier--sooth to say, with little success. he was for this at once too sanguine and too simple. pope said, with his usual civil sneer, in a letter to swift, "the doctor (arbuthnot) goes to cards--gay to court; the one loses money, the other time." it added to his chagrin, that having, in conjunction with pope and arbuthnot, produced, in , a comedy, entitled "three months after marriage," to satirise dr woodward, then famous as a fossilist; the piece, being personal and indecent, was not only hissed but hooted off the stage. the chief offence was taken at the introduction of a mummy and a crocodile on the stage. to divert his grief, he, at the suggestion of lord burlington, who paid his expenses, rambled into devonshire, went next with pultney to aix, in france, and when afterwards on a visit to lord harcourt's seat, witnessed the incident of the two country lovers killed by lightning in each other's arms, to which pope alludes in one of his letters, and goldsmith in his "vicar of wakefield." in he published his "poems" by subscription. the general kindness felt for gay, notwithstanding his faults and feebleness, now found a vent. the prince and princess of wales not only subscribed, but gave him a liberal present, and some of the nobility, who regarded him as an agreeable plaything and lapdog of genius, took a number of copies. the result was that he gained a thousand pounds. he asked the advice of his friends how to dispose of this sum, and, as usual, took his own. lewis, steward to lord oxford, advised him to entrust it to the funds, and live on the interest; arbuthnot, to live upon the principal; pope and swift, to buy an annuity. gay preferred to sink it in the south-sea bubble, then in all its glory. at first he imagined himself master of £ , , and when advised to sell out and purchase as much as his wise friend elijah fenton said would "procure him a clean shirt and a shoulder of mutton every day," rejected the counsel, and in fine lost every farthing, and nearly lost next, through vexation, either his life or his reason. pope, who occasionally laughed at him, was now very kind, and partly through his assiduous attention, gay recovered his health, spirits, and the use of his pen. he wrote a tragedy called the "captives," and was invited to read it before the princess of wales. the sight of her and her assembled ladies frightened him, and in advancing he stumbled over a stool and overthrew a heavy japan screen. how he fared afterwards in the reading we are not informed; but as we are told that the princess started and her ladies screamed, we fear it had been poorly. on this story hawkesworth has founded an amusing story in the "adventurer," and it was also, we think, in the eye of the author of the humorous tale, entitled "the bashful man." this unlucky play was afterwards acted seven nights, the author's third night being under the special patronage of her royal highness. at the request of the same illustrious lady, he, in , undertook to write a volume of "fables" for the young duke of cumberland, afterwards of culloden notoriety, and when at last, in , the prince became george ii., and the princess queen caroline, gay's hopes of promotion boiled as high as his hopes of gain had during the south-sea scheme. but here, too, he was deceived; and having only received the paltry appointment (as he deemed it, though the salary was £ ,) of gentleman-usher to the princess louisa, a girl of two years old, he thought himself insulted. he first sent a message to the queen that he was too old for the place,--an excuse which he made for himself, but which, being only thirty-nine, he would not have borne any other to make for him. he next condescended to court mrs howard, the mistress of george ii., and that "good howard" commemorated in the "heart of mid-lothian;" but this too was in vain, and then he retired from the attempt, growling out probably (if we can imagine him in fable, not as queen caroline called him the "hare," but a bear) the words, "put not your faith in princes." he was the more excusable, as, two years before, sir robert walpole had, for his surmised toryism, turned him out of the office of "commissioner of the lottery," which had brought him in £ a-year. but now for once gay catches fortune on the wheel. there is a lucky hour in almost all lives, provided it be waited for with patience, and with prudence improved. swift had some years before observed to gay, what an odd pretty sort of thing a newgate pastoral would make. on this hint gay acted, preferring, however, to expand it into a comedy. hence came the "beggars' opera," a hit in literature second to none that ever occurred in that fluctuating region. it was first performed in , although much of it had been written before, and only a few satirical strokes, founded on his disappointment at court, attested their recent origin. swift and pope watched its progress with interest, but without hope. congreve pronounced that it would "either take greatly, or be damned confoundedly." gibber at drury lane refused it; it was accepted by his rival rich, and soon the _on dit_ ran that it had made gay rich, and rich gay. on its first night there was a brilliant assemblage. what painter shall give their heads and faces on that anxious evening--swift's lowering front--pope's bright eyes contrasting with the blind orbs of congreve (if _he_ indeed were there)--addison's quiet, thoughtful physiognomy, as of one retired into some "vision of mirza"--the duke of argyle, with his star and stately form and animated countenance--and poor gay himself perhaps, like some other play-wrights in the same predicament, perspiring with trepidation, as if again about to recite the "captives!" at first uncertainty prevails among the patron-critics, and strange looks are exchanged between swift and pope, till, by and by, the latter hears argyle exclaim, "it will do, it must do! i see it in the eyes of 'em;" and then the critics breathe freely, and the applauses become incontrollable, and the curtain closes at last amidst thunders of applause; and gay goes home triumphant, amidst a circle of friends, who do not know whether more to wonder at his success or at their own previous apprehensions. for sixty-three nights continuously the piece is acted in london; then it spreads through england, scotland, wales, and ireland. ladies sing its favourite songs, or carry them in their fans. miss fenton, who acted polly, becomes a universal favourite, nay, a _furor_. her pictures are engraved, her life written, and her sayings and jests published, and in fine, the italian opera, which the piece was intended to ridicule, is extinguished for a season. notwithstanding this unparalleled success of the "beggars' opera," gay gained only £ by it, although by "polly," the second part, (where gay transports his characters to the colonies,) which the lord chamberlain suppressed, on account of its supposed immoral tendency, and which the author published in self-defence, he cleared nearly £ . altogether now worth above £ , having been admitted by the duke of queensberry into his house, who generously undertook the care alike of the helpless being's purse and person, and still in the prime of life, gay might have looked forward, humanly speaking, to long years of comfort, social happiness, and increased fame. _dîs aliter visum est_. he had been delicate for some time, and on the th december , at the age of , and in the course of a three days' attack of inflammation of the bowels, this irresolute but amiable and gifted person breathed his last, and was buried in westminster abbey. the last work he was occupied on was a second volume of "fables," which was published after his death. he had become very popular, not merely for his powers, but for his presumed political principles, a "little sacheverel," as arbuthnot, his faithful friend and kind physician, calls him, and yet his modesty and simplicity of character remained entire, and he died while planning schemes of self-reformation, economy, and steady literary work. it is curious that swift, when the letter arrived with the news of gay's death, was so impressed with a presentiment of some coming evil, that he allowed it to lie five days unopened on his table. and when the duke and duchess of queensberry erected a monument to his memory, pope supplied an epitaph, familiar to most readers of poetry, and which is creditable to both. two widow sisters survived gay, amongst whom the profits of a posthumous opera, entitled "achilles," as well as the small fortune which he left, were divided. gay's works lie in narrow compass, and hardly require minute criticism. his "beggars' opera" has the charm of daring singularity of plan, of great liveliness of song, and has some touches of light hurrying sarcasm, worthy of any pen. burke used to deny its merit, but he was probably trying it b too lofty and ideal a standard. hazlitt, on the other hand, has praised it overmuch, and perhaps "monstered" some of its "nothings." that it has power is proved by its effects on literature. it did not, we believe, create many robbers, but it created a large robber school in the drama and the novel; for instance, schiller's "robbers," ainsworth's "rookwood," and "jack shepherd," and bulwer's "paul clifford," and "eugene aram," not to speak of the innumerable french tales and plays of a similar kind. the intention of these generally is not, perhaps, after all, to make an apology, far less an apotheosis of crime, but to teach us how there is a "soul of goodness" in all things. and has not shakspeare long taught and been commended for teaching a similar lesson, although we cannot say of gay and his brethren that they have "bettered the instruction?" of "trivia," we have spoken incidentally before; of "rural sports," and the "shepherd's week," it is unnecessary to say more than that the first is juvenile, and the second odd, graphic, and amusing. none of them is equal to the "fables," and therefore we have decided on omitting them from our edition. in the "fables," gay is happy in proportion to the innocence and simplicity of his nature. he understands animals, because he has more than an ordinary share of the animal in his own constitution. Æsop, so far as we know, though an astute, was an uneducated and simple-minded man. phædrus was a myth, and we cannot, therefore, adduce him in point. but fontaine was called the "fable-tree," and gay is just the fable-tree transplanted from france to england. in so doing we do not question our poet's originality, but merely indicate a certain resemblance in spirit between two originals. an original in fable-writing gay certainly was. he has copied, neither in story, spirit, nor moral, any previous writer. his "fables" are always graceful in literary execution, often interesting in story; their versification is ever smooth and flowing; and sometimes, as in the "court of death," their moral darkens into sublimity. on the whole, these "fables," along with the "beggars' opera," and the delectable songs of "'twas when the seas were roaring," and "black-eyed susan," shall long preserve the memory of their author. we have appended these two songs because of their rare excellence. john gay had his faults as a man and as a poet, and it were easy finding fault with him in both capacities. but "poor were the triumph o'er the timid hare;" and he was, by his own shewing, as well as queen caroline's, "the hare with many friends." let us, instead, drop a "tear over his fate," and pay a tribute, short, but sincere, to his true, though limited genius. gay's fables. * * * * * introduction. part i. the shepherd and the philosopher. remote from cities lived a swain, unvexed with all the cares of gain; his head was silvered o'er with age, and long experience made him sage; in summer's heat, and winter's cold, he fed his flock and penned the fold; his hours in cheerful labour flew, nor envy nor ambition knew: his wisdom and his honest fame through all the country raised his name. _ a deep philosopher (whose rules of moral life were drawn from schools) the shepherd's homely cottage sought and thus explored his reach of thought: 'whence is thy learning? hath thy toil o'er books consumed the midnight oil? hast thou old greece and rome surveyed, and the vast sense of plato weighed? hath socrates thy soul refined, and hast thou fathomed tully's mind? _ or like the wise ulysses, thrown by various fates, on realms unknown, hast thou through many cities strayed, their customs, laws, and manners weighed?' the shepherd modestly replied, 'i ne'er the paths of learning tried; nor have i roamed in foreign parts to read mankind, their laws and arts; for man is practised in disguise, he cheats the most discerning eyes; _ who by that search shall wiser grow, when we ourselves can never know? the little knowledge i have gained, was all from simple nature drained; hence my life's maxims took their rise, hence grew my settled hate to vice. the daily labours of the bee awake my soul to industry. who can observe the careful ant, and not provide for future want? _ my dog (the trustiest of his kind) with gratitude inflames my mind. i mark his true, his faithful way, and in my service copy tray. in constancy and nuptial love, i learn my duty from the dove. the hen, who from the chilly air, with pious wing protects her care; and every fowl that flies at large, instructs me in a parent's charge. _ from nature too i take my rule, to shun contempt and ridicule. i never, with important air, in conversation overbear. can grave and formal pass for wise, when men the solemn owl despise? my tongue within my lips i rein; for who talks much, must talk in vain. we from the wordy torrent fly: who listens to the chattering pye? _ nor would i, with felonious flight, by stealth invade my neighbour's right; rapacious animals we hate: kites, hawks, and wolves deserve their fate. do not we just abhorrence find against the toad and serpent kind? but envy, calumny, and spite, bear stronger venom in their bite. thus every object of creation can furnish hints to contemplation; _ and from the most minute and mean, a virtuous mind can morals glean.' 'thy fame is just,' the sage replies; 'thy virtue proves thee truly wise. pride often guides the author's pen, books as affected are as men: but he who studies nature's laws, from certain truth his maxims draws; and those, without our schools, suffice to make men moral, good, and wise.' _ * * * * * to his highness william, duxe of cumberland.[ ] fable i. the lion, the tiger, and the traveller. accept, young prince, the moral lay and in these tales mankind survey; with early virtues plant your breast, the specious arts of vice detest. princes, like beauties, from their youth are strangers to the voice of truth; learn to contemn all praise betimes; for flattery's the nurse of crimes; friendship by sweet reproof is shown, (a virtue never near a throne); _ in courts such freedom must offend, there none presumes to be a friend. to those of your exalted station each courtier is a dedication. must i too flatter like the rest, and turn my morals to a jest? the muse disdains to steal from those who thrive in courts by fulsome prose. but shall i hide your real praise, or tell you what a nation says? _ they in your infant bosom trace the virtues of your royal race; in the fair dawning of your mind discern you generous, mild, and kind; they see you grieve to hear distress, and pant already to redress. go on, the height of good attain, nor let a nation hope in vain. for hence we justly may presage the virtues of a riper age. _ true courage shall your bosom fire, and future actions own you sire. cowards are cruel, but the brave love mercy, and delight to save. a tiger roaming for his prey, sprung on a traveller in the way; the prostrate game a lion spies, and on the greedy tyrant flies; with mingled roar resounds the wood, their teeth, their claws distil with blood; _ till vanquished by the lion's strength, the spotted foe extends his length. the man besought the shaggy lord, and on his knees for life implored. his life the generous hero gave, together walking to his cave, the lion thus bespoke his guest: 'what hardy beast shall dare contest my matchless strength! you saw the fight, and must attest my power and right. _ forced to forego their native home, my starving slaves at distance roam. within these woods i reign alone, the boundless forest is my own. bears, wolves, and all the savage brood, have dyed the regal den with blood. these carcases on either hand, those bones that whiten all the land, my former deeds and triumphs tell, beneath these jaws what numbers fell.' _ 'true,' says the man, 'the strength i saw might well the brutal nation awe: but shall a monarch, brave like you, place glory in so false a view? robbers invade their neighbours' right, be loved: let justice bound your might. mean are ambitious heroes' boasts of wasted lands and slaughtered hosts. pirates their power by murders gain, wise kings by love and mercy reign. _ to me your clemency hath shown the virtue worthy of a throne. heaven gives you power above the rest, like heaven to succour the distress'd.' 'the case is plain,' the monarch said; 'false glory hath my youth misled; for beasts of prey, a servile train, have been the flatterers of my reign. you reason well: yet tell me, friend, did ever you in courts attend? _ for all my fawning rogues agree, that human heroes rule like me.' * * * * * fable ii. the spaniel and the cameleon. a spaniel, bred with all the care that waits upon a favourite heir, ne'er felt correction's rigid hand; indulged to disobey command, in pampered ease his hours were spent; he never knew what learning meant. such forward airs, so pert, so smart, were sure to win his lady's heart; each little mischief gained him praise; how pretty were his fawning ways! _ the wind was south, the morning fair, he ventured forth to take the air. he ranges all the meadow round, and rolls upon the softest ground: when near him a cameleon seen, was scarce distinguished from the green. 'dear emblem of the flattering host, what, live with clowns! a genius lost! to cities and the court repair: a fortune cannot fail thee there: _ preferment shall thy talents crown, believe me, friend; i know the town.' 'sir,' says the sycophant, 'like you, of old, politer life i knew: like you, a courtier born and bred; kings leaned an ear to what i said. my whisper always met success; the ladies praised me for address, i knew to hit each courtier's passion, and flattered every vice in fashion. _ but jove, who hates the liar's ways, at once cut short my prosperous days; and, sentenced to retain my nature, transformed me to this crawling creature. doomed to a life obscure and mean, i wander in the sylvan scene. for jove the heart alone regards; he punishes what man rewards. how different is thy case and mine! with men at least you sup and dine; _ while i, condemned to thinnest fare, like those i flattered feed on air.' * * * * * fable iii. the mother, the nurse, and the fairy. give me a son! the blessing sent, were ever parents more content? how partial are their doting eyes! no child is half so fair and wise. waked to the morning's pleasing care, the mother rose, and sought her heir. she saw the nurse, like one possess'd, with wringing hands, and sobbing breast. 'sure some disaster hath befell: speak, nurse; i hope the boy is well.' _ 'dear madam, think not me to blame; invisible the fairy came: your precious babe is hence conveyed, and in the place a changeling laid. where are the father's mouth and nose, the mother's eyes, as black as sloes? see here a shocking awkward creature, that speaks a fool in every feature.' 'the woman's blind,' the mother cries; 'i see wit sparkle in his eyes.' _ 'lord! madam, what a squinting leer; no doubt the fairy hath been here.' just as she spoke, a pigmy sprite pops through the key-hole, swift as light; perched on the cradle's top he stands, and thus her folly reprimands: 'whence sprung the vain conceited lie, that we the world with fools supply? what! give our sprightly race away, for the dull helpless sons of clay! _ besides, by partial fondness shown, like you we doat upon our own. where yet was ever found a mother, who'd give her booby for another? and should we change for human breed, well might we pass for fools indeed.' * * * * * fable iv. the eagle, and the assembly of animals. as jupiter's all-seeing eye surveyed the worlds beneath the sky, from this small speck of earth were sent, murmurs and sounds of discontent; for every thing alive complained, that he the hardest life sustained. jove calls his eagle. at the word before him stands the royal bird. the bird, obedient, from heaven's height, downward directs his rapid flight; _ then cited every living thing, to hear the mandates of his king. 'ungrateful creatures, whence arise these murmurs which offend the skies? why this disorder? say the cause: for just are jove's eternal laws. let each his discontent reveal; to yon sour dog, i first appeal.' 'hard is my lot,' the hound replies, 'on what fleet nerves the greyhound flies, _ while i, with weary step and slow, o'er plains and vales, and mountains go. the morning sees my chase begun, nor ends it till the setting sun.' 'when,' says the greyhound, 'i pursue, my game is lost, or caught in view; beyond my sight the prey's secure: the hound is slow, but always sure. and had i his sagacious scent, jove ne'er had heard my discontent.' _ the lion craved the fox's art; the fox, the lion's force and heart: the cock implored the pigeon's flight, whose wings were rapid, strong, and light: the pigeon strength of wing despised, and the cock's matchless valour prized: the fishes wished to graze the plain; the beasts to skim beneath the main. thus, envious of another's state, each blamed the partial hand of fate. _ the bird of heaven then cried aloud, 'jove bids disperse the murmuring crowd; the god rejects your idle prayers. would ye, rebellious mutineers, entirely change your name and nature, and be the very envied creature? what, silent all, and none consent! be happy then, and learn content: nor imitate the restless mind, and proud ambition, of mankind.' _ * * * * * fable v. the wild boar and the ram. against an elm a sheep was tied, the butcher's knife in blood was dyed: the patient flock in silent fright, from far beheld the horrid sight. a savage boar, who near them stood, thus mocked to scorn the fleecy brood. 'all cowards should be served like you. see, see, your murderer is in view: with purple hands and reeking knife, he strips the skin yet warm with life; _ your quartered sires, your bleeding dams, the dying bleat of harmless lambs, call for revenge. o stupid race! the heart that wants revenge is base.' 'i grant.' an ancient ram replies, 'we bear no terror in our eyes; yet think us not of soul so tame, which no repeated wrongs inflame; insensible of every ill, because we want thy tusks to kill. _ know, those who violence pursue, give to themselves the vengeance due; for in these massacres we find the two chief plagues that waste mankind: our skin supplies the wrangling bar, it wakes their slumbering sons to war; and well revenge may rest contented, since drums and parchment were invented.' * * * * * fable vi. the miser and plutus. the wind was high, the window shakes, with sudden start the miser wakes; along the silent room he stalks; looks back, and trembles as he walks! each lock and every bolt he tries, in every creek and corner prys, then opes the chest with treasure stored, and stands in rapture o'er his hoard; but, now with sudden qualms possess'd, he wrings his hands, he beats his breast. _ by conscience stung, he wildly stares; and thus his guilty soul declares: 'had the deep earth her stores confined, this heart had known sweet peace of mind. but virtue's sold. good gods, what price can recompense the pangs of vice! o bane of good! seducing cheat! can man, weak man, thy power defeat? gold banished honour from the mind, and only left the name behind; _ gold sowed the world with every ill; gold taught the murderer's sword to kill: 'twas gold instructed coward hearts, in treachery's more pernicious arts. who can recount the mischiefs o'er? virtue resides on earth no more!' he spoke, and sighed. in angry mood, plutus, his god, before him stood. the miser, trembling, locked his chest; the vision frowned, and thus address'd: _ 'whence is this vile ungrateful rant? each sordid rascal's daily cant. did i, base wretch, corrupt mankind? the fault's in thy rapacious mind. because my blessings are abused, must i be censured, cursed, accused? even virtue's self by knaves is made a cloak to carry on the trade; and power (when lodged in their possession) grows tyranny, and rank oppression. _ thus, when the villain crams his chest, gold is the canker of the breast; 'tis avarice, insolence, and pride, and every shocking vice beside. but when to virtuous hands 'tis given, it blesses, like the dews of heaven: like heaven, it hears the orphan's cries, and wipes the tears from widows' eyes; their crimes on gold shall misers lay, who pawned their sordid souls for pay? _ let bravoes then (when blood is spilt) upbraid the passive sword with guilt.' * * * * * fable vii. the lion, the fox, and the geese. a lion, tired with state affairs, quite sick of pomp, and worn with cares, resolved (remote from noise and strife) in peace to pass his latter life. it was proclaimed; the day was set; behold the general council met, the fox was viceroy named. the crowd to the new regent humbly bowed. wolves, bears, and mighty tigers bend, and strive who most shall condescend. _ he straight assumes a solemn grace, collects his wisdom in his face. the crowd admire his wit, his sense: each word hath weight and consequence. the flatterer all his art displays: he who hath power, is sure of praise. a fox stept forth before the rest, and thus the servile throng address'd. 'how vast his talents, born to rule, and trained in virtue's honest school: _ what clemency his temper sways! how uncorrupt are all his ways! beneath his conduct and command, rapine shall cease to waste the land. his brain hath stratagem and art; prudence and mercy rule his heart; what blessings must attend the nation under this good administration!' he said. a goose who distant stood, harangued apart the cackling brood: _ 'w'hene'er i hear a knave commend, he bids me shun his worthy friend. what praise! what mighty commendation! but 'twas a fox who spoke the oration. foxes this government may prize, as gentle, plentiful, and wise; if they enjoy the sweets, 'tis plain we geese must feel a tyrant reign. what havoc now shall thin our race, when every petty clerk in place, _ to prove his taste and seem polite, will feed on geese both noon and night!' * * * * * fable viii. the lady and the wasp. what whispers must the beauty bear! what hourly nonsense haunts her ear! where'er her eyes dispense their charms, impertinence around her swarms. did not the tender nonsense strike, contempt and scorn might soon dislike. forbidding airs might thin the place, the slightest flap a fly can chase. but who can drive the numerous breed? chase one, another will succeed. _ who knows a fool, must know his brother; one fop will recommend another: and with this plague she's rightly curs'd, because she listened to the first. as doris, at her toilet's duty, sat meditating on her beauty, she now was pensive, now was gay, and lolled the sultry hours away. as thus in indolence she lies, a giddy wasp around her flies. _ he now advances, now retires, now to her neck and cheek aspires. her fan in vain defends her charms; swift he returns, again alarms; for by repulse he bolder grew, perched on her lip, and sipp'd the dew. she frowns, she frets. 'good god!' she cries, 'protect me from these teasing flies! of all the plagues that heaven hath sent, a wasp is most impertinent.' _ the hovering insect thus complained: 'am i then slighted, scorned, disdained? can such offence your anger wake? 'twas beauty caused the bold mistake. those cherry lips that breathe perfume, that cheek so ripe with youthful bloom, made me with strong desire pursue the fairest peach that ever grew.' 'strike him not, jenny,' doris cries, 'nor murder wasps like vulgar flies: _ for though he's free (to do him right) the creature's civil and polite.' in ecstacies away he posts; where'er he came, the favour boasts; brags how her sweetest tea he sips, and shows the sugar on his lips. the hint alarmed the forward crew; sure of success, away they flew. they share the dainties of the day, round her with airy music play; _ and now they flutter, now they rest, now soar again, and skim her breast. nor were they banished, till she found that wasps have stings, and felt the wound. * * * * * fable ix. the bull and the mastiff. seek you to train your fav'rite boy? each caution, every care employ: and ere you venture to confide, let his preceptor's heart be tried: weigh well his manners, life, and scope; on these depends thy future hope. as on a time, in peaceful reign, a bull enjoyed the flowery plain, a mastiff passed; inflamed with ire, his eye-balls shot indignant fire; _ he foamed, he raged with thirst of blood spurning the ground the monarch stood, and roared aloud, 'suspend the fight; in a whole skin go sleep to-night: or tell me, ere the battle rage, what wrongs provoke thee to engage? is it ambition fires thy breast, or avarice that ne'er can rest? from these alone unjustly springs the world-destroying wrath of kings.' _ the surly mastiff thus returns: 'within my bosom glory burns. like heroes of eternal name, whom poets sing, i fight for fame. the butcher's spirit-stirring mind to daily war my youth inclined; he trained me to heroic deed; taught me to conquer, or to bleed.' 'cursed dog,' the bull replied, 'no more i wonder at thy thirst of gore; _ for thou, beneath a butcher trained, whose hands with cruelty are stained; his daily murders in thy view, must, like thy tutor, blood pursue. take then thy fate.' with goring wound, at once he lifts him from the ground; aloft the sprawling hero flies, mangled he falls, he howls, and dies. * * * * * fable x. the elephant and the bookseller. the man who, with undaunted toils, sails unknown seas to unknown soils, with various wonders feasts his sight: what stranger wonders does he write! we read, and in description view creatures which adam never knew: for, when we risk no contradiction, it prompts the tongue to deal in fiction. those things that startle me or you, i grant are strange; yet may be true. _ who doubts that elephants are found for science and for sense renowned? borri records their strength of parts, extent of thought, and skill in arts; how they perform the law's decrees, and save the state the hangman's fees; and how by travel understand the language of another land. let those, who question this report, to pliny's ancient page resort; _ how learn'd was that sagacious breed! who now (like them) the greek can read! as one of these, in days of yore, rummaged a shop of learning o'er; not, like our modern dealers, minding only the margin's breadth and binding; a book his curious eye detains, where, with exactest care and pains, were every beast and bird portrayed, that e'er the search of man surveyed, _ their natures and their powers were writ, with all the pride of human wit. the page he with attention spread, and thus remarked on what he read: 'man with strong reason is endowed; a beast scarce instinct is allowed. but let this author's worth be tried, 'tis plain that neither was his guide. can he discern the different natures, and weigh the power of other creatures _ who by the partial work hath shown he knows so little of his own? how falsely is the spaniel drawn! did man from him first learn to fawn? a dog proficient in the trade! he the chief flatterer nature made! go, man, the ways of courts discern, you'll find a spaniel still might learn. how can the fox's theft and plunder provoke his censure or his wonder; _ from courtiers' tricks, and lawyers' arts, the fox might well improve his parts. the lion, wolf, and tiger's brood, he curses, for their thirst of blood: but is not man to man a prey? beasts kill for hunger, men for pay.' the bookseller, who heard him speak, and saw him turn a page of greek, thought, what a genius have i found! then thus addressed with bow profound: _ 'learn'd sir, if you'd employ your pen against the senseless sons of men, or write the history of siam, [ ] no man is better pay than i am; or, since you're learn'd in greek, let's see something against the trinity.' when wrinkling with a sneer his trunk, 'friend,' quoth the elephant, 'you're drunk; e'en keep your money and be wise: leave man on man to criticise; _ for that you ne'er can want a pen among the senseless sons of men. they unprovoked will court the fray: envy's a sharper spur than pay. no author ever spared a brother; wits are game-cocks to one another.' * * * * * fable xi. the peacock, the turkey, and the goose. in beauty faults conspicuous grow; the smallest speck is seen on snow. as near a barn, by hunger led, a peacock with the poultry fed; all viewed him with an envious eye, and mocked his gaudy pageantry. he, conscious of superior merit, contemns their base reviling spirit; his state and dignity assumes, and to the sun displays his plumes; _ which, like the heaven's o'er-arching skies, are spangled with a thousand eyes. the circling rays, and varied light, at once confound their dazzled sight: on every tongue detraction burns, and malice prompts their spleen by turns. 'mark, with what insolence and pride the creature takes his haughty stride!' the turkey cries. 'can spleen contain? sure never bird was half so vain! _ but were intrinsic merit seen, we turkeys have the whiter skin.' from tongue to tongue they caught abuse; and next was heard the hissing goose: 'what hideous legs! what filthy claws! i scorn to censure little flaws! then what a horrid squalling throat! even owls are frighted at the note.' 'true; those are faults,' the peacock cries; 'my scream, my shanks you may despise: _ but such blind critics rail in vain: what, overlook my radiant train! know, did my legs (your scorn and sport) the turkey or the goose support, and did ye scream with harsher sound, those faults in you had ne'er been found! to all apparent beauties blind, each blemish strikes an envious mind.' thus in assemblies have i seen a nymph of brightest charms and mien, _ wake envy in each ugly face; and buzzing scandal fills the place. * * * * * fable xii. cupid, hymen, and plutus. as cupid in cythera's grove employed the lesser powers of love; some shape the bow, or fit the string; some give the taper shaft its wing, or turn the polished quiver's mould, or head the dart with tempered gold. amidst their toil and various care, thus hymen, with assuming air, addressed the god: 'thou purblind chit, of awkward and ill-judging wit, _ if matches are not better made, at once i must forswear my trade. you send me such ill-coupled folks, that 'tis a shame to sell them yokes. they squabble for a pin, a feather, and wonder how they came together. the husband's sullen, dogged, shy; the wife grows flippant in reply: he loves command and due restriction, and she as well likes contradiction: _ she never slavishly submits; she'll have her will, or have her fits. he this way tugs, she t'other draws: the man grows jealous, and with cause. nothing can save him but divorce; and here the wife complies of course.' 'when,' says the boy, 'had i to do with either your affairs or you? i never idly spent my darts; you trade in mercenary hearts. _ for settlements the lawyer's fee'd; is my hand witness to the deed? if they like cat and dog agree, go, rail at plutus, not at me.' plutus appeared, and said, ''tis true, in marriage gold is all their view: they seek not beauty, wit, or sense; and love is seldom the pretence. all offer incense at my shrine, and i alone the bargain sign. _ how can belinda blame her fate? she only asked a great estate. doris was rich enough, 'tis true; her lord must give her title too: and every man, or rich or poor, a fortune asks, and asks no more.' av'rice, whatever shape it bears, must still be coupled with its cares. * * * * * fable xiii. the tame stag. as a young stag the thicket pass'd, the branches held his antlers fast; a clown, who saw the captive hung, across the horns his halter flung. now safely hampered in the cord, he bore the present to his lord. his lord was pleased; as was the clown, when he was tipp'd with half-a-crown. the stag was brought before his wife; the tender lady begged his life. _ 'how sleek's the skin! how speck'd like ermine! sure never creature was so charming!' at first within the yard confined, he flies and hides from all mankind; now bolder grown, with fixed amaze, and distant awe, presumes to gaze; munches the linen on the lines, and on a hood or apron dines: he steals my little master's bread, follows the servants to be fed: _ nearer and nearer now he stands, to feel the praise of patting hands; examines every fist for meat, and though repulsed, disdains retreat: attacks again with levelled horns; and man, that was his terror, scorns. such is the country maiden's fright, when first a red-coat is in sight; behind the door she hides her face; next time at distance eyes the lace; _ she now can all his terrors stand, nor from his squeeze withdraws her hand. she plays familiar in his arms, and every soldier hath his charms. from tent to tent she spreads her flame; for custom conquers fear and shame. * * * * * fable xiv. the monkey who had seen the world. a monkey, to reform the times, resolved to visit foreign climes: for men in distant regions roam to bring politer manners home, so forth he fares, all toil defies: misfortune serves to make us wise. at length the treach'rous snare was laid; poor pug was caught, to town conveyed, there sold. how envied was his doom, made captive in a lady's room! _ proud as a lover of his chains, he day by day her favour gains. whene'er the duty of the day the toilet calls; with mimic play he twirls her knot, he cracks her fan, like any other gentleman. in visits too his parts and wit, when jests grew dull, were sure to hit. proud with applause, he thought his mind in every courtly art refined; _ like orpheus burnt with public zeal, to civilise the monkey weal: so watched occasion, broke his chain, and sought his native woods again. the hairy sylvans round him press, astonished at his strut and dress. some praise his sleeve; and others gloat upon his rich embroidered coat; his dapper periwig commending, with the black tail behind depending; _ his powdered back, above, below, like hoary frost, or fleecy snow; but all with envy and desire, his fluttering shoulder-knot admire. 'hear and improve,' he pertly cries; 'i come to make a nation wise. weigh your own words; support your place, the next in rank to human race. in cities long i passed my days, conversed with men, and learnt their ways. _ their dress, their courtly manners see; reform your state and copy me. seek ye to thrive? in flattery deal; your scorn, your hate, with that conceal. seem only to regard your friends, but use them for your private ends. stint not to truth the flow of wit; be prompt to lie whene'er 'tis fit. bend all your force to spatter merit; scandal is conversation's spirit. _ boldly to everything attend, and men your talents shall commend. i knew the great. observe me right; so shall you grow like man polite.' he spoke and bowed. with muttering jaws the wondering circle grinned applause. now, warm with malice, envy, spite, their most obliging friends they bite; and fond to copy human ways, practise new mischiefs all their days. _ thus the dull lad, too tall for school, with travel finishes the fool; studious of every coxcomb's airs, he drinks, games, dresses, whores, and swears; o'erlooks with scorn all virtuous arts, for vice is fitted to his parts. * * * * * fable xv. the philosopher and the pheasants. the sage, awaked at early day, through the deep forest took his way; drawn by the music of the groves, along the winding gloom he roves: from tree to tree, the warbling throats prolong the sweet alternate notes. but where he pass'd, he terror threw, the song broke short, the warblers flew; the thrushes chattered with affright, and nightingales abhorred his sight; _ all animals before him ran, to shun the hateful sight of man. 'whence is this dread of every creature? fly they our figure or our nature?' as thus he walked in musing thought, his ear imperfect accents caught; with cautious step he nearer drew, by the thick shade concealed from view. high on the branch a pheasant stood, around her all her listening brood; _ proud of the blessings of her nest, she thus a mother's care expressed: 'no dangers here shall circumvent, within the woods enjoy content. sooner the hawk or vulture trust, than man; of animals the worst: in him ingratitude you find, a vice peculiar to the kind. the sheep whose annual fleece is dyed, to guard his health, and serve his pride, _ forced from his fold and native plain, is in the cruel shambles slain. the swarms, who, with industrious skill, his hives with wax and honey fill, in vain whole summer days employed, their stores are sold, their race destroyed. what tribute from the goose is paid! does not her wing all science aid! does it not lovers' hearts explain, and drudge to raise the merchant's gain? _ what now rewards this general use? he takes the quills, and eats the goose. man then avoid, detest his ways; so safety shall prolong your days. when services are thus acquitted, be sure we pheasants must be spitted.' * * * * * fable xvi. the pin and the needle. a pin, who long had served a beauty, proficient in the toilet's duty, had formed her sleeve, confined her hair, or given her knot a smarter air, now nearest to her heart was placed, now in her mantua's tail disgraced: but could she partial fortune blame, who saw her lovers served the same? at length from all her honours cast; through various turns of life she pass'd; _ now glittered on a tailor's arm; now kept a beggar's infant warm; now, ranged within a miser's coat, contributes to his yearly groat; now, raised again from low approach, she visits in the doctor's coach; here, there, by various fortune toss'd, at last in gresham hall[ ] was lost. charmed with the wonders of the show, on every side, above, below, _ she now of this or that enquires, what least was understood admires. 'tis plain, each thing so struck her mind. her head's of virtuoso kind. 'and pray what's this, and this, dear sir?' 'a needle,' says the interpreter. she knew the name. and thus the fool addressed her as a tailor's tool: 'a needle with that filthy stone, quite idle, all with rust o'ergrown! _ you better might employ your parts, and aid the sempstress in her arts. but tell me how the friendship grew between that paltry flint and you?' 'friend,' says the needle, 'cease to blame; i follow real worth and fame. know'st thou the loadstone's power and art, that virtue virtues can impart? of all his talents i partake, who then can such a friend forsake? _ 'tis i directs the pilot's hand to shun the rocks and treacherous sand: by me the distant world is known, and either india is our own. had i with milliners been bred, what had i been? the guide of thread, and drudged as vulgar needles do, of no more consequence than you.' * * * * * fable xvii. the shepherd's dog and the wolf. a wolf, with hunger fierce and bold, ravaged the plains, and thinned the fold: deep in the wood secure he lay, the thefts of night regaled the day. in vain the shepherd's wakeful care had spread the toils, and watched the snare: in vain the dog pursued his pace, the fleeter robber mocked the chase. as lightfoot ranged the forest round, by chance his foe's retreat he found. _ 'let us awhile the war suspend, and reason as from friend to friend.' 'a truce?' replies the wolf. 'tis done. the dog the parley thus begun: 'how can that strong intrepid mind attack a weak defenceless kind? those jaws should prey on nobler food, and drink the boar's and lion's blood; great souls with generous pity melt, which coward tyrants never felt. _ how harmless is our fleecy care! be brave, and let thy mercy spare.' 'friend,' says the wolf, 'the matter weigh; nature designed us beasts of prey; as such when hunger finds a treat, 'tis necessary wolves should eat. if mindful of the bleating weal, thy bosom burn with real zeal; hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech; to him repeat the moving speech; _ a wolf eats sheep but now and then, ten thousands are devoured by men. an open foe may prove a curse, but a pretended friend is worse.' * * * * * fable xviii. the painter who pleased nobody and everybody. lest men suspect your tale untrue, keep probability in view. the traveller leaping o'er those bounds, the credit of his book confounds. who with his tongue hath armies routed, makes even his real courage doubted: but flattery never seems absurd; the flattered always take your word: impossibilities seem just; they take the strongest praise on trust. _ hyperboles, though ne'er so great, will still come short of self-conceit. so very like a painter drew, that every eye the picture knew; he hit complexion, feature, air, so just, the life itself was there. no flattery with his colours laid, to bloom restored the faded maid; he gave each muscle all its strength, the mouth, the chin, the nose's length. _ his honest pencil touched with truth, and marked the date of age and youth. he lost his friends, his practice failed; truth should not always be revealed; in dusty piles his pictures lay, for no one sent the second pay. two busts, fraught with every grace a venus' and apollo's face, he placed in view; resolved to please, whoever sat, he drew from these, _ from these corrected every feature, and spirited each awkward creature. all things were set; the hour was come, his pallet ready o'er his thumb, my lord appeared; and seated right in proper attitude and light, the painter looked, he sketched the piece, then dipp'd his pencil, talked of greece, of titian's tints, of guido's air; 'those eyes, my lord, the spirit there _ might well a raphael's hand require, to give them all the native fire; the features fraught with sense and wit, you'll grant are very hard to hit; but yet with patience you shall view as much as paint and art can do. observe the work.' my lord replied: 'till now i thought my mouth was wide; besides, my mouth is somewhat long; dear sir, for me, 'tis far too young.' _ 'oh! pardon me,' the artist cried, 'in this, the painters must decide. the piece even common eyes must strike, i warrant it extremely like.' my lord examined it anew; no looking-glass seemed half so true. a lady came, with borrowed grace he from his venus formed her face. her lover praised the painter's art; so like the picture in his heart! _ to every age some charm he lent; even beauties were almost content. through all the town his art they praised; his custom grew, his price was raised. had he the real likeness shown, would any man the picture own? but when thus happily he wrought, each found the likeness in his thought. * * * * * fable xix. the lion and the cub. how fond are men of rule and place, who court it from the mean and base! these cannot bear an equal nigh, but from superior merit fly. they love the cellar's vulgar joke, and lose their hours in ale and smoke. there o'er some petty club preside; so poor, so paltry is their pride! nay, even with fools whole nights will sit, in hopes to be supreme in wit. _ if these can read, to these i write, to set their worth in truest light. a lion-cub, of sordid mind, avoided all the lion kind; fond of applause, he sought the feasts of vulgar and ignoble beasts; with asses all his time he spent, their club's perpetual president. he caught their manners, looks, and airs; an ass in every thing, but ears! _ if e'er his highness meant a joke, they grinned applause before he spoke; but at each word what shouts of praise! good gods! how natural he brays! elate with flattery and conceit, he seeks his royal sire's retreat; forward, and fond to show his parts, his highness brays; the lion starts. 'puppy, that cursed vociferation betrays thy life and conversation: _ coxcombs, an ever-noisy race, are trumpets of their own disgrace.' 'why so severe?' the cub replies; 'our senate always held me wise.' 'how weak is pride!' returns the sire; 'all fools are vain, when fools admire! but know what stupid asses prize, lions and noble beasts despise.' * * * * * fable xx. the old hen and the cock. restrain your child; you'll soon believe the text which says, we sprung from eve. as an old hen led forth her train, and seemed to peck to shew the grain; she raked the chaff, she scratched the ground, and gleaned the spacious yard around. a giddy chick, to try her wings, on the well's narrow margin springs, and prone she drops. the mother's breast all day with sorrow was possess'd. _ a cock she met; her son she knew; and in her heart affection grew. 'my son,' says she, 'i grant your years have reached beyond a mother's cares; i see you vig'rous, strong, and bold; i hear with joy your triumphs told. tis not from cocks thy fate i dread; but let thy ever-wary tread avoid yon well; that fatal place is sure perdition to our race. _ print this my counsel on thy breast; to the just gods i leave the rest.' he thanked her care; yet day by day his bosom burned to disobey; and every time the well he saw, scorned in his heart the foolish law: near and more near each day he drew, and longed to try the dangerous view. 'why was this idle charge?' he cries; 'let courage female fears despise. _ or did she doubt my heart was brave, and therefore this injunction gave? or does her harvest store the place, a treasure for her younger race? and would she thus my search prevent? i stand resolved, and dare the event.' thus said. he mounts the margin's round, and pries into the depth profound. he stretched his neck; and from below with stretching neck advanced a foe: _ with wrath his ruffled plumes he rears, the foe with ruffled plumes appears: threat answered threat, his fury grew, headlong to meet the war he flew, but when the watery death he found, he thus lamented as he drowned: 'i ne'er had been in this condition, but for my mother's prohibition.' * * * * * fable xxi. the rat-catcher and cats. the rats by night such mischief did, betty was every morning chid. they undermined whole sides of bacon, her cheese was sapped, her tarts were taken. her pasties, fenced with thickest paste, were all demolished, and laid waste. she cursed the cat for want of duty, who left her foes a constant booty. an engineer, of noted skill, engaged to stop the growing ill. _ from room to room he now surveys their haunts, their works, their secret ways; finds where they 'scape an ambuscade, and whence the nightly sally's made. an envious cat from place to place, unseen, attends his silent pace. she saw, that if his trade went on, the purring race must be undone; so, secretly removes his baits, and every stratagem defeats. _ again he sets the poisoned toils, and puss again the labour foils. 'what foe (to frustrate my designs) my schemes thus nightly countermines?' incensed, he cries: 'this very hour this wretch shall bleed beneath my power.' so said. a pond'rous trap he brought, and in the fact poor puss was caught. 'smuggler,' says he, 'thou shalt be made a victim to our loss of trade.' _ the captive cat, with piteous mews, for pardon, life, and freedom sues: 'a sister of the science spare; one interest is our common care.' 'what insolence!' the man replied; 'shall cats with us the game divide? were all your interloping band extinguished, of expelled the land, we rat-catchers might raise our fees, sole guardians of a nation's cheese!' _ a cat, who saw the lifted knife, thus spoke, and saved her sister's life: 'in every age and clime we see, two of a trade can ne'er agree. each hates his neighbour for encroaching; squire stigmatises squire for poaching; beauties with beauties are in arms, and scandal pelts each other's charms; kings too their neighbour kings dethrone, in hope to make the world their own. _ but let us limit our desires; nor war like beauties, kings, and squires! for though we both one prey pursue, there's game enough for us and you.' * * * * * fable xxii. the goat without a beard. 'tis certain, that the modish passions descend among the crowd, like fashions. excuse me then, if pride, conceit, (the manners of the fair and great) i give to monkeys, asses, dogs, fleas, owls, goats, butterflies, and hogs. i say that these are proud. what then? i never said they equal men. a goat (as vain as goat can be) affected singularity. _ whene'er a thymy bank he found, he rolled upon the fragrant ground; and then with fond attention stood, fixed o'er his image in the flood. 'i hate my frowsy beard,' he cries; 'my youth is lost in this disguise. did not the females know my vigour, well might they loathe this reverend figure.' resolved to smoothe his shaggy face, he sought the barber of the place. _ a flippant monkey, spruce and smart, hard by, professed the dapper art; his pole with pewter basins hung, black rotten teeth in order strung, ranged cups that in the window stood, lined with red rags, to look like blood, did well his threefold trade explain, who shaved, drew teeth, and breathed a vein. the goat he welcomes with an air, and seats him in his wooden chair: _ mouth, nose, and cheek the lather hides: light, smooth, and swift the razor glides. 'i hope your custom, sir,' says pug. 'sure never face was half so smug.' the goat, impatient for applause, swift to the neighbouring hill withdraws: the shaggy people grinned and stared. 'heyday! what's here? without a beard! say, brother, whence the dire disgrace? what envious hand hath robbed your face?' _ when thus the fop with smiles of scorn: 'are beards by civil nations worn? even muscovites have mowed their chins. shall we, like formal capuchins, stubborn in pride, retain the mode, and bear about the hairy load? whene'er we through the village stray, are we not mocked along the way; insulted with loud shouts of scorn, by boys our beards disgraced and torn?' _ 'were you no more with goats to dwell, brother, i grant you reason well,' replies a bearded chief. 'beside, if boys can mortify thy pride, how wilt thou stand the ridicule of our whole flock? affected fool! coxcombs, distinguished from the rest, to all but coxcombs are a jest.' * * * * * fable xxiii. the old woman and her cats. who friendship with a knave hath made, is judged a partner in the trade. the matron who conducts abroad a willing nymph, is thought a bawd; and if a modest girl is seen with one who cures a lover's spleen, we guess her not extremely nice, and only wish to know her price. 'tis thus that on the choice of friends our good or evil name depends. _ a wrinkled hag, of wicked fame, beside a little smoky flame sate hovering, pinched with age and frost; her shrivelled hands, with veins embossed, upon her knees her weight sustains, while palsy shook her crazy brains: she mumbles forth her backward prayers, an untamed scold of fourscore years. about her swarmed a numerous brood of cats, who, lank with hunger, mewed. _ teased with their cries, her choler grew, and thus she sputtered: 'hence, ye crew. fool that i was, to entertain such imps, such fiends, a hellish train! had ye been never housed and nursed, i, for a witch had ne'er been cursed. to you i owe, that crowds of boys worry me with eternal noise; straws laid across, my pace retard, the horse-shoe's nailed (each threshold's guard), _ the stunted broom the wenches hide, for fear that i should up and ride; they stick with pins my bleeding seat, and bid me show my secret teat.' 'to hear you prate would vex a saint; who hath most reason of complaint?' replies a cat. 'let's come to proof. had we ne'er starved beneath your roof, we had, like others of our race, in credit lived as beasts of chase. _ 'tis infamy to serve a hag; cats are thought imps, her broom a nag; and boys against our lives combine, because, 'tis said, you cats have nine.' * * * * * fable xxiv. the butterfly and the snail. all upstarts insolent in place, remind us of their vulgar race. as, in the sunshine of the morn, a butterfly (but newly born) sat proudly perking on a rose; with pert conceit his bosom glows; his wings (all-glorious to behold) bedropp'd with azure, jet, and gold, wide he displays; the spangled dew reflects his eyes, and various hue. _ his now-forgotten friend, a snail, beneath his house, with slimy trail crawls o'er the grass; whom when he spies, in wrath he to the gard'ner cries: 'what means yon peasant's daily toil, from choking weeds to rid the soil? why wake you to the morning's care, why with new arts correct the year, why glows the peach with crimson hue, and why the plum's inviting blue; _ were they to feast his taste design'd, that vermin of voracious kind? crush then the slow, the pilfering race; so purge thy garden from disgrace.' 'what arrogance!' the snail replied; 'how insolent is upstart pride! hadst thou not thus with insult vain, provoked my patience to complain, i had concealed thy meaner birth, nor traced thee to the scum of earth. _ for scarce nine suns have waked the hours, to swell the fruit, and paint the flowers, since i thy humbler life surveyed, in base, in sordid guise arrayed; a hideous insect, vile, unclean, you dragged a slow and noisome train; and from your spider-bowels drew foul film, and spun the dirty clew. i own my humble life, good friend; snail was i born, and snail shall end. _ and what's a butterfly? at best, he's but a caterpillar, dress'd; and all thy race (a numerous seed) shall prove of caterpillar breed.' * * * * * fable xxv. the scold and the parrot. the husband thus reproved his wife: 'who deals in slander, lives in strife. art thou the herald of disgrace, denouncing war to all thy race? can nothing quell thy thunder's rage, which spares no friend, nor sex, nor age? that vixen tongue of yours, my dear, alarms our neighbours far and near. good gods! 'tis like a rolling river, that murmuring flows, and flows for ever! _ ne'er tired, perpetual discord sowing! like fame, it gathers strength by going.' 'heyday!' the flippant tongue replies, how solemn is the fool, how wise! is nature's choicest gift debarred? nay, frown not; for i will be heard. women of late are finely ridden, a parrot's privilege forbidden! you praise his talk, his squalling song; but wives are always in the wrong.' _ now reputations flew in pieces, of mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces. she ran the parrot's language o'er, bawd, hussy, drunkard, slattern, whore; on all the sex she vents her fury, tries and condemns without a jury. at once the torrent of her words alarmed cat, monkey, dogs, and birds: all join their forces to confound her; puss spits, the monkey chatters round her; _ the yelping cur her heels assaults; the magpie blabs out all her faults; poll, in the uproar, from his cage, with this rebuke out-screamed her rage: 'a parrot is for talking prized, but prattling women are despised. she who attacks another's honour, draws every living thing upon her. think, madam, when you stretch your lungs, that all your neighbours too have tongues. _ one slander must ten thousand get, the world with interest pays the debt.' * * * * * fable xxvi. the cur and the mastiff. a sneaking cur, the master's spy, rewarded for his daily lie, with secret jealousies and fears set all together by the ears. poor puss to-day was in disgrace, another cat supplied her place; the hound was beat, the mastiff chid, the monkey was the room forbid; each to his dearest friend grew shy, and none could tell the reason why. _ a plan to rob the house was laid, the thief with love seduced the maid; cajoled the cur, and stroked his head, and bought his secrecy with bread. he next the mastiff's honour tried, whose honest jaws the bribe defied. he stretched his hand to proffer more; the surly dog his fingers tore. swift ran the cur; with indignation the master took his information. _ 'hang him, the villain's cursed,' he cries; and round his neck the halter ties. the dog his humble suit preferred, and begged in justice to be heard. the master sat. on either hand the cited dogs confronting stand; the cur the bloody tale relates, and, like a lawyer, aggravates. 'judge not unheard,' the mastiff cried, 'but weigh the cause on either side. _ think not that treachery can be just, take not informers' words on trust. they ope their hand to every pay, and you and me by turns betray.' he spoke. and all the truth appeared, the cur was hanged, the mastiff cleared. * * * * * fable xxvii. the sick man and the angel. 'is there no hope?' the sick man said. the silent doctor shook his head, and took his leave with signs of sorrow, despairing of his fee to-morrow. when thus the man with gasping breath; 'i feel the chilling wound of death: since i must bid the world adieu, let me my former life review. i grant, my bargains well were made, but all men over-reach in trade; _ 'tis self-defence in each profession, sure self-defence is no transgression. the little portion in my hands, by good security on lands, is well increased. if unawares, my justice to myself and heirs, hath let my debtor rot in jail, for want of good sufficient bail; if i by writ, or bond, or deed, reduced a family to need, _ my will hath made the world amends; my hope on charity depends. when i am numbered with the dead, and all my pious gifts are read, by heaven and earth 'twill then be known my charities were amply shown' an angel came. 'ah, friend!' he cried, 'no more in flattering hope confide. can thy good deeds in former times outweigh the balance of thy crimes? _ what widow or what orphan prays to crown thy life with length of days? a pious action's in thy power, embrace with joy the happy hour. now, while you draw the vital air, prove your intention is sincere. this instant give a hundred pound; your neighbours want, and you abound.' 'but why such haste?' the sick man whines; 'who knows as yet what heaven designs? _ perhaps i may recover still; that sum and more are in my will? 'fool,' says the vision, 'now 'tis plain, your life, your soul, your heaven was gain, from every side, with all your might, you scraped, and scraped beyond your right; and after death would fain atone, by giving what is not your own.' 'while there is life, there's hope,' he cried; 'then why such haste?' so groaned and died. _ * * * * * fable xxviii. the persian, the sun, and the cloud. is there a bard whom genius fires, whose every thought the god inspires? when envy reads the nervous lines, she frets, she rails, she raves, she pines; her hissing snakes with venom swell; she calls her venal train from hell: the servile fiends her nod obey, and all curl's[ ] authors are in pay, fame calls up calumny and spite. thus shadow owes its birth to light. _ as prostrate to the god of day, with heart devout, a persian lay, his invocation thus begun: 'parent of light, all-seeing sun, prolific beam, whose rays dispense the various gifts of providence, accept our praise, our daily prayer, smile on our fields, and bless the year.' a cloud, who mocked his grateful tongue, the day with sudden darkness hung; _ with pride and envy swelled, aloud a voice thus thundered from the cloud: 'weak is this gaudy god of thine, whom i at will forbid to shine. shall i nor vows, nor incense know? where praise is due, the praise bestow.' with fervent zeal the persian moved, thus the proud calumny reproved: 'it was that god, who claims my prayer, who gave thee birth, and raised thee there; _ when o'er his beams the veil is thrown, thy substance is but plainer shown. a passing gale, a puff of wind dispels thy thickest troops combined.' the gale arose; the vapour toss'd (the sport of winds) in air was lost; the glorious orb the day refines. thus envy breaks, thus merit shines. * * * * * fable xxix. the fox at the point of death. a fox, in life's extreme decay, weak, sick, and faint, expiring lay; all appetite had left his maw, and age disarmed his mumbling jaw. his numerous race around him stand to learn their dying sire's command: he raised his head with whining moan, and thus was heard the feeble tone: 'ah, sons! from evil ways depart: my crimes lie heavy on my heart. _ see, see, the murdered geese appear! why are those bleeding turkeys here? why all around this cackling train, who haunt my ears for chicken slain? the hungry foxes round them stared, and for the promised feast prepared. 'where, sir, is all this dainty cheer? nor turkey, goose, nor hen is here. these are the phantoms of your brain, and your sons lick their lips in vain.' _ 'o gluttons!' says the drooping sire, 'restrain inordinate desire. your liqu'rish taste you shall deplore, when peace of conscience is no more. does not the hound betray our pace, and gins and guns destroy our race? thieves dread the searching eye of power, and never feel the quiet hour. old age (which few of us shall know) now puts a period to my woe. _ would you true happiness attain, let honesty your passions rein; so live in credit and esteem, and the good name you lost, redeem.' 'the counsel's good,' a fox replies, 'could we perform what you advise. think what our ancestors have done; a line of thieves from son to son: to us descends the long disgrace, and infamy hath marked our race. _ though we, like harmless sheep, should feed, honest in thought, in word, and deed; whatever henroost is decreased, we shall be thought to share the feast. the change shall never be believed, a lost good name is ne'er retrieved.' 'nay, then,' replies the feeble fox, '(but hark! i hear a hen that clocks) go, but be moderate in your food; a chicken too might do me good.' * * * * * fable xxx. the setting-dog and the partridge. the ranging dog the stubble tries, and searches every breeze that flies; the scent grows warm; with cautious fear he creeps, and points the covey near; the men, in silence, far behind, conscious of game, the net unbind. a partridge, with experience wise, the fraudful preparation spies: she mocks their toils, alarms her brood; the covey springs, and seeks the wood; _ but ere her certain wing she tries, thus to the creeping spaniel cries: 'thou fawning slave to man's deceit, thou pimp of luxury, sneaking cheat, of thy whole species thou disgrace, dogs shall disown thee of their race! for if i judge their native parts, they're born with open, honest hearts; and, ere they serve man's wicked ends, were generous foes, or real friends.' _ when thus the dog, with scornful smile: 'secure of wing, thou dar'st revile. clowns are to polished manners blind, how ignorant is the rustic mind! my worth, sagacious courtiers see, and to preferment rise, like me. the thriving pimp, who beauty sets, hath oft enhanced a nation's debts: friend sets his friend, without regard; and ministers his skill reward: _ thus trained by man, i learnt his ways, and growing favour feasts my days.' 'i might have guessed,' the partridge said, 'the place where you were trained and fed; servants are apt, and in a trice ape to a hair their master's vice. you came from court, you say. adieu,' she said, and to the covey flew. * * * * * fable xxxi. the universal apparition. a rake, by every passion ruled, with every vice his youth had cooled; disease his tainted blood assails; his spirits droop, his vigour fails; with secret ills at home he pines, and, like infirm old age, declines. as, twinged with pain, he pensive sits, and raves, and prays, and swears by fits, a ghastly phantom, lean and wan, before him rose, and thus began: _ 'my name, perhaps, hath reached your ear; attend, and be advised by care. nor love, nor honour, wealth, nor power, can give the heart a cheerful hour, when health is lost. be timely wise: with health all taste of pleasure flies.' thus said, the phantom disappears. the wary counsel waked his fears: he now from all excess abstains, with physic purifies his veins; _ and, to procure a sober life, resolves to venture on a wife. but now again the sprite ascends, where'er he walks his ear attends; insinuates that beauty's frail, that perseverance must prevail; with jealousies his brain inflames, and whispers all her lovers' names. in other hours she represents his household charge, his annual rents, _ increasing debts, perplexing duns, and nothing for his younger sons. straight all his thought to gain he turns, and with the thirst of lucre burns. but when possessed of fortune's store, the spectre haunts him more and more; sets want and misery in view, bold thieves, and all the murd'ring crew, alarms him with eternal frights, infests his dream, or wakes his nights. _ how shall he chase this hideous guest? power may perhaps protect his rest. to power he rose. again the sprite besets him, morning, noon, and night! talks of ambition's tottering seat, how envy persecutes the great, of rival hate, of treacherous friends, and what disgrace his fall attends. the court he quits to fly from care, and seeks the peace of rural air: _ his groves, his fields, amused his hours; he pruned his trees, he raised his flowers. but care again his steps pursues; warns him of blasts, of blighting dews, of plund'ring insects, snails, and rains, and droughts that starved the laboured plains. abroad, at home, the spectre's there: in vain we seek to fly from care. at length he thus the ghost address'd: 'since thou must be my constant guest, _ be kind, and follow me no more; for care by right should go before.' * * * * * fable xxxii. the two owls and the sparrow. two formal owls together sat, conferring thus in solemn chat: 'how is the modern taste decayed! where's the respect to wisdom paid? our worth the grecian sages knew; they gave our sires the honour due; they weighed the dignity of fowls, and pried into the depth of owls. athens, the seat of learned fame, with general voice revered our name; _ on merit, title was conferred, and all adored the athenian bird.' 'brother, you reason well,' replies the solemn mate, with half-shut eyes; 'right. athens was the seat of learning, and truly wisdom is discerning. besides, on pallas' helm we sit, the type and ornament of wit: but now, alas! we're quite neglected, and a pert sparrow's more respected.' _ a sparrow, who was lodged beside, o'erhears them soothe each other's pride, and thus he nimbly vents his heat: 'who meets a fool must find conceit. i grant, you were at athens graced, and on minerva's helm were placed; but every bird that wings the sky, except an owl, can tell you why. from hence they taught their schools to know how false we judge by outward show; _ that we should never looks esteem, since fools as wise as you might seem. would ye contempt and scorn avoid, let your vain-glory be destroyed: humble your arrogance of thought, pursue the ways by nature taught; so shall you find delicious fare, and grateful farmers praise your care: so shall sleek mice your chase reward, and no keen cat find more regard.' _ * * * * * fable xxxiii. the courtier and proteus. whene'er a courtier's out of place the country shelters his disgrace; where, doomed to exercise and health, his house and gardens own his wealth, he builds new schemes in hopes to gain the plunder of another reign; like philip's son, would fain be doing, and sighs for other realms to ruin. as one of these (without his wand) pensive, along the winding strand _ employed the solitary hour, in projects to regain his power; the waves in spreading circles ran, proteus arose, and thus began: 'came you from court? for in your mien a self-important air is seen. he frankly owned his friends had tricked him and how he fell his party's victim. 'know,' says the god, 'by matchless skill i change to every shape at will; _ but yet i'm told, at court you see those who presume to rival me.' thus said. a snake with hideous trail, proteus extends his scaly mail. 'know,' says the man, 'though proud in place, all courtiers are of reptile race. like you, they take that dreadful form, bask in the sun, and fly the storm; with malice hiss, with envy gloat, and for convenience change their coat; _ with new-got lustre rear their head, though on a dunghill born and bred.' sudden the god a lion stands; he shakes his mane, he spurns the sands; now a fierce lynx, with fiery glare, a wolf, an ass, a fox, a bear. 'had i ne'er lived at court,' he cries, 'such transformation might surprise; but there, in quest of daily game, each able courtier acts the same. _ wolves, lions, lynxes, while in place, their friends and fellows are their chase. they play the bear's and fox's part; now rob by force, now steal with art. they sometimes in the senate bray; or, changed again to beasts of prey, down from the lion to the ape, practise the frauds of every shape.' so said, upon the god he flies, in cords the struggling captive ties. _ 'now, proteus, now, (to truth compelled) speak, and confess thy art excelled. use strength, surprise, or what you will, the courtier finds evasions still: not to be bound by any ties, and never forced to leave his lies.' * * * * * fable xxxiv. the mastiffs. those who in quarrels interpose, must often wipe a bloody nose. a mastiff, of true english blood, loved fighting better than his food. when dogs were snarling for a bone, he longed to make the war his own, and often found (when two contend) to interpose obtained his end; he gloried in his limping pace; the scars of honour seamed his face; _ in every limb a gash appears, and frequent fights retrenched his ears. as, on a time, he heard from far two dogs engaged in noisy war, away he scours and lays about him, resolved no fray should be without him. forth from his yard a tanner flies, and to the bold intruder cries: 'a cudgel shall correct your manners, whence sprung this cursed hate to tanners? _ while on my dog you vent your spite, sirrah! 'tis me you dare not bite.' to see the battle thus perplexed, with equal rage a butcher vexed, hoarse-screaming from the circled crowd, to the cursed mastiff cries aloud: 'both hockley-hole and mary-bone the combats of my dog have known. he ne'er, like bullies coward-hearted, attacks in public, to be parted. _ think not, rash fool, to share his fame: be his the honour, or the shame.' thus said, they swore, and raved like thunder; then dragged their fastened dogs asunder; while clubs and kicks from every side rebounded from the mastiff's hide. all reeking now with sweat and blood, awhile the parted warriors stood, then poured upon the meddling foe; who, worried, howled and sprawled below. _ he rose; and limping from the fray, by both sides mangled, sneaked away. * * * * * fable xxxv. the barley-mow and the dunghill. how many saucy airs we meet from temple bar to aldgate street! proud rogues, who shared the south-sea prey, and sprung like mushrooms in a day! they think it mean, to condescend to know a brother or a friend; they blush to hear their mother's name, and by their pride expose their shame. as cross his yard, at early day, a careful farmer took his way, _ he stopped, and leaning on his fork, observed the flail's incessant work. in thought he measured all his store, his geese, his hogs, he numbered o'er; in fancy weighed the fleeces shorn, and multiplied the next year's corn. a barley-mow, which stood beside, thus to its musing master cried: 'say, good sir, is it fit or right to treat me with neglect and slight? _ me, who contribute to your cheer, and raise your mirth with ale and beer? why thus insulted, thus disgraced, and that vile dunghill near me placed? are those poor sweepings of a groom, that filthy sight, that nauseous fume, meet objects here? command it hence: a thing so mean must give offence' the humble dunghill thus replied: 'thy master hears, and mocks thy pride: _ insult not thus the meek and low; in me thy benefactor know; my warm assistance gave thee birth, or thou hadst perished low in earth; but upstarts, to support their station, cancel at once all obligation.' * * * * * fable xxxvi. pythagoras and the countryman. pythag'ras rose at early dawn, by soaring meditation drawn, to breathe the fragrance of the day, through flowery fields he took his way. in musing contemplation warm, his steps misled him to a farm, where, on the ladder's topmost round, a peasant stood; the hammer's sound shook the weak barn. 'say, friend, what care calls for thy honest labour there?' _ the clown, with surly voice replies, 'vengeance aloud for justice cries. this kite, by daily rapine fed, my hens' annoy, my turkeys' dread, at length his forfeit life has paid; see on the wall his wings displayed, here nailed, a terror to his kind, my fowls shall future safety find; my yard the thriving poultry feed, and my barn's refuse fat the breed.' _ 'friend,' says the sage, 'the doom is wise; for public good the murderer dies. but if these tyrants of the air demand a sentence so severe, think how the glutton man devours; what bloody feasts regale his hours! o impudence of power and might, thus to condemn a hawk or kite, when thou, perhaps, carniv'rous sinner, hadst pullets yesterday for dinner!' _ 'hold,' cried the clown, with passion heated, 'shall kites and men alike be treated? when heaven the world with creatures stored, man was ordained their sovereign lord.' 'thus tyrants boast,' the sage replied, 'whose murders spring from power and pride. own then this man-like kite is slain thy greater luxury to sustain; for "petty rogues submit to fate, that great ones may enjoy their state."'[ ] _ fable xxxvii. the farmer's wife and the raven. 'why are those tears? why droops your head? is then your other husband dead? or does a worse disgrace betide? hath no one since his death applied?' 'alas! you know the cause too well: the salt is spilt, to me it fell. then, to contribute to my loss, my knife and fork were laid across; on friday too! the day i dread! would i were safe at home in bed! _ last night (i vow to heaven 'tis true) bounce from the fire a coffin flew. next post some fatal news shall tell, god send my cornish friends be well!' 'unhappy widow, cease thy tears, nor feel affliction in thy fears, let not thy stomach be suspended; eat now, and weep when dinner's ended; and when the butler clears the table, for thy desert, i'll read my fable.' _ betwixt her swagging panniers' load a farmer's wife to market rode, and, jogging on, with thoughtful care summed up the profits of her ware; when, starting from her silver dream, thus far and wide was heard her scream: 'that raven on yon left-hand oak (curse on his ill-betiding croak) bodes me no good.' no more she said, when poor blind ball, with stumbling tread, _ fell prone; o'erturned the pannier lay, and her mashed eggs bestrewed the way. she, sprawling in the yellow road, railed, swore and cursed: 'thou croaking toad, a murrain take thy whoreson throat! i knew misfortune in the note.' 'dame,' quoth the raven, 'spare your oaths, unclench your fist, and wipe your clothes. but why on me those curses thrown? goody, the fault was all your own; _ for had you laid this brittle ware, on dun, the old sure-footed mare, though all the ravens of the hundred, with croaking had your tongue out-thundered, sure-footed dun had kept his legs, and you, good woman, saved your eggs.' fable xxxviii. the turkey and the ant. in other men we faults can spy, and blame the mote that dims their eye, each little speck and blemish find, to our own stronger errors blind. a turkey, tired of common food, forsook the barn, and sought the wood; behind her ran her infant train, collecting here and there a grain. 'draw near, my birds,' the mother cries, 'this hill delicious fare supplies; _ behold, the busy negro race, see, millions blacken all the place! fear not. like me with freedom eat; an ant is most delightful meat. how bless'd, how envied were our life, could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife! but man, cursed man, on turkeys preys, and christmas shortens all our days: sometimes with oysters we combine, sometimes assist the savoury chine. _ from the low peasant to the lord, the turkey smokes on every board. sure men for gluttony are cursed, of the seven deadly sins the worst.' an ant, who climbed beyond his reach, thus answered from the neighbouring beech: 'ere you remark another's sin, bid thy own conscience look within; control thy more voracious bill, nor for a breakfast nations kill.' _ * * * * * fable xxxix. the father and jupiter. the man to jove his suit preferred; he begged a wife. his prayer was heard, jove wondered at his bold addressing: for how precarious is the blessing! a wife he takes. and now for heirs again he worries heaven with prayers. jove nods assent. two hopeful boys and a fine girl reward his joys. now, more solicitous he grew, and set their future lives in view; _ he saw that all respect and duty were paid to wealth, to power, and beauty. 'once more,' he cries, 'accept my prayer; make my loved progeny thy care. let my first hope, my favourite boy, all fortune's richest gifts enjoy. my next with strong ambition fire: may favour teach him to aspire; till he the step of power ascend, and courtiers to their idol bend. _ with every grace, with every charm, my daughter's perfect features arm. if heaven approve, a father's bless'd.' jove smiles, and grants his full request. the first, a miser at the heart, studious of every griping art, heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain; and all his life devotes to gain. he feels no joy, his cares increase, he neither wakes nor sleeps in peace; _ in fancied want (a wretch complete) he starves, and yet he dares not eat. the next to sudden honours grew: the thriving art of courts he knew: he reached the height of power and place; then fell, the victim of disgrace. beauty with early bloom supplies his daughter's cheek, and points her eyes. the vain coquette each suit disdains, and glories in her lover's pains. _ with age she fades, each lover flies; contemned, forlorn, she pines and dies. when jove the father's grief surveyed, and heard him heaven and fate upbraid, thus spoke the god: 'by outward show, men judge of happiness and woe: shall ignorance of good and ill dare to direct the eternal will? seek virtue; and, of that possess'd, to providence resign the rest' _ * * * * * fable xl. the two monkeys. the learned, full of inward pride, the fops of outward show deride: the fop, with learning at defiance, scoffs at the pedant, and the science: the don, a formal, solemn strutter, despises monsieur's airs and flutter; while monsieur mocks the formal fool, who looks, and speaks, and walks by rule. britain, a medley of the twain, as pert as france, as grave as spain; _ in fancy wiser than the rest, laughs at them both, of both the jest. is not the poet's chiming close censured by all the sons of prose? while bards of quick imagination despise the sleepy prose narration. men laugh at apes, they men contemn; for what are we, but apes to them? two monkeys went to southwark fair, no critics had a sourer air: _ they forced their way through draggled folks, who gaped to catch jack-pudding's jokes; then took their tickets for the show, and got by chance the foremost row. to see their grave, observing face, provoked a laugh throughout the place. 'brother,' says pug, and turned his head, 'the rabble's monstrously ill bred.' now through the booth loud hisses ran; nor ended till the show began. _ the tumbler whirls the flap-flap round, with somersets he shakes the ground; the cord beneath the dancer springs; aloft in air the vaulter swings; distorted now, now prone depends, now through his twisted arms ascends: the crowd, in wonder and delight, with clapping hands applaud the sight. with smiles, quoth pug, 'if pranks like these the giant apes of reason please, _ how would they wonder at our arts! they must adore us for our parts. high on the twig i've seen you cling; play, twist and turn in airy ring: how can those clumsy things, like me, fly with a bound from tree to tree? but yet, by this applause, we find these emulators of our kind discern our worth, our parts regard, who our mean mimics thus reward.' _ 'brother,' the grinning mate replies, 'in this i grant that man is wise. while good example they pursue, we must allow some praise is due; but when they strain beyond their guide, i laugh to scorn the mimic pride, for how fantastic is the sight, to meet men always bolt upright, because we sometimes walk on two! i hate the imitating crew.' _ * * * * * fable xli. the owl and the farmer. an owl of grave deport and mien, who (like the turk) was seldom seen, within a barn had chose his station, as fit for prey and contemplation. upon a beam aloft he sits, and nods, and seems to think by fits. so have i seen a man of news, or _post-boy_, or _gazette_ peruse; smoke, nod, and talk with voice profound, and fix the fate of europe round. _ sheaves piled on sheaves, hid all the floor; at dawn of morn, to view his store the farmer came. the hooting guest his self-importance thus express'd: 'reason in man is mere pretence: how weak, how shallow is his sense! to treat with scorn the bird of night, declares his folly, or his spite. then too, how partial is his praise! the lark's, the linnet's chirping lays _ to his ill-judging ears are fine; and nightingales are all divine. but the more knowing feathered race see wisdom stamped upon my face. whene'er to visit light i deign, what flocks of fowl compose my train! like slaves they crowd my flight behind, and own me of superior kind.' the farmer laughed, and thus replied: 'thou dull important lump of pride, _ dar'st thou with that harsh grating tongue, depreciate birds of warbling song? indulge thy spleen. know, men and fowl regard thee, as thou art an owl. besides, proud blockhead, be not vain, of what thou call'st thy slaves and train. few follow wisdom or her rules; fools in derision follow fools.' * * * * * fable xlii. the jugglers. a juggler long through all the town had raised his fortune and renown; you'd think (so far his art transcends) the devil at his fingers' ends. vice heard his fame, she read his bill; convinced of his inferior skill, she sought his booth, and from the crowd defied the man of art aloud: 'is this, then, he so famed for sleight? can this slow bungler cheat your sight! _ dares he with me dispute the prize? i leave it to impartial eyes.' provoked, the juggler cried, ''tis done. in science i submit to none.' thus said, the cups and balls he played; by turns, this here, that there, conveyed. the cards, obedient to his words, are by a fillip turned to birds. his little boxes change the grain: trick after trick deludes the train. _ he shakes his bag, he shows all fair; his fingers spreads, and nothing there; then bids it rain with showers of gold, and now his ivory eggs are told. but when from thence the hen he draws, amazed spectators hum applause. vice now stept forth, and took the place with all the forms of his grimace. 'this magic looking-glass,' she cries, (there, hand it round) 'will charm your eyes.' _ each eager eye the sight desired, and every man himself admired. next to a senator addressing: 'see this bank-note; observe the blessing, breathe on the bill.' heigh, pass! 'tis gone. upon his lips a padlock shone. a second puff the magic broke, the padlock vanished, and he spoke. twelve bottles ranged upon the board, all full, with heady liquor stored, _ by clean conveyance disappear, and now two bloody swords are there. a purse she to a thief exposed, at once his ready fingers closed; he opes his fist, the treasure's fled; he sees a halter in its stead. she bids ambition hold a wand; he grasps a hatchet in his hand. a box of charity she shows, 'blow here;' and a churchwarden blows, _ 'tis vanished with conveyance neat, and on the table smokes a treat. she shakes the dice, the boards she knocks, and from all pockets fills her box. she next a meagre rake address'd: 'this picture see; her shape, her breast! what youth, and what inviting eyes! hold her, and have her.' with surprise, his hand exposed a box of pills, and a loud laugh proclaimed his ills. _ a counter, in a miser's hand, grew twenty guineas at command. she bids his heir the sum retain, and 'tis a counter now again. a guinea with her touch you see take every shape, but charity; and not one thing you saw, or drew, but changed from what was first in view. the juggler now in grief of heart, with this submission owned her art: _ 'can i such matchless sleight withstand? how practice hath improved your hand! but now and then i cheat the throng; you every day, and all day long.' * * * * * fable xliii. the council of horses. upon a time a neighing steed, who grazed among a numerous breed, with mutiny had fired the train, and spread dissension through the plain. on matters that concerned the state the council met in grand debate. a colt, whose eye-balls flamed with ire, elate with strength and youthful fire, in haste stept forth before the rest, and thus the listening throng addressed: _ 'good gods! how abject is our race, condemned to slavery and disgrace! shall we our servitude retain, because our sires have borne the chain? consider, friends, your strength and might; 'tis conquest to assert your right. how cumbrous is the gilded coach! the pride of man is our reproach. were we designed for daily toil, to drag the ploughshare through, the soil, _ to sweat in harness through the road, to groan beneath the carrier's load? how feeble are the two-legged kind! what force is in our nerves combined! shall then our nobler jaws submit to foam and champ the galling bit? shall haughty man my back bestride? shall the sharp spur provoke my side? forbid it, heavens! reject the rein; your shame, your infamy disdain. _ let him the lion first control, and still the tiger's famished growl. let us, like them, our freedom claim, and make him tremble at our name.' a general nod approved the cause, and all the circle neighed applause. when, lo! with grave and solemn pace, a steed advanced before the race, with age and long experience wise; around he cast his thoughtful eyes, _ and, to the murmurs of the train, thus spoke the nestor of the plain: 'when i had health and strength, like you, the toils of servitude i knew; now grateful man rewards my pains, and gives me all these wide domains. at will i crop the year's increase my latter life is rest and peace. i grant, to man we lend our pains, and aid him to correct the plains. _ but doth not he divide the care, through all the labours of the year? how many thousand structures rise, to fence us from inclement skies! for us he bears the sultry day, and stores up all our winter's hay. he sows, he reaps the harvest's gain; we share the toil, and share the grain. since every creature was decreed to aid each other's mutual need, _ appease your discontented mind, and act the part by heaven assigned.' the tumult ceased. the colt submitted, and, like his ancestors, was bitted. * * * * * fable xliv. the hound and the huntsman. impertinence at first is borne with heedless slight, or smiles of scorn; teased into wrath, what patience bears the noisy fool who perseveres? the morning wakes, the huntsman sounds, at once rush forth the joyful hounds. they seek the wood with eager pace, through bush, through brier, explore the chase. now scattered wide, they try the plain, and snuff the dewy turf in vain. _ what care, what industry, what pains! what universal silence reigns. ringwood, a dog of little fame, young, pert, and ignorant of game, at once displays his babbling throat; the pack, regardless of the note, pursue the scent; with louder strain he still persists to vex the train. the huntsman to the clamour flies; the smacking lash he smartly plies. _ his ribs all welked, with howling tone the puppy thus expressed his moan: 'i know the music of my tongue long since the pack with envy stung. what will not spite? these bitter smarts i owe to my superior parts.' 'when puppies prate,' the huntsman cried, 'they show both ignorance and pride: fools may our scorn, not envy raise, for envy is a kind of praise. _ had not thy forward noisy tongue proclaimed thee always in the wrong, thou might'st have mingled with the rest, and ne'er thy foolish nose confess'd. but fools, to talking ever prone, are sure to make their follies known.' * * * * * fable xlv. the poet and the rose. i hate the man who builds his name on ruins of another's fame. thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, imagine that they raise their own. thus scribblers, covetous of praise, think slander can transplant the bays. beauties and bards have equal pride, with both all rivals are decried. who praises lesbia's eyes and feature, must call her sister, awkward creature; _ for the kind flattery's sure to charm, when we some other nymph disarm. as in the cool of early day a poet sought the sweets of may, the garden's fragrant breath ascends, and every stalk with odour bends. a rose he plucked, he gazed, admired, thus singing as the muse inspired: 'go, rose, my chloe's bosom grace; how happy should i prove, _ might i supply that envied place with never fading love! there, phoenix-like, beneath her eye, involved in fragrance, burn and die! know, hapless flower, that thou shalt find more fragrant roses there; i see thy withering head reclined with envy and despair! one common fate we both must prove; you die with envy, i with love.' _ 'spare your comparisons,' replied an angry rose, who grew beside. 'of all mankind, you should not flout us; what can a poet do without us! in every love-song roses bloom; we lend you colour and perfume. does it to chloe's charms conduce, to found her praise on our abuse? must we, to flatter her, be made to wither, envy, pine and fade?' _ * * * * * fable xlvi. the cur, the horse, and the shepherd's dog. the lad of all-sufficient merit, with modesty ne'er damps his spirit; presuming on his own deserts, on all alike his tongue exerts; his noisy jokes at random throws, and pertly spatters friends and foes; in wit and war the bully race contribute to their own disgrace. too late the forward youth shall find that jokes are sometimes paid in kind; _ or if they canker in the breast, he makes a foe who makes a jest. a village-cur, of snappish race, the pertest puppy of the place, imagined that his treble throat was blest with music's sweetest note: in the mid road he basking lay, the yelping nuisance of the way; for not a creature passed along, but had a sample of his song. _ soon as the trotting steed he hears, he starts, he cocks his dapper ears; away he scours, assaults his hoof; now near him snarls, now barks aloof; with shrill impertinence attends; nor leaves him till the village ends. it chanced, upon his evil day, a pad came pacing down the way: the cur, with never-ceasing tongue, upon the passing traveller sprung. _ the horse, from scorn provoked to ire, flung backward; rolling in the mire, the puppy howled, and bleeding lay; the pad in peace pursued the way. a shepherd's dog, who saw the deed, detesting the vexatious breed, bespoke him thus: 'when coxcombs prate, they kindle wrath, contempt, or hate; thy teasing tongue had judgment tied, thou hadst not, like a puppy, died.' _ * * * * * fable xlvii. the court of death. death, on a solemn night of state, in all his pomp of terror sate: the attendants of his gloomy reign, diseases dire, a ghastly train! crowd the vast court. with hollow tone, a voice thus thundered from the throne: 'this night our minister we name, let every servant speak his claim; merit shall bear this ebon wand;' all, at the word, stretch'd forth their hand. _ fever, with burning heat possess'd, advanced, and for the wand address'd: 'i to the weekly bills appeal, let those express my fervent zeal; on every slight occasion near, with violence i persevere.' next gout appears with limping pace, pleads how he shifts from place to place, from head to foot how swift he flies, and every joint and sinew plies; _ still working when he seems suppress'd, a most tenacious stubborn guest. a haggard spectre from the crew crawls forth, and thus asserts his due: 'tis i who taint the sweetest joy, and in the shape of love destroy: my shanks, sunk eyes, and noseless face, prove my pretension to the place.' stone urged his ever-growing force. and, next, consumption's meagre corse, _ with feeble voice, that scarce was heard, broke with short coughs, his suit preferred: 'let none object my ling'ring way, i gain, like fabius, by delay; fatigue and weaken every foe by long attack, secure, though slow.' plague represents his rapid power, who thinned a nation in an hour. all spoke their claim, and hoped the wand. now expectation hushed the band, _ when thus the monarch from the throne: 'merit was ever modest known, what, no physician speak his right! none here! but fees their toils requite. let then intemperance take the wand, who fills with gold their zealous hand. you, fever, gout, and all the rest, (whom wary men, as foes, detest,) forego your claim; no more pretend: intemperance is esteemed a friend; _ he shares their mirth, their social joys, and, as a courted guest, destroys. the charge on him must justly fall, who finds employment for you all.' * * * * * fable xlviii. the gardener and the hog. a gard'ner, of peculiar taste, on a young hog his favour placed; who fed not with the common herd; his tray was to the hall preferred. he wallowed underneath the board, or in his master's chamber snored; who fondly stroked him every day, and taught him all the puppy's play; where'er he went, the grunting friend ne'er failed his pleasure to attend. _ as on a time, the loving pair walked forth to tend the garden's care, the master thus address'd the swine: 'my house, my garden, all is thine. on turnips feast whene'er you please, and riot in my beans and peas; if the potato's taste delights, or the red carrot's sweet invites, indulge thy morn and evening hours, but let due care regard my flowers: _ my tulips are my garden's pride, what vast expense those beds supplied!' the hog by chance one morning roamed, where with new ale the vessels foamed. he munches now the steaming grains, now with full swill the liquor drains. intoxicating fumes arise; he reels, he rolls his winking eyes; then stagg'ring through the garden scours, and treads down painted ranks of flowers. _ with delving snout he turns the soil, and cools his palate with the spoil. the master came, the ruin spied, 'villain, suspend thy rage,' he cried. 'hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot, my charge, my only charge forgot? what, all my flowers!' no more he said, but gazed, and sighed, and hung his head. the hog with stutt'ring speech returns: 'explain, sir, why your anger burns. _ see there, untouched, your tulips strown, for i devoured the roots alone.' at this the gard'ner's passion grows; from oaths and threats he fell to blows. the stubborn brute the blow sustains; assaults his leg, and tears the veins. ah! foolish swain, too late you find that sties were for such friends designed! homeward he limps with painful pace, reflecting thus on past disgrace: _ who cherishes a brutal mate shall mourn the folly soon or late. * * * * * fable xlix. the man and the flea. whether on earth, in air, or main, sure everything alive is vain! does not the hawk all fowls survey, as destined only for his prey? and do not tyrants, prouder things, think men were born for slaves to kings? when the crab views the pearly strands, or tagus, bright with golden sands; or crawls beside the coral grove, and hears the ocean roll above; _ 'nature is too profuse,' says he, 'who gave all these to pleasure me!' when bordering pinks and roses bloom, and every garden breathes perfume; when peaches glow with sunny dyes, like laura's cheek, when blushes rise; when with huge figs the branches bend, when clusters from the vine depend; the snail looks round on flower and tree, and cries, 'all these were made for me!' _ 'what dignity's in human nature!' says man, the most conceited creature, as from a cliff he cast his eye, and viewed the sea and arched sky; the sun was sunk beneath the main, the moon and all the starry train hung the vast vault of heaven. the man his contemplation thus began: 'when i behold this glorious show, and the wide watery world below, _ the scaly people of the main, the beasts that range the wood or plain, the winged inhabitants of air, the day, the night, the various year, and know all these by heaven design'd as gifts to pleasure human kind; i cannot raise my worth too high; of what vast consequence am i!' 'not of the importance you suppose,' replies a flea upon his nose. _ 'be humble, learn thyself to scan; know, pride was never made for man. 'tis vanity that swells thy mind. what, heaven and earth for thee designed! for thee, made only for our need, that more important fleas might feed.' * * * * * fable l. the hare and many friends. friendship, like love, is but a name, unless to one you stint the flame. the child, whom many fathers share, hath seldom known a father's care. tis thus in friendships; who depend on many, rarely find a friend. a hare, who in a civil way, complied with everything, like gay, was known by all the bestial train who haunt the wood, or graze the plain. _ her care was never to offend, and every creature was her friend. as forth she went at early dawn, to taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, behind she hears the hunter's cries, and from the deep-mouthed thunder flies. she starts, she stops, she pants for breath; she hears the near advance of death; she doubles to mislead the hound, and measures back her mazy round; _ till fainting in the public way, half-dead with fear, she gasping lay. what transport in her bosom grew, when first the horse appeared in view! 'let me,' says she, 'your back ascend, and owe my safety to a friend. you know my feet betray my flight; to friendship every burden's light.' the horse replied--'poor honest puss, it grieves my heart to see thee thus; _ be comforted, relief is near; for all your friends are in the rear.' she next the stately bull implored; and thus replied the mighty lord-- 'since every beast alive can tell that i sincerely wish you well, i may, without offence, pretend to take the freedom of a friend. love calls me hence; a favourite cow expects me near yon barley mow: _ and when a lady's in the case, you know all other things give place. to leave you thus might seem unkind; but see, the goat is just behind.' the goat remarked her pulse was high, her languid head, her heavy eye; 'my back,' says she, 'may do you harm; the sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.' the sheep was feeble, and complained his sides a load of wool sustained: _ said he was slow, confessed his fears; for hounds cat sheep, as well as hares. she now the trotting calf addressed, to save from death a friend distressed. 'shall i,' says he, 'of tender age, in this important care engage? older and abler passed you by; how strong are those! how weak am i! should i presume to bear you hence, those friends of mine may take offence. _ excuse me then. you know my heart, but dearest friends, alas! must part. how shall we all lament! adieu! for see the hounds are just in view.' * * * * * part ii. published after gay's death, by the duke of queensberry. fable i. the dog and the fox. to a lawyer. i know you lawyers can with ease twist words and meanings as you please; that language, by your skill made pliant, will bend to favour every client; that 'tis the fee directs the sense, to make out either side's pretence. when you peruse the clearest case, you see it with a double face: for scepticism's your profession; you hold there's doubt in all expression. _ hence is the bar with fees supplied, hence eloquence takes either side. your hand would have but paltry gleaning could every man express his meaning. who dares presume to pen a deed. unless you previously are fee'd? 'tis drawn; and, to augment the cost, in dull prolixity engrossed. and now we're well secured by law, till the next brother find a flaw. _ read o'er a will. was't ever known, but you could make the will your own; for when you read,'tis with intent to find out meanings never meant. since things are thus, _se defendendo_, i bar fallacious innuendo. sagacious porta's[ ] skill could trace some beast or bird in every face. the head, the eye, the nose's shape, proved this an owl, and that an ape. _ when, in the sketches thus designed, resemblance brings some friend to mind, you show the piece, and give the hint, and find each feature in the print: so monstrous like the portrait's found, all know it, and the laugh goes round. like him i draw from general nature; is't i or you then fix the satire? so, sir, i beg you spare your pains in making comments on my strains. _ all private slander i detest, i judge not of my neighbour's breast: party and prejudice i hate, and write no libels on the state. shall not my fable censure vice, because a knave is over-nice? and, lest the guilty hear and dread, shall not the decalogue be read? if i lash vice in general fiction, is't i apply, or self-conviction? _ brutes are my theme. am i to blame, if men in morals are the same? i no man call an ape or ass: tis his own conscience holds the glass; thus void of all offence i write; who claims the fable, knows his right. a shepherd's dog unskilled in sports, picked up acquaintance of all sorts: among the rest, a fox he knew; by frequent chat their friendship grew. _ says reynard--' 'tis a cruel case, that man should stigmatise our race, no doubt, among us rogues you find, as among dogs, and human kind; and yet (unknown to me and you) there may be honest men and true. thus slander tries, whate'er it can, to put us on the foot with man, let my own actions recommend; no prejudice can blind a friend: _ you know me free from all disguise; my honour as my life i prize.' by talk like this, from all mistrust the dog was cured, and thought him just. as on a time the fox held forth on conscience, honesty, and worth, sudden he stopp'd; he cocked his ear; and dropp'd his brushy tail with fear. 'bless us! the hunters are abroad-- what's all that clatter on the road?' _ 'hold,' says the dog, 'we're safe from harm; 'twas nothing but a false alarm. at yonder town, 'tis market day; some farmer's wife is on the way; 'tis so, (i know her pyebald mare) dame dobbins, with her poultry ware.' reynard grew huff. says he, 'this sneer from you i little thought to hear. your meaning in your looks i see; pray, what's dame dobbins, friend, to me? _ did i e'er make her poultry thinner? prove that i owe the dame a dinner.' 'friend,' quoth the cur, 'i meant no harm; then, why so captious? why so warm? my words in common acceptation, could never give this provocation. no lamb (for ought i ever knew) may be more innocent than you.' at this, galled reynard winced and swore such language ne'er was given before: _ 'what's lamb to me? the saucy hint-- show me, base knave, which way you squint, if t'other night your master lost three lambs, am i to pay the cost? your vile reflections would imply that i'm the thief. you dog, you lie.' 'thou knave, thou fool,' the dog replied, 'the name is just, take either side; thy guilt these applications speak; sirrah,'tis conscience makes you squeak.' _ so saying, on the fox he flies, the self-convicted felon dies. * * * * * fable ii. the vulture, the sparrow, and other birds. to a friend in the country. ere i begin, i must premise our ministers are good and wise; so, though malicious tongues apply, pray what care they, or what care i? if i am free with courts; be't known, i ne'er presume to mean our own. if general morals seem to joke on ministers, and such like folk, a captious fool may take offence; what then? he knows his own pretence. _ i meddle with no state affairs, but spare my jest to save my ears. our present schemes are too profound, for machiavel himself to sound: to censure them i've no pretension; i own they're past my comprehension. you say your brother wants a place, ('tis many a younger brother's case,) and that he very soon intends to ply the court, and tease his friends. _ if there his merits chance to find a patriot of an open mind, whose constant actions prove him just to both a king's and people's trust; may he with gratitude attend, and owe his rise to such a friend. you praise his parts, for business fit, his learning, probity, and wit; but those alone will never do, unless his patron have them too. _ i've heard of times (pray god defend us, we're not so good but he can mend us) when wicked ministers have trod on kings and people, law and god; with arrogance they girt the throne, and knew no interest but their own. then virtue, from preferment barr'd, gets nothing but its own reward. a gang of petty knaves attend 'em, with proper parts to recommend 'em. _ then if their patron burn with lust, the first in favour's pimp the first. his doors are never closed to spies, who cheer his heart with double lies; they flatter him, his foes defame, so lull the pangs of guilt and shame. if schemes of lucre haunt his brain, projectors swell his greedy train; vile brokers ply his private ear with jobs of plunder for the year; _ all consciences must bend and ply; you must vote on, and not know why: through thick and thin you must go on; one scruple, and your place is gone. since plagues like these have cursed a land, and favourites cannot always stand; good courtiers should for change be ready, and not have principles too steady: for should a knave engross the power, (god shield the realm, from that sad hour,) _ he must have rogues, or slavish fools: for what's a knave without his tools? wherever those a people drain, and strut with infamy and gain, i envy not their guilt and state, and scorn to share the public hate. let their own servile creatures rise by screening fraud, and venting lies; give me, kind heaven, a private station,[ ] a mind serene for contemplation: _ title and profit i resign; the post of honour shall be mine. my fable read, their merits view, then herd who will with such a crew. in days of yore (my cautious rhymes always except the present times) a greedy vulture skilled in game, inured to guilt, unawed by shame, approached the throne in evil hour, and step by step intrudes to power; _ when at the royal eagle's ear, he longs to ease the monarch's care. the monarch grants. with pride elate, behold him minister of state! around him throng the feathered rout; friends must be served, and some must out, each thinks his own the best pretension; this asks a place, and that a pension. the nightingale was set aside, a forward daw his room supplied. _ 'this bird,' says he, 'for business fit, hath both sagacity and wit. with all his turns, and shifts, and tricks, he's docile, and at nothing sticks. then, with his neighbours one so free, at all times will connive at me.' the hawk had due distinction shown, for parts and talents like his own. thousands of hireling cocks attends him, as blustering bullies, to defend him. _ at once the ravens were discarded, and magpies with their posts rewarded. 'those fowls of omen i detest, that pry into another's nest, state-lies must lose all good intent; for they foresee and croak the event. my friends ne'er think, but talk by rote, speak what they're taught, and so to vote.' 'when rogues like these,' a sparrow cries, 'to honours and employments rise, _ i court no favour, ask no place; for such preferment is disgrace. within my thatched retreat i find (what these ne'er feel) true peace of mind.' * * * * * fable iii. the baboon and the poultry. to a levee-hunter. we frequently misplace esteem, by judging men by what they seem, to birth, wealth, power, we should allow precedence, and our lowest bow. in that is due distinction shown, esteem is virtue's right alone. with partial eye we're apt to see the man of noble pedigree. we're prepossess'd my lord inherits in some degree his grandsire's merits; _ for those we find upon record: but find him nothing but my lord. when we with superficial view, gaze on the rich, we're dazzled too. we know that wealth well understood, hath frequent power of doing good: then fancy that the thing is done, as if the power and will were one. thus oft the cheated crowd adore the thriving knaves that keep them poor. _ the cringing train of power survey: what creatures are so low as they! with what obsequiousness they bend! to what vile actions condescend! their rise is on their meanness built, and flattery is their smallest guilt. what homage, rev'rence, adoration, in every age, in every nation, have sycophants to power addressed! no matter who the power possessed. _ let ministers be what they will, you find their levees always fill. even those who have perplexed a state, whose actions claim contempt and hate, had wretches to applaud their schemes, though more absurd than madmen's dreams. when barbarous moloch was invoked, the blood of infants only smoked! but here (unless all history lies) whole realms have been a sacrifice. _ look through all courts--'tis power we find, the general idol of mankind, there worshipped under every shape; alike the lion, fox, and ape are followed by time-serving slaves, rich prostitutes, and needy knaves. who, then, shall glory in his post? how frail his pride, how vain his boast! the followers of his prosperous hour are as unstable as his power. _ power by the breath of flattery nursed, the more it swells, is nearer burst. the bubble breaks, the gewgaw ends, and in a dirty tear descends. once on a time, an ancient maid, by wishes and by time decayed, to cure the pangs of restless thought, in birds and beasts amusement sought: dogs, parrots, apes, her hours employed; with these alone she talked and toyed. _ a huge baboon her fancy took, (almost a man in size and look,) he fingered everything he found, and mimicked all the servants round. then, too, his parts and ready wit showed him for every business fit. with all these talents, 'twas but just that pug should hold a place of trust: so to her fav'rite was assigned the charge of all her feathered kind. _ 'twas his to tend 'em eve and morn, and portion out their daily corn. behold him now with haughty stride, assume a ministerial pride. the morning rose. in hope of picking, swans, turkeys, peacocks, ducks and chicken, fowls of all ranks surround his hut, to worship his important strut. the minister appears. the crowd now here, now there, obsequious bowed. _ this praised his parts, and that his face, t'other his dignity in place. from bill to bill the flattery ran: he hears and bears it like a man: for, when we flatter self-conceit, we but his sentiments repeat. if we're too scrupulously just, what profit's in a place of trust? the common practice of the great, is to secure a snug retreat. _ so pug began to turn his brain (like other folks in place) on gain. an apple-woman's stall was near, well stocked with fruits through all the year; here every day he crammed his guts, hence were his hoards of pears and nuts; for 'twas agreed (in way of trade) his payments should in corn be made. the stock of grain was quickly spent, and no account which way it went. _ then, too, the poultry's starved condition caused speculations of suspicion. the facts were proved beyond dispute; pug must refund his hoards of fruit: and, though then minister in chief, was branded as a public thief. disgraced, despised, confined to chains, he nothing but his pride retains. a goose passed by; he knew the face, seen every levee while in place. _ 'what, no respect! no reverence shown? how saucy are these creatures grown! not two days since,' says he, 'you bowed the lowest of my fawning crowd.' 'proud fool,' replies the goose,''tis true, thy corn a fluttering levee drew! for that i joined the hungry train, and sold thee flattery for thy grain. but then, as now, conceited ape, we saw thee in thy proper shape.' _ * * * * * fable iv. the ant in office. to a friend. you tell me, that you apprehend my verse may touchy folks offend. in prudence too you think my rhymes should never squint at courtiers' crimes: for though nor this, nor that is meant, can we another's thoughts prevent? you ask me if i ever knew court chaplains thus the lawn pursue. i meddle not with gown or lawn; poets, i grant, to rise must fawn. _ they know great ears are over-nice, and never shock their patron's vice. but i this hackney path despise; 'tis my ambition not to rise. if i must prostitute the muse, the base conditions i refuse. i neither flatter nor defame, yet own i would bring guilt to shame. if i corruption's hand expose, i make corrupted men my foes. _ what then? i hate the paltry tribe; be virtue mine; be theirs the bribe. i no man's property invade; corruption's yet no lawful trade. nor would it mighty ills produce, could i shame bribery out of use, i know 'twould cramp most politicians, were they tied down to these conditions. 'twould stint their power, their riches bound, and make their parts seem less profound. _ were they denied their proper tools, how could they lead their knaves and fools? were this the case, let's take a view, what dreadful mischiefs would ensue; though it might aggrandise the state, could private luxury dine on plate? kings might indeed their friends reward, but ministers find less regard. informers, sycophants, and spies, would not augment the year's supplies. _ perhaps, too, take away this prop, an annual job or two might drop. besides, if pensions were denied, could avarice support its pride? it might even ministers confound, and yet the state be safe and sound. i care not though 'tis understood i only mean my country's good: and (let who will my freedom blame) i wish all courtiers did the same. _ nay, though some folks the less might get, i wish the nation out of debt. i put no private man's ambition with public good in competition: rather than have our law defaced, i'd vote a minister disgraced. i strike at vice, be't where it will; and what if great folks take it ill? i hope corruption, bribery, pension, one may with detestation mention: _ think you the law (let who will take it) can _scandalum magnatum_ make it? i vent no slander, owe no grudge, nor of another's conscience judge: at him, or him, i take no aim, yet dare against all vice declaim. shall i not censure breach of trust, because knaves know themselves unjust? that steward, whose account is clear, demands his honour may appear: _ his actions never shun the light, he is, and would be proved upright. but then you think my fable bears allusion, too, to state affairs. i grant it does: and who's so great, that has the privilege to cheat? if, then, in any future reign (for ministers may thirst for gain;) corrupted hands defraud the nation, i bar no reader's application. _ an ant there was, whose forward prate controlled all matters in debate; whether he knew the thing or no, his tongue eternally would go. for he had impudence at will, and boasted universal skill. ambition was his point in view; thus, by degrees, to power he grew. behold him now his drift attain: he's made chief treasurer of the grain. _ but as their ancient laws are just, and punish breach of public trust, 'tis ordered (lest wrong application should starve that wise industrious nation) that all accounts be stated clear, their stock, and what defrayed the year: that auditors should these inspect, and public rapine thus be checked. for this the solemn day was set, the auditors in council met. _ the granary-keeper must explain, and balance his account of grain. he brought (since he could not refuse 'em) some scraps of paper to amuse 'em. an honest pismire, warm with zeal, in justice to the public weal, thus spoke: 'the nation's hoard is low, from whence doth this profusion flow? i know our annual funds' amount. why such expense, and where's the account?' _ with wonted arrogance and pride, the ant in office thus replied: 'consider, sirs, were secrets told, how could the best-schemed projects hold? should we state-mysteries disclose, 'twould lay us open to our foes. my duty and my well-known zeal bid me our present schemes conceal. but on my honour, all the expense (though vast) was for the swarm's defence. _ they passed the account as fair and just, and voted him implicit trust. next year again the granary drained, he thus his innocence maintained: 'think how our present matters stand, what dangers threat from every hand; what hosts of turkeys stroll for food, no farmer's wife but hath her brood. consider, when invasion's near, intelligence must cost us dear; _ and, in this ticklish situation, a secret told betrays the nation. but, on my honour, all the expense (though vast) was for the swarm's defence.' again, without examination, they thanked his sage administration. the year revolves. the treasure spent, again in secret service went. his honour too again was pledged, to satisfy the charge alleged. _ when thus, with panic shame possessed, an auditor his friends addressed: 'what are we? ministerial tools. we little knaves are greater fools. at last this secret is explored; 'tis our corruption thins the hoard. for every grain we touched, at least a thousand his own heaps increased. then for his kin, and favourite spies, a hundred hardly could suffice. _ thus, for a paltry sneaking bribe, we cheat ourselves, and all the tribe; for all the magazine contains, grows from our annual toil and pains.' they vote the account shall be inspected; the cunning plunderer is detected; the fraud is sentenced; and his hoard, as due, to public use restored. * * * * * fable v. the bear in a boat. to a coxcomb. that man must daily wiser grow, whose search is bent himself to know; impartially he weighs his scope, and on firm reason founds his hope; he tries his strength before the race, and never seeks his own disgrace; he knows the compass, sail, and oar, or never launches from the shore; before he builds, computes the cost; and in no proud pursuit is lost: _ he learns the bounds of human sense, and safely walks within the fence. thus, conscious of his own defect, are pride and self-importance check'd. if then, self-knowledge to pursue, direct our life in every view, of all the fools that pride can boast, a coxcomb claims distinction most. coxcombs are of all ranks and kind: they're not to sex or age confined, _ or rich, or poor, or great, or small; and vanity besets them all. by ignorance is pride increased: those most assume who know the least; their own false balance gives them weight, but every other finds them light. not that all coxcombs' follies strike, and draw our ridicule alike; to different merits each pretends. this in love-vanity transcends; _ that smitten with his face and shape, by dress distinguishes the ape; t'other with learning crams his shelf, knows books, and all things but himself. all these are fools of low condition, compared with coxcombs of ambition. for those, puffed up with flattery, dare assume a nation's various care. they ne'er the grossest praise mistrust, their sycophants seem hardly just; _ for these, in part alone, attest the flattery their own thoughts suggest. in this wide sphere a coxcomb's shown in other realms beside his own: the self-deemed machiavel at large by turns controls in every charge. does commerce suffer in her rights? 'tis he directs the naval flights. what sailor dares dispute his skill? he'll be an admiral when he will. _ now meddling in the soldier's trade, troops must be hired, and levies made. he gives ambassadors their cue, his cobbled treaties to renew; and annual taxes must suffice the current blunders to disguise when his crude schemes in air are lost, and millions scarce defray the cost, his arrogance (nought undismayed) trusting in self-sufficient aid, _ on other rocks misguides the realm, and thinks a pilot at the helm. he ne'er suspects his want of skill, but blunders on from ill to ill; and, when he fails of all intent, blames only unforeseen event. lest you mistake the application, the fable calls me to relation. a bear of shag and manners rough, at climbing trees expert enough; _ for dextrously, and safe from harm, year after year he robbed the swarm. thus thriving on industrious toil, he gloried in his pilfered spoil. this trick so swelled him with conceit, he thought no enterprise too great. alike in sciences and arts, he boasted universal parts; pragmatic, busy, bustling, bold, his arrogance was uncontrolled: _ and thus he made his party good, and grew dictator of the wood. the beasts with admiration stare, and think him a prodigious bear. were any common booty got, 'twas his each portion to allot: for why, he found there might be picking, even in the carving of a chicken. intruding thus, he by degrees claimed too the butcher's larger fees. _ and now his over-weening pride in every province will preside. no talk too difficult was found: his blundering nose misleads the hound. in stratagem and subtle arts, he overrules the fox's parts. it chanced, as, on a certain day, along the bank he took his way, a boat, with rudder, sail, and oar, at anchor floated near the shore. _ he stopp'd, and turning to his train, thus pertly vents his vaunting strain: 'what blundering puppies are mankind, in every science always blind! i mock the pedantry of schools. what are their compasses and rules? from me that helm shall conduct learn. and man his ignorance discern.' so saying, with audacious pride, he gains the boat, and climbs the side. _ the beasts astonished, lined the strand, the anchor's weighed, he drives from land: the slack sail shifts from side to side; the boat untrimmed admits the tide, borne down, adrift, at random toss'd, his oar breaks short, the rudder's lost. the bear, presuming in his skill, is here and there officious still; till striking on the dangerous sands, aground the shattered vessel stands. _ to see the bungler thus distress'd, the very fishes sneer and jest. even gudgeons join in ridicule, to mortify the meddling fool. the clamorous watermen appear; threats, curses, oaths, insult his ear: seized, thrashed, and chained, he's dragged to land; derision shouts along the strand. * * * * * fable vi. the squire and his cur. to a country gentleman. the man of pure and simple heart through life disdains a double part. he never needs the screen of lies his inward bosom to disguise. in vain malicious tongues assail; let envy snarl, let slander rail, from virtue's shield (secure from wound) their blunted, venomed shafts rebound. so shines his light before mankind, his actions prove his honest mind. _ if in his country's cause he rise, debating senates to advise, unbribed, unawed, he dares impart the honest dictates of his heart. no ministerial frown he fears, but in his virtue perseveres. but would you play the politician, whose heart's averse to intuition, your lips at all times, nay, your reason must be controlled by place and season. _ what statesman could his power support were lying tongues forbid the court? did princely ears to truth attend, what minister could gain his end? how could he raise his tools to place, and how his honest foes disgrace? that politician tops his part, who readily can lie with art: the man's proficient in his trade; his power is strong, his fortune's made. _ by that the interest of the throne is made subservient to his own: by that have kings of old, deluded, all their own friends for his excluded. by that, his selfish schemes pursuing, he thrives upon the public ruin. antiochus,[ ] with hardy pace, provoked the dangers of the chase; and, lost from all his menial train, traversed the wood and pathless plain. _ a cottage lodged the royal guest! the parthian clown brought forth his best. the king, unknown, his feast enjoyed, and various chat the hours employed. from wine what sudden friendship springs! frankly they talked of courts and kings. 'we country-folks,' the clown replies, 'could ope our gracious monarch's eyes. the king, (as all our neighbours say,) might he (god bless him) have his way, _ is sound at heart, and means our good, and he would do it, if he could. if truth in courts were not forbid, nor kings nor subjects would be rid. were he in power, we need not doubt him: but that transferred to those about him, on them he throws the regal cares: and what mind they? their own affairs. if such rapacious hands he trust, the best of men may seem unjust. _ from kings to cobblers 'tis the same: bad servants wound their master's fame. in this our neighbours all agree: would the king knew as much as we.' here he stopp'd short. repose they sought, the peasant slept, the monarch thought. the courtiers learned, at early dawn, where their lost sovereign was withdrawn. the guards' approach our host alarms, with gaudy coats the cottage swarms. _ the crown and purple robes they bring, and prostrate fall before the king. the clown was called, the royal guest by due reward his thanks express'd. the king then, turning to the crowd, who fawningly before him bow'd, thus spoke: 'since, bent on private gain, your counsels first misled my reign, taught and informed by you alone, no truth the royal ear hath known, _ till here conversing. hence, ye crew, for now i know myself and you.' whene'er the royal ear's engross'd, state-lies but little genius cost. the favourite then securely robs, and gleans a nation by his jobs. franker and bolder grown in ill, he daily poisons dares instil; and, as his present views suggest, inflames or soothes the royal breast. _ thus wicked ministers oppress, when oft the monarch means redress. would kings their private subjects hear, a minister must talk with fear. if honesty opposed his views, he dared not innocence excuse. 'twould keep him in such narrow bound, he could not right and wrong confound. happy were kings, could they disclose their real friends and real foes! _ were both themselves and subjects known, a monarch's will might be his own. had he the use of ears and eyes, knaves would no more be counted wise. but then a minister might lose (hard case!) his own ambitious views. when such as these have vexed a state, pursued by universal hate, their false support at once hath failed, and persevering truth prevailed. _ exposed their train of fraud is seen; truth will at last remove the screen. a country squire, by whim directed, the true stanch dogs of chase neglected. beneath his board no hound was fed, his hand ne'er stroked the spaniel's head. a snappish cur, alone caress'd, by lies had banished all the rest. yap had his ear; and defamation gave him full scope of conversation. _ his sycophants must be preferr'd, room must be made for all his herd: wherefore, to bring his schemes about, old faithful servants all must out. the cur on every creature flew, (as other great men's puppies do,) unless due court to him were shown, and both their face and business known, no honest tongue an audience found: he worried all the tenants round; _ for why, he lived in constant fear, lest truth, by chance, should interfere. if any stranger dare intrude, the noisy cur his heels pursued. now fierce with rage, now struck with dread, at once he snarled, bit, and fled. aloof he bays, with bristling hair, and thus in secret growls his fear: 'who knows but truth, in this disguise, may frustrate my best-guarded lies? _ should she (thus masked) admittance find, that very hour my ruin's signed.' now, in his howl's continued sound, their words were lost, their voice was drown'd. ever in awe of honest tongues, thus every day he strained his lungs. it happened, in ill-omened hour, that yap, unmindful of his power, forsook his post, to love inclined; a favourite bitch was in the wind. _ by her seduced, in amorous play, they frisked the joyous hours away. thus, by untimely love pursuing, like antony, he sought his ruin. for now the squire, unvexed with noise, an honest neighbour's chat enjoys. 'be free,' says he, 'your mind impart; i love a friendly open heart. methinks my tenants shun my gate; why such a stranger grown of late? _ pray tell me what offence they find: 'tis plain they're not so well inclined.' 'turn off your cur,' the farmer cries, 'who feeds your ear with daily lies. his snarling insolence offends; 'tis he that keeps you from your friends. were but that saucy puppy check'd, you'd find again the same respect. hear only him, he'll swear it too, that all our hatred is to you. _ but learn from us your true estate; 'tis that cursed cur alone we hate.' the squire heard truth. now yap rushed in; the wide hall echoes with his din: yet truth prevailed; and with disgrace, the dog was cudgelled out of place. * * * * * fable vii. the countryman and jupiter. to myself. have you a friend (look round and spy) so fond, so prepossessed as i? your faults, so obvious to mankind, my partial eyes could never find. when by the breath of fortune blown, your airy castles were o'erthrown; have i been over-prone to blame, or mortified your hours with shame? was i e'er known to damp your spirit, or twit you with the want of merit? _ 'tis not so strange, that fortune's frown still perseveres to keep you down. look round, and see what others do. would you be rich and honest too? have you (like those she raised to place) been opportunely mean and base? have you (as times required) resigned truth, honour, virtue, peace of mind? if these are scruples, give her o'er; write, practise morals, and be poor. _ the gifts of fortune truly rate; then tell me what would mend your state. if happiness on wealth were built, rich rogues might comfort find in guilt; as grows the miser's hoarded store, his fears, his wants, increase the more. think, gay, (what ne'er may be the case,) should fortune take you into grace, would that your happiness augment? what can she give beyond content? _ suppose yourself a wealthy heir, with a vast annual income clear! in all the affluence you possess, you might not feel one care the less. might you not then (like others) find with change of fortune, change of mind? perhaps, profuse beyond all rule, you might start out a glaring fool; your luxury might break all bounds; plate, table, horses, stewards, hounds, _ might swell your debts: then, lust of play no regal income can defray. sunk is all credit, writs assail, and doom your future life to jail. or were you dignified with power, would that avert one pensive hour? you might give avarice its swing, defraud a nation, blind a king: then, from the hirelings in your cause, though daily fed with false applause, _ could it a real joy impart? great guilt knew never joy at heart. is happiness your point in view? (i mean the intrinsic and the true) she nor in camps or courts resides, nor in the humble cottage hides; yet found alike in every sphere; who finds content, will find her there. o'erspent with toil, beneath the shade, a peasant rested on his spade. _ 'good gods!' he cries, ''tis hard to bear this load of life from year to year. soon as the morning streaks the skies, industrious labour bids me rise; with sweat i earn my homely fare, and every day renews my care.' jove heard the discontented strain, and thus rebuked the murmuring swain: 'speak out your wants then, honest friend: unjust complaints the gods offend. _ if you repine at partial fate, instruct me what could mend your state. mankind in every station see. what wish you? tell me what you'd be.' so said, upborne upon a cloud, the clown surveyed the anxious crowd. 'yon face of care,' says jove, 'behold, his bulky bags are filled with gold. see with what joy he counts it o'er! that sum to-day hath swelled his store.' _ 'were i that man,' the peasant cried, 'what blessing could i ask beside?' 'hold,' says the god; 'first learn to know true happiness from outward show. this optic glass of intuition---- here, take it, view his true condition.' he looked, and saw the miser's breast, a troubled ocean, ne'er at rest; want ever stares him in the face, and fear anticipates disgrace: _ with conscious guilt he saw him start; extortion gnaws his throbbing heart; and never, or in thought or dream, his breast admits one happy gleam. 'may jove,' he cries, 'reject my prayer, and guard my life from guilt and care. my soul abhors that wretch's fate. o keep me in my humble state! but see, amidst a gaudy crowd, yon minister, so gay and proud, _ on him what happiness attends, who thus rewards his grateful friends!' 'first take the glass,' the god replies: 'man views the world with partial eyes.' 'good gods!' exclaims the startled wight, 'defend me from this hideous sight! corruption, with corrosive smart, lies cankering on his guilty heart: i see him, with polluted hand, spread the contagion o'er the land, _ now avarice with insatiate jaws, now rapine with her harpy claws his bosom tears. his conscious breast groans, with a load of crimes oppress'd. see him, mad and drunk with power, stand tottering on ambition's tower. sometimes, in speeches vain and proud, his boasts insult the nether crowd; now, seized with giddiness and fear, he trembles lest his fall is near. _ 'was ever wretch like this?' he cries; 'such misery in such disguise! the change, o jove, i disavow; still be my lot the spade and plough.' he next, confirmed by speculation, rejects the lawyer's occupation; for he the statesman seemed in part, and bore similitude of heart. nor did the soldier's trade inflame his hopes with thirst of spoil and fame, _ the miseries of war he mourned; whole nations into deserts turned. by these have laws and rights been braved; by these were free-born men enslaved: when battles and invasion cease, why swarm they in a land of peace? 'such change,' says he, 'may i decline; the scythe and civil arms be mine!' thus, weighing life in each condition, the clown withdrew his rash petition. _ when thus the god: 'how mortals err! if you true happiness prefer, 'tis to no rank of life confined, but dwells in every honest mind. be justice then your sole pursuit: plant virtue, and content's the fruit.' so jove, to gratify the clown, where first he found him set him down. * * * * * fable viii. the man, the cat, the dog, and the fly. to my native country. hail, happy land, whose fertile grounds the liquid fence of neptune bounds; by bounteous nature set apart, the seat of industry and art! o britain! chosen port of trade, may luxury ne'er thy sons invade; may never minister (intent his private treasures to augment) corrupt thy state. if jealous foes thy rights of commerce dare oppose, _ shall not thy fleets their rapine awe? who is't prescribes the ocean law? whenever neighbouring states contend, 'tis thine to be the general friend. what is't, who rules in other lands? on trade alone thy glory stands. that benefit is unconfined, diffusing good among mankind: that first gave lustre to thy reigns, and scattered plenty o'er thy plains: _ 'tis that alone thy wealth supplies, and draws all europe's envious eyes. be commerce then thy sole design; keep that, and all the world is thine. when naval traffic ploughs the main, who shares not in the merchant's gain? 'tis that supports the regal state, and makes the farmer's heart elate: the numerous flocks, that clothe the land, can scarce supply the loom's demand; _ prolific culture glads the fields, and the bare heath a harvest yields. nature expects mankind should share the duties of the public care. who's born for sloth?[ ] to some we find the ploughshare's annual toil assign'd. some at the sounding anvil glow; some the swift-sliding shuttle throw; some, studious of the wind and tide, from pole to pole our commerce guide: _ some (taught by industry) impart with hands and feet the works of art; while some, of genius more refined, with head and tongue assist mankind: each, aiming at one common end, proves to the whole a needful friend. thus, born each other's useful aid, by turns are obligations paid. the monarch, when his table's spread, is to the clown obliged for bread; _ and when in all his glory dress'd, owes to the loom his royal vest. do not the mason's toil and care protect him from the inclement air? does not the cutler's art supply the ornament that guards his thigh? all these, in duty to the throne, their common obligations own. 'tis he (his own and people's cause) protects their properties and laws. _ thus they their honest toil employ, and with content their fruits enjoy. in every rank, or great or small, 'tis industry supports us all. the animals by want oppressed, to man their services addressed; while each pursued their selfish good, they hungered for precarious food. their hours with anxious cares were vex'd; one day they fed, and starved the next. _ they saw that plenty, sure and rife, was found alone in social life; that mutual industry professed, the various wants of man redressed. the cat, half-famished, lean and weak, demands the privilege to speak. 'well, puss,' says man, 'and what can you to benefit the public do?' the cat replies: 'these teeth, these claws, with vigilance shall serve the cause. _ the mouse destroyed by my pursuit, no longer shall your feasts pollute; nor rats, from nightly ambuscade, with wasteful teeth your stores invade.' 'i grant,' says man, 'to general use your parts and talents may conduce; for rats and mice purloin our grain, and threshers whirl the flail in vain: thus shall the cat, a foe to spoil, protect the farmer's honest toil,' _ then, turning to the dog, he cried, 'well, sir; be next your merits tried.' 'sir,' says the dog, 'by self-applause we seem to own a friendless cause. ask those who know me, if distrust e'er found me treacherous or unjust? did i e'er faith or friendship break? ask all those creatures; let them speak. my vigilance and trusty zeal perhaps might serve the public weal. _ might not your flocks in safety feed, were i to guard the fleecy breed? did i the nightly watches keep, could thieves invade you while you sleep?' the man replies: ''tis just and right; rewards such service should requite. so rare, in property, we find trust uncorrupt among mankind, that, taken, in a public view, the first distinction is your due. _ such merits all reward transcend: be then my comrade and my friend.' addressing now the fly: 'from you what public service can accrue?' 'from me!' the flutt'ring insect said; 'i thought you knew me better bred. sir, i'm a gentleman. is't fit that i to industry submit? let mean mechanics, to be fed by business earn ignoble bread. _ lost in excess of daily joys, no thought, no care my life annoys, at noon (the lady's matin hour) i sip the tea's delicious flower. on cakes luxuriously i dine, and drink the fragrance of the vine. studious of elegance and ease, myself alone i seek to please.' the man his pert conceit derides, and thus the useless coxcomb chides: _ 'hence, from that peach, that downy seat, no idle fool deserves to eat. could you have sapped the blushing rind, and on that pulp ambrosial dined, had not some hand with skill and toil, to raise the tree, prepared the soil? consider, sot, what would ensue, were all such worthless things as you. you'd soon be forced (by hunger stung) to make your dirty meals on dung; _ on which such despicable need, unpitied, is reduced to feed; besides, vain selfish insect, learn (if you can right and wrong discern) that he who, with industrious zeal, contributes to the public weal, by adding to the common good, his own hath rightly understood.' so saying, with a sudden blow, he laid the noxious vagrant low. _ crushed in his luxury and pride, the spunger on the public died. * * * * * fable ix. the jackall, leopard, and other beasts to a modern politician. i grant corruption sways mankind; that interest too perverts the mind; that bribes have blinded common sense, foiled reason, truth, and eloquence: i grant you too, our present crimes can equal those of former times. against plain facts shall i engage, to vindicate our righteous age? i know, that in a modern fist, bribes in full energy subsist. _ since then these arguments prevail, and itching palms are still so frail, hence politicians, you suggest, should drive the nail that goes the best; that it shows parts and penetration, to ply men with the right temptation. to this i humbly must dissent; premising no reflection's meant. does justice or the client's sense teach lawyers either side's defence? _ the fee gives eloquence its spirit; that only is the client's merit. does art, wit, wisdom, or address, obtain the prostitute's caress? the guinea (as in other trades) from every hand alike persuades. man, scripture says, is prone to evil, but does that vindicate the devil? besides, the more mankind are prone, the less the devil's parts are shown. _ corruption's not of modern date; it hath been tried in every state. great knaves of old their power have fenced, by places, pensions, bribes, dispensed; by these they gloried in success, and impudently dared oppress; by these despoticly they swayed, and slaves extolled the hand that paid; nor parts, nor genius were employed, by these alone were realms destroyed. _ now see these wretches in disgrace, stripp'd of their treasures, power, and place; view them abandoned and forlorn, exposed to just reproach and scorn. what now is all your pride, your boast? where are your slaves, your flattering host? what tongues now feed you with applause? where are the champions of your cause? now even that very fawning train which shared the gleanings of your gain, _ press foremost who shall first accuse your selfish jobs, your paltry views, your narrow schemes, your breach of trust, and want of talents to be just. what fools were these amidst their power! how thoughtless of their adverse hour! what friends were made? a hireling herd, for temporary votes preferr'd. was it, these sycophants to get, your bounty swelled a nation's debt? _ you're bit. for these, like swiss attend; no longer pay, no longer friend. the lion is, beyond dispute, allowed the most majestic brute; his valour and his generous mind prove him superior of his kind. yet to jackals (as 'tis averred) some lions have their power transferred; as if the parts of pimps and spies to govern forests could suffice. _ once, studious of his private good, a proud jackal oppressed the wood; to cram his own insatiate jaws, invaded property and laws; the forest groans with discontent, fresh wrongs the general hate foment, the spreading murmurs reached his ear; his secret hours were vexed with fear. night after night he weighs the case, and feels the terrors of disgrace. _ 'by friends,' says he, 'i'll guard my seat, by those malicious tongues defeat: i'll strengthen power by new allies, and all my clamorous foes despise.' to make the generous beasts his friends, he cringes, fawns, and condescends; but those repulsed his abject court, and scorned oppression to support. friends must be had. he can't subsist. bribes shall new proselytes inlist. _ but these nought weighed in honest paws; for bribes confess a wicked cause: yet think not every paw withstands what had prevailed in human hands. a tempting turnip's silver skin drew a base hog through thick and thin: bought with a stag's delicious haunch, the mercenary wolf was stanch: the convert fox grew warm and hearty, a pullet gained him to the party; _ the golden pippin in his fist, a chattering monkey joined the list. but soon exposed to public hate, the favourite's fall redressed the state. the leopard, vindicating right, had brought his secret frauds to light, as rats, before the mansion falls, desert late hospitable walls, in shoals the servile creatures run, to bow before the rising sun. _ the hog with warmth expressed his zeal, and was for hanging those that steal; but hoped, though low, the public hoard might half a turnip still afford. since saving measures were profess'd, a lamb's head was the wolf's request. the fox submitted if to touch a gosling would be deemed too much. the monkey thought his grin and chatter, might ask a nut or some such matter. _ 'ye hirelings, hence,' the leopard cries; 'your venal conscience i despise. he who the public good intends, by bribes needs never purchase friends. who acts this just, this open part, is propp'd by every honest heart. corruption now too late hath showed, that bribes are always ill-bestowed, by you your bubbled master's taught, time-serving tools, not friends, are bought.' _ * * * * * fable x. the degenerate bees. to the reverend dr swift, dean of st patrick's. though courts the practice disallow, a friend at all times i'll avow. in politics i know 'tis wrong: a friendship may be kept too long; and what they call the prudent part, is to wear interest next the heart, as the times take a different face, old friendships should to new give place. i know too you have many foes, that owning you is sharing those, _ that every knave in every station, of high and low denomination, for what you speak, and what you write, dread you at once, and bear you spite. such freedoms in your works are shown they can't enjoy what's not their own; all dunces too, in church and state, in frothy nonsense show their hate; with all the petty scribbling crew, (and those pert sots are not a few,) _ 'gainst you and pope their envy spurt, the booksellers alone are hurt. good gods! by what a powerful race (for blockheads may have power and place) are scandals raised and libels writ! to prove your honesty and wit! think with yourself: those worthy men, you know, have suffered by your pen. from them you've nothing but your due. from thence, 'tis plain, your friends are few. _ except myself, i know of none, besides the wise and good alone. to set the case in fairer light, my fable shall the rest recite; which (though unlike our present state) i for the moral's sake relate. a bee of cunning, not of parts, luxurious, negligent of arts, rapacious, arrogant, and vain, greedy of power, but more of gain, _ corruption sowed throughout the hive, by petty rogues the great ones thrive. as power and wealth his views supplied, 'twas seen in over-bearing pride. with him loud impudence had merit; the bee of conscience wanted spirit; and those who followed honour's rules, were laughed to scorn for squeamish fools, wealth claimed distinction, favour, grace; and poverty alone was base. _ he treated industry with slight, unless he found his profit by't. eights, laws, and liberties gave way, to bring his selfish schemes in play. the swarm forgot the common toil, to share the gleanings of his spoil. 'while vulgar souls of narrow parts, waste life in low mechanic arts, let us,' says he, 'to genius born, the drudgery of our fathers scorn. _ the wasp and drone, you must agree, live with more elegance than we. like gentlemen they sport and play; no business interrupts the day; their hours to luxury they give, and nobly on their neighbours live.' a stubborn bee, among the swarm, with honest indignation warm, thus from his cell with zeal replied: 'i slight thy frowns, and hate thy pride. _ the laws our native rights protect; offending thee, i those respect. shall luxury corrupt the hive, and none against the torrent strive? exert the honour of your race; he builds his rise on your disgrace. 'tis industry our state maintains: 'twas honest toils and honest gains that raised our sires to power and fame. be virtuous; save yourselves from shame. _ know, that in selfish ends pursuing, you scramble for the public ruin.' he spoke; and from his cell dismissed, was insolently scoffed and hissed. with him a friend or two resigned, disdaining the degenerate kind. 'these drones,' says he, 'these insects vile, (i treat them in their proper style,) may for a time oppress the state, they own our virtue by their hate; _ by that our merits they reveal, and recommend our public zeal; disgraced by this corrupted crew, we're honoured by the virtuous few.' * * * * * fable xi. the pack-horse and the carrier. to a young nobleman. begin, my lord, in early youth, to suffer, nay, encourage truth: and blame me not for disrespect, if i the flatterer's style reject; with that, by menial tongues supplied, you're daily cocker'd up in pride. the tree's distinguished by the fruit, be virtue then your sole pursuit; set your great ancestors in view, like them deserve the title too; _ like them ignoble actions scorn: let virtue prove you greatly born. though with less plate their sideboard shone, their conscience always was their own; they ne'er at levees meanly fawned, nor was their honour yearly pawned; their hands, by no corruption stained, the ministerial bribe disdained; they served the crown with loyal zeal; yet, jealous of the public weal, _ they stood the bulwark of our laws, and wore at heart their country's cause; by neither place or pension bought, they spoke and voted as they thought. thus did your sires adorn their seat; and such alone are truly great. if you the paths of learning slight, you're but a dunce in stronger light; in foremost rank the coward placed, is more conspicuously disgraced. _ if you to serve a paltry end, to knavish jobs can condescend, we pay you the contempt that's due; in that you have precedence too. whence had you this illustrious name? from virtue and unblemished fame. by birth the name alone descends; your honour on yourself depends: think not your coronet can hide assuming ignorance and pride. _ learning by study must be won, 'twas ne'er entailed from son to son. superior worth your rank requires; for that mankind reveres your sires; if you degenerate from your race, their merits heighten your disgrace. a carrier, every night and morn, would see his horses eat their corn: this sunk the hostler's vails, 'tis true; but then his horses had their due. _ were we so cautious in all cases, small gain would rise from greater places. the manger now had all its measure; he heard the grinding teeth with pleasure; when all at once confusion rung; they snorted, jostled, bit, and flung: a pack-horse turned his head aside, foaming, his eye-balls swelled with pride. 'good gods!' says he, 'how hard's my lot! is then my high descent forgot? _ reduced to drudgery and disgrace, (a life unworthy of my race,) must i too bear the vile attacks of rugged scrubs, and vulgar hacks? see scurvy roan, that brute ill-bred, dares from the manger thrust my head! shall i, who boast a noble line, on offals of these creatures dine? kicked by old ball! so mean a foe! my honour suffers by the blow. _ newmarket speaks my grandsire's fame, all jockies still revere his name: there yearly are his triumphs told, there all his massy plates enrolled. whene'er led forth upon the plain, you saw him with a livery train; returning too with laurels crowned, you heard the drums and trumpets sound. let it then, sir, be understood, respect's my due; for i have blood.' _ 'vain-glorious fool!' the carrier cried, 'respect was never paid to pride. know, 'twas thy giddy wilful heart reduced thee to this slavish part. did not thy headstrong youth disdain to learn the conduct of the rein? thus coxcombs, blind to real merit, in vicious frolics fancy spirit. what is't to me by whom begot? thou restive, pert, conceited sot. _ your sires i reverence; 'tis their due: but, worthless fool, what's that to you? ask all the carriers on the road, they'll say thy keeping's ill bestowed. then vaunt no more thy noble race, that neither mends thy strength or pace. what profits me thy boast of blood? an ass hath more intrinsic good. by outward show let's not be cheated; an ass should like an ass be treated.' _ * * * * * fable xii. pan and fortune. to a young heir. soon as your father's death was known, (as if the estate had been their own) the gamesters outwardly express'd the decent joy within your breast. so lavish in your praise they grew, as spoke their certain hopes in you. one counts your income of the year, how much in ready money clear. 'no house,' says he, 'is more complete; the garden's elegant and great. _ how fine the park around it lies! the timber's of a noble size! then count his jewels and his plate. besides, 'tis no entailed estate. if cash run low, his lands in fee are, or for sale, or mortgage free.' thus they, before you threw the main, seem to anticipate their gain. would you, when thieves were known abroad, bring forth your treasures in the road? _ would not the fool abet the stealth, who rashly thus exposed his wealth? yet this you do, whene'er you play among the gentlemen of prey. could fools to keep their own contrive, on what, on whom could gamesters thrive? is it in charity you game, to save your worthy gang from shame? unless you furnished daily bread, which way could idleness be fed? _ could these professors of deceit within the law no longer cheat, they must run bolder risks for prey, and strip the traveller on the way. thus in your annual rents they share, and 'scape the noose from year to year. consider, ere you make the bet, that sum might cross your tailor's debt. when you the pilfering rattle shake, is not your honour too at stake? _ must you not by mean lies evade to-morrow's duns from every trade? by promises so often paid, is yet your tailor's bill defrayed? must you not pitifully fawn, to have your butcher's writ withdrawn? this must be done. in debts of play your honour suffers no delay: and not this year's and next year's rent the sons of rapine can content. _ look round. the wrecks of play behold, estates dismembered, mortgaged, sold! their owners, not to jails confined, show equal poverty of mind. some, who the spoil of knaves were made, too late attempt to learn their trade. some, for the folly of one hour, become the dirty tools of power, and, with the mercenary list, upon court-charity subsist. _ you'll find at last this maxim true, fools are the game which knaves pursue. the forest (a whole century's shade) must be one wasteful ruin made. no mercy's shewn to age or kind; the general massacre is signed. the park too shares the dreadful fate, for duns grow louder at the gate, stern clowns, obedient to the squire, (what will not barbarous hands for hire?) _ with brawny arms repeat the stroke. fallen are the elm and reverend oak. through the long wood loud axes sound, and echo groans with every wound. to see the desolation spread, pan drops a tear, and hangs his head: his bosom now with fury burns: beneath his hoof the dice he spurns. cards, too, in peevish passion torn, the sport of whirling winds are borne. _ 'to snails inveterate hate i bear, who spoil the verdure of the year; the caterpillar i detest, the blooming spring's voracious pest; the locust too, whose ravenous band spreads sudden famine o'er the land. but what are these? the dice's throw at once hath laid a forest low. the cards are dealt, the bet is made, and the wide park hath lost its shade. _ thus is my kingdom's pride defaced, and all its ancient glories waste. all this,' he cries, 'is fortune's doing: 'tis thus she meditates my ruin. by fortune, that false, fickle jade, more havoc in one hour is made, than all the hungry insect race, combined, can in an age deface.' fortune, by chance, who near him pass'd, o'erheard the vile aspersion cast. _ 'why, pan,' says she, 'what's all this rant? 'tis every country-bubble's cant; am i the patroness of vice? is't i who cog or palm the dice? did i the shuffling art reveal, to mark the cards, or range the deal? in all the employments men pursue, i mind the least what gamesters do. there may (if computation's just) one now and then my conduct trust: _ i blame the fool, for what can i, when ninety-nine my power defy? these trust alone their fingers' ends, and not one stake on me depends. whene'er the gaming board is set, two classes of mankind are met: but if we count the greedy race, the knaves fill up the greater space. 'tis a gross error, held in schools, that fortune always favours fools. _ in play it never bears dispute; that doctrine these felled oaks confute. then why to me such rancour show? 'tis folly, pan, that is thy foe. by me his late estate he won, but he by folly was undone.' * * * * * fable xiii. plutus, cupid, and time. of all the burdens man must bear, time seems most galling and severe: beneath this grievous load oppressed, we daily meet some friend distressed. 'what can one do? i rose at nine. 'tis full six hours before we dine: six hours! no earthly thing to do! would i had dozed in bed till two.' a pamphlet is before him spread, and almost half a page is read; _ tired with the study of the day, the fluttering sheets are tossed away. he opes his snuff-box, hums an air, then yawns, and stretches in his chair. 'not twenty, by the minute hand! good gods:' says he, 'my watch must stand! how muddling 'tis on books to pore! i thought i'd read an hour or more, the morning, of all hours, i hate. one can't contrive to rise too late.' _ to make the minutes faster run, then too his tiresome self to shun, to the next coffee-house he speeds, takes up the news, some scraps he reads. sauntering, from chair to chair he trails; now drinks his tea, now bites his nails. he spies a partner of his woe; by chat afflictions lighter grow; each other's grievances they share, and thus their dreadful hours compare. _ says tom, 'since all men must confess, that time lies heavy more or less; why should it be so hard to get till two, a party at piquet? play might relieve the lagging morn: by cards long wintry nights are borne: does not quadrille amuse the fair, night after night, throughout the year? vapours and spleen forgot, at play they cheat uncounted hours away.' _ 'my case,' says will, 'then must be hard by want of skill from play debarred. courtiers kill time by various ways; dependence wears out half their days. how happy these, whose time ne'er stands! attendance takes it off their hands. were it not for this cursed shower the park had whiled away an hour. at court, without or place or view, i daily lose an hour or two; _ it fully answers my design, when i have picked up friends to dine, the tavern makes our burden light; wine puts our time and care to flight. at six (hard case!) they call to pay. where can one go? i hate the play. from six till ten! unless in sleep, one cannot spend the hours so cheap. the comedy's no sooner done, but some assembly is begun; _ loit'ring from room to room i stray; converse, but nothing hear or say: quite tired, from fair to fair i roam. so soon: i dread the thoughts of home. from thence, to quicken slow-paced night, again my tavern-friends invite: here too our early mornings pass, till drowsy sleep retards the glass.' thus they their wretched life bemoan, and make each other's case their own. _ consider, friends, no hour rolls on, but something of your grief is gone. were you to schemes of business bred, did you the paths of learning tread. your hours, your days, would fly too fast; you'd then regret the minute past, time's fugitive and light as wind! 'tis indolence that clogs your mind! that load from off your spirits shake; you'll own and grieve for your mistake; _ a while your thoughtless spleen suspend, then read, and (if you can) attend. as plutus, to divert his care, walked forth one morn to take the air, cupid o'ertook his strutting pace, each stared upon the stranger's face, till recollection set them right; for each knew t'other but by sight. after some complimental talk, time met them, bowed, and joined their walk. _ their chat on various subjects ran, but most, what each had done for man. plutus assumes a haughty air, just like our purse-proud fellows here. 'let kings,' says he, 'let cobblers tell, whose gifts among mankind excel. consider courts: what draws their train? think you 'tis loyalty or gain? that statesman hath the strongest hold, whose tool of politics is gold. _ by that, in former reigns, 'tis said, the knave in power hath senates led. by that alone he swayed debates, enriched himself and beggared states. forego your boast. you must conclude, that's most esteemed that's most pursued. think too, in what a woful plight that wretch must live whose pocket's light. are not his hours by want depress'd? penurious care corrodes his breast. _ without respect, or love, or friends, his solitary day descends.' 'you might,' says cupid, 'doubt my parts, my knowledge too in human hearts, should i the power of gold dispute, which great examples might confute. i know, when nothing else prevails, persuasive money seldom fails; that beauty too (like other wares) its price, as well as conscience, bears. _ then marriage (as of late profess'd) is but a money-job at best. consent, compliance may be sold: but love's beyond the price of gold. smugglers there are, who by retail, expose what they call love, to sale, such bargains are an arrant cheat: you purchase flattery and deceit. those who true love have ever tried, (the common cares of life supplied,) _ no wants endure, no wishes make, but every real joy partake, all comfort on themselves depends; they want nor power, nor wealth, nor friends. love then hath every bliss in store: 'tis friendship, and 'tis something more. each other every wish they give, not to know love, is not to live.' 'or love, or money,' time replied, 'were men the question to decide, _ would bear the prize: on both intent, my boon's neglected or misspent. 'tis i who measure vital space, and deal out years to human race. though little prized, and seldom sought, without me love and gold are nought. how does the miser time employ? did i e'er see him life enjoy? by me forsook, the hoards he won, are scattered by his lavish son. _ by me all useful arts are gained; wealth, learning, wisdom is attained. who then would think (since such, my power) that e'er i knew an idle hour? so subtle and so swift i fly, love's not more fugitive than i. who hath not heard coquettes complain of days, months, years, misspent in vain? for time misused they pine and waste, and love's sweet pleasures never taste. _ those who direct their time aright, if love or wealth their hopes excite, in each pursuit fit hours employed, and both by time have been enjoyed. how heedless then are mortals grown! how little is their interest known? in every view they ought to mind me; for when once lost they never find me.' he spoke. the gods no more contest, and his superior gift confess'd; _ that time when (truly understood) is the most precious earthly good. * * * * * fable xiv. the owl, the swan, the cock, the spider, the ass, and the farmer. to a mother. conversing with your sprightly boys, your eyes have spoke the mother's joys. with what delight i've heard you quote their sayings in imperfect note! i grant, in body and in mind, nature appears profusely kind. trust not to that. act you your part; imprint just morals on their heart, impartially their talents scan: just education forms the man. _ perhaps (their genius yet unknown) each lot of life's already thrown; that this shall plead, the next shall fight, the last assert the church's right. i censure not the fond intent; but how precarious is the event! by talents misapplied and cross'd, consider, all your sons are lost. one day (the tale's by martial penned) a father thus addressed his friend: _ 'to train my boy, and call forth sense, you know i've stuck at no expense; i've tried him in the several arts, (the lad no doubt hath latent parts,) yet trying all, he nothing knows; but, crab-like, rather backward goes. teach me what yet remains undone; 'tis your advice shall fix my son.' 'sir,' says the friend, 'i've weighed the matter; excuse me, for i scorn to flatter: _ make him (nor think his genius checked) a herald or an architect.' perhaps (as commonly 'tis known) he heard the advice, and took his own. the boy wants wit; he's sent to school, where learning but improves the fool: the college next must give him parts, and cram him with the liberal arts. whether he blunders at the bar, or owes his infamy to war; _ or if by licence or degree the sexton shares the doctor's fee: or from the pulpit by the hour he weekly floods of nonsense pour; we find (the intent of nature foiled) a tailor or a butcher spoiled. thus ministers have royal boons conferred on blockheads and buffoons: in spite of nature, merit, wit, their friends for every post were fit. _ but now let every muse confess that merit finds its due success. the examples of our days regard; where's virtue seen without reward? distinguished and in place you find desert and worth of every kind. survey the reverend bench, and see, religion, learning, piety: the patron, ere he recommends, sees his own image in his friends. _ is honesty disgraced and poor? what is't to us what was before? we all of times corrupt have heard, when paltry minions were preferred; when all great offices by dozens, were filled by brothers, sons, and cousins. what matter ignorance and pride? the man was happily allied. provided that his clerk was good, what though he nothing understood? _ in church and state, the sorry race grew more conspicuous fools in place. such heads, as then a treaty made, had bungled in the cobbler's trade. consider, patrons, that such elves, expose your folly with themselves. 'tis yours, as 'tis the parent's care, to fix each genius in its sphere. your partial hand can wealth dispense, but never give a blockhead sense. _ an owl of magisterial air, of solemn voice, of brow austere, assumed the pride of human race, and bore his wisdom in his face; not to depreciate learned eyes, i've seen a pedant look as wise. within a barn, from noise retired, he scorned the world, himself admired; and, like an ancient sage, concealed the follies public life revealed. _ philosophers of old, he read, their country's youth to science bred, their manners formed for every station, and destined each his occupation. when xenophon, by numbers braved, retreated, and a people saved, that laurel was not all his own; the plant by socrates was sown; to aristotle's greater name the macedonian[ ] owed his fame. _ the athenian bird, with pride replete, their talents equalled in conceit; and, copying the socratic rule, set up for master of a school. dogmatic jargon learnt by heart, trite sentences, hard terms of art, to vulgar ears seemed so profound, they fancied learning in the sound. the school had fame: the crowded place with pupils swarmed of every race. _ with these the swan's maternal care had sent her scarce-fledged cygnet heir: the hen (though fond and loath to part) here lodged the darling of her heart: the spider, of mechanic kind, aspired to science more refined: the ass learnt metaphors and tropes, but most on music fixed his hopes. the pupils now advanced in age, were called to tread life's busy stage. _ and to the master 'twas submitted, that each might to his part be fitted. 'the swan,' says he, 'in arms shall shine: the soldier's glorious toil be thine. the cock shall mighty wealth attain: go, seek it on the stormy main. the court shall be the spider's sphere: power, fortune, shall reward him there. in music's art the ass's fame shall emulate corelli's[ ] name. _ each took the part that he advised, and all were equally despised; a farmer, at his folly moved, the dull preceptor thus reproved: 'blockhead,' says he, 'by what you've done, one would have thought 'em each your son: for parents, to their offspring blind, consult, nor parts, nor turn of mind; but even in infancy decree what this, what t'other son should be. _ had you with judgment weighed the case, their genius thus had fixed their place: the swan had learnt the sailor's art; the cock had played the soldier's part; the spider in the weaver's trade with credit had a fortune made; but for the fool, in every class the blockhead had appeared an ass.' * * * * * fable xv. the cook-maid, the turnspit, and the ox. to a poor man. consider man in every sphere, then tell me is your lot severe? 'tis murmur, discontent, distrust, that makes you wretched. god is just. i grant, that hunger must be fed, that toil too earns thy daily bread. what then? thy wants are seen and known, but every mortal feels his own. we're born a restless, needy crew: show me the happier man than you. _ adam, though blest above his kind, for want of social woman pined, eve's wants the subtle serpent saw, her fickle taste transgressed the law: thus fell our sires; and their disgrace the curse entailed on human race. when philip's son, by glory led, had o'er the globe his empire spread; when altars to his name were dressed, that he was man, his tears confessed. _ the hopes of avarice are check'd: the proud man always wants respect. what various wants on power attend! ambition never gains its end. who hath not heard the rich complain of surfeits and corporeal pain? he, barred from every use of wealth, envies the ploughman's strength and health. another in a beauteous wife finds all the miseries of life: _ domestic jars and jealous fear embitter all his days with care. this wants an heir, the line is lost: why was that vain entail engross'd? canst thou discern another's mind? why is't you envy? envy's blind. tell envy, when she would annoy, that thousands want what you enjoy. 'the dinner must be dished at one. where's this vexatious turnspit gone? _ unless the skulking cur is caught, the sirloin's spoiled, and i'm in fault.' thus said: (for sure you'll think it fit that i the cook-maid's oaths omit) with all the fury of a cook, her cooler kitchen nan forsook. the broomstick o'er her head she waves; she sweats, she stamps, she puffs, she raves. the sneaking cur before her flies: she whistles, calls; fair speech she tries. _ these nought avail. her choler burns; the fist and cudgel threat by turns; with hasty stride she presses near; he slinks aloof, and howls with fear. 'was ever cur so cursed!' he cried, 'what star did at my birth preside? am i for life by compact bound to tread the wheel's eternal round? inglorious task! of all our race no slave is half so mean and base. _ had fate a kinder lot assigned, and formed me of the lap-dog kind, i then, in higher life employed, had indolence and ease enjoyed; and, like a gentleman, caress'd, had been the lady's favourite guest. or were i sprung from spaniel line, was his sagacious nostril mine, by me, their never-erring guide, from wood and plain their feasts supplied _ knights, squires, attendant on my pace, had shared the pleasures of the chase. endued with native strength and fire, why called i not the lion sire? a lion! such mean views i scorn. why was i not of woman born? who dares with reason's power contend? on man we brutal slaves depend: to him all creatures tribute pays, and luxury employs his days.' _ an ox by chance o'erheard his moan, and thus rebuked the lazy drone: 'dare you at partial fate repine? how kind's your lot compared with mine! decreed to toil, the barbarous knife hath severed me from social life; urged by the stimulating goad, i drag the cumbrous waggon's load: 'tis mine to tame the stubborn plain, break the stiff soil, and house the grain; _ yet i without a murmur bear the various labours of the year. but then consider, that one day, (perhaps the hour's not far away,) you, by the duties of your post, shall turn the spit when i'm the roast: and for reward shall share the feast; i mean, shall pick my bones at least.' ''till now,' the astonished cur replies, 'i looked on all with envious eyes. _ how false we judge by what appears! all creatures feel their several cares. if thus yon mighty beast complains, perhaps man knows superior pains. let envy then no more torment: think on the ox, and learn content.' thus said: close following at her heel, with cheerful heart he mounts the wheel. fable xvi. the ravens, the sexton, and the earth-worm. to laura. laura, methinks you're over nice. true, flattery is a shocking vice; yet sure, whene'er the praise is just, one may commend without disgust. am i a privilege denied, indulged by every tongue beside? how singular are all your ways! a woman, and averse to praise! if 'tis offence such truths to tell, why do your merits thus excel? _ since then i dare not speak my mind, a truth conspicuous to mankind; though in full lustre every grace distinguish your celestial face: though beauties of inferior ray (like stars before the orb of day) turn pale and fade: i check my lays, admiring what i dare not praise. if you the tribute due disdain, the muse's mortifying strain _ shall like a woman in mere spite, set beauty in a moral light. though such revenge might shock the ear of many a celebrated fair; i mean that superficial race whose thoughts ne'er reach beyond their face; what's that to you? i but displease such ever-girlish ears as these. virtue can brook the thoughts of age, that lasts the same through every stage. _ though you by time must suffer more than ever woman lost before; to age is such indifference shown, as if your face were not your own. were you by antoninus[ ] taught? or is it native strength of thought, that thus, without concern or fright, you view yourself by reason's light? those eyes of so divine a ray, what are they? mouldering, mortal clay. _ those features, cast in heavenly mould, shall, like my coarser earth, grow old; like common grass, the fairest flower must feel the hoary season's power. how weak, how vain is human pride! dares man upon himself confide? the wretch who glories in his gain, amasses heaps on heaps in vain. why lose we life in anxious cares, to lay in hoards for future years? _ can those (when tortured by disease) cheer our sick heart, or purchase ease? can those prolong one gasp of breath, or calm the troubled hour of death? what's beauty? call ye that your own? a flower that fades as soon as blown. what's man in all his boast of sway? perhaps the tyrant of a day. alike the laws of life take place through every branch of human race, _ the monarch of long regal line was raised from dust as frail as mine. can he pour health into his veins, or cool the fever's restless pains? can he (worn down in nature's course) new-brace his feeble nerves with force? can he (how vain is mortal power!) stretch life beyond the destined hour? consider, man; weigh well thy frame; the king, the beggar is the same. _ dust forms us all. each breathes his day, then sinks into his native clay. beneath a venerable yew, that in the lonely church-yard grew, two ravens sat. in solemn croak thus one his hungry friend bespoke: 'methinks i scent some rich repast; the savour strengthens with the blast; snuff then, the promised feast inhale; i taste the carcase in the gale; _ near yonder trees, the farmer's steed, from toil and daily drudgery freed, hath groaned his last. a dainty treat! to birds of taste delicious meat.' a sexton, busy at his trade, to hear their chat suspends his spade. death struck him with no further thought, than merely as the fees he brought. 'was ever two such blundering fowls, in brains and manners less than owls! _ blockheads,' says he, 'learn more respect; know ye on whom ye thus reflect? in this same grave (who does me right, must own the work is strong and tight) the squire that yon fair hall possessed, tonight shall lay his bones at rest. whence could the gross mistake proceed? the squire was somewhat fat indeed. what then? the meanest bird of prey such want of sense could ne'er betray; _ for sure some difference must be found (suppose the smelling organ sound) in carcases (say what we can) or where's the dignity of man?' with due respect to human race, the ravens undertook the case. in such similitude of scent, man ne'er eould think reflections meant. as epicures extol a treat, and seem their savoury words to eat, _ they praised dead horse, luxurious food, the venison of the prescient brood. the sexton's indignation moved, the mean comparison reproved; the undiscerning palate blamed, which two-legged carrion thus defamed. reproachful speech from either side the want of argument supplied: they rail, revile: as often ends the contest of disputing friends. _ 'hold,' says the fowl; 'since human pride with confutation ne'er complied, let's state the case, and then refer the knotty point: for taste may err.' as thus he spoke, from out the mould an earth-worm, huge of size, unrolled his monstrous length. they straight agree to choose him as their referee. so to the experience of his jaws, each states the merits of his cause. _ he paused, and with a solemn tone, thus made his sage opinion known: 'on carcases of every kind this maw hath elegantly dined; provoked by luxury or need, on beast, on fowl, on man, i feed; such small distinctions in the savour, by turns i choose the fancied flavour, yet i must own (that human beast) a glutton is the rankest feast. _ man, cease this boast; for human pride hath various tracts to range beside. the prince who kept the world in awe, the judge whose dictate fixed the law, the rich, the poor, the great, the small, are levelled. death confounds them all. then think not that we reptiles share such cates, such elegance of fair: the only true and real good of man was never vermin's food. _ 'tis seated in the immortal mind; virtue distinguishes mankind, and that (as yet ne'er harboured here) mounts with his soul we know not where. so, good man sexton, since the case appears with such a dubious face, to neither i the cause determine, for different tastes please different vermin.' end of gay's fables. songs. sweet william's farewell to black-eyed susan. all in the downs the fleet was moor'd, the streamers waving in the wind, when black-eye'd susan came aboard. oh! where shall i my true-love find? tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, if my sweet william sails among the crew. william, who high upon the yard rock'd with the billow to and fro, soon as her well-known voice he heard, he sigh'd, and cast his eyes below; the cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, and (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands. so the sweet lark, high poised in air, shuts close his pinions to his breast, (if chance his mate's shrill call he hear,) and drops at once into her nest. the noblest captain in the british fleet might envy william's lip those kisses sweet. o susan, susan, lovely dear, my vows shall ever true remain; let me kiss off that falling tear; we only part to meet again. change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be the faithful compass that still points to thee. believe not what the landmen say, who tempt with doubts thy constant mind. they'll tell thee, sailors, when away, in every port a mistress find: yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, for thou art present wheresoe'er i go. if to fair india's coast we sail, thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, thy breath is afric's spicy gale, thy skin is ivory so white. thus every beauteous object that i view, wakes in my soul some charm of lovely sue. though battle call me from thy arms, let not my pretty susan mourn; though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms, william shall to his dear return. love turns aside the balls that round me fly, lest precious tears should drop from susan's eye. the boatswain gave the dreadful word, the sails their swelling bosom spread; no longer must she stay aboard: they kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head. her lessening boat unwilling rows to land: adieu! she cries; and waved her lily hand. * * * * * a ballad, from the what-d'ye-call-it. 'twas when the seas were roaring with hollow blasts of wind; a damsel lay deploring, all on a rock reclined. wide o'er the foaming billows she casts a wistful look; her head was crown'd with willows, that trembled o'er the brook. twelve months are gone and over, and nine long tedious days. why didst thou, venturous lover, why didst thou trust the seas? cease, cease, thou cruel ocean, and let my lover rest: ah! what's thy troubled motion to that within my breast? the merchant, robb'd of pleasure, sees tempests in despair: but what's the loss of treasure, to losing of my dear? should you some coast be laid on, where gold and diamonds grow, you'd find a richer maiden, but none that loves you so. how can they say that nature has nothing made in vain; why then beneath the water should hideous rocks remain? no eyes the rocks discover, that lurk beneath the deep, to wreck the wandering lover, and leave the maid to weep. all melancholy lying, thus wail'd she for her dear; repaid each blast with sighing, each billow with a tear; when o'er the white wave stooping, his floating corpse she spied; then, like a lily drooping, she bow'd her head, and died. end of gay's songs. footnotes: [footnote : second son of george ii.; born in ; he was five years old at the date of the publication of the 'fables,' which were written for his instruction. he is 'culloden' cumberland.] [footnote : 'siam,' a country famous for elephants.] [footnote : 'gresham hall,' originally the house of sir thomas gresham in winchester. it was converted by his will into a college, no remains of which now exist.] [footnote : 'curl,' a famous publisher to grub street.] [footnote : garth's dispensary.] [footnote : 'porta:' a native of naples, famous for skill in the occult sciences. he wrote a book on physiognomy, seeking to trace in the human face resemblances to animals, and to infer similar correspondences in mind.] [footnote : '----when impious men bear sway, the post of honour is a private station.'-addison.] [footnote : 'antiochus': see plutarch.] [footnote : barrow.] [footnote : 'the macedonian:' alexander the great.] [footnote : 'corelli:' arcangelo, the greatest fiddler, till paganini, that has appeared. he was born in the territory of bologna, in , and died in .] [footnote : 'antoninus:' marcus, one of the few emperors who have been also philosophers.] the life of william somerville. * * * * * there is a chapter in an old history of iceland which has often moved merriment. the title of it is, "concerning snakes in iceland," and the contents are, "snakes in iceland there are none." we suspect, when our "life of william somerville" is ended, not a few will find in it a parallel for that comprehensive chapter, although we strenuously maintain that the fault of an insipid and uninteresting life is not always to be charged on the biographer. in "sartor resartus" our readers remember an epitaph, somewhat coarse, although disguised in good dog-latin, upon a country squire, and his sayings and doings in this world. we have not a copy of that work at hand, and cannot quote the epitaph, nor would we, though we could, since even the dog-latin is too plain and perspicuous for many readers. we recommend those, however, who choose to turn it up; and they will find in it (with the exception of the writing of "the chase") the full history of william somerville, of whom we know little, but that he was born, that he hunted, ate, drank, and died. he was born in ; but in what month, or on what day, we are not informed. his estate was in warwickshire, its name edston, and he had inherited it from a long line of ancestors. his family prided itself upon being the first family in the county. he himself boasts of having been born on the banks of avon, which has thus at least produced two poets, of somewhat different calibre indeed--the one a deer-stealer, and the other a fox-hunter--shakspeare and somerville. somerville was educated at winchester school, and was afterwards elected fellow of new college. from his studies--of his success in which we know nothing--he returned to his native county, and there, says johnson, "was distinguished as a poet, a gentleman, and a skilful and useful justice of the peace;"--we may add, as a jovial companion and a daring fox-hunter. his estate brought him in about £ a-year, but his extravagance brought him into pecuniary distresses, which weighed upon his mind, plunged him into intemperate habits, and hurried him away in his th year. shenstone, who knew him well, thus mourns aver his departure in one of his letters:--"our old friend somerville is dead; i did not imagine i could have been so sorry as i find myself on this occasion. _sublatum quoerimus_, i can now excuse all his foibles; impute them to age and to distressed circumstances. the last of these considerations wrings my very soul to think on; for a man of high spirit, conscious of having (at least in one production) generally pleased the world, to be plagued and threatened by wretches that are low in every sense; to be forced to drink himself into pains of the body in order to get rid of the pains of the mind, is a misery." somerville died july , , and was buried at wotton, near henley-on-arden. his estate went to lord somerville in scotland, but his mother, who lived to a great age, had a jointure of £ . he describes himself, in verses addressed to allan ramsay, as "a squire, well-born and six feet high." he seems, from the affection and sympathy discovered for him by shenstone, to have possessed the virtues as well as the vices of the squirearchy of that age; their frankness, sociality, and heart, as well as their improvidence and tendency to excess; and may altogether be called a sublimated squire western. as to his poetry, much of it is beneath criticism. his "fables," "tales," "hobbinol, or rural games," &c., have all in them poetical lines, but cannot, as a whole, be called poetry. he wrote some verses, entitled "address to addison," on the latter purchasing an estate in warwickshire (he gave his countess £ in exchange for it). in this there are two lines which dr johnson highly commends, saying "they are written with the most exquisite delicacy of praise; they exhibit one of those happy strokes that are seldom attained."--here is this bepraised couplet:-- "when panting virtue her last efforts made, you brought your clio to the virgin's aid." clio, of course, refers to addison's signatures in the "spectator," consisting of the four letters composing the name of the muse of history, used in alternation. we cannot coincide in johnson's encomium. the allusion is, we think, at once indecent and obscure; and what, after all, does it say, but that addison's papers aided the struggling cause of virtue? in the same verses we find a fulsome and ridiculous preference of addison to shakspeare! "in heaven he sings, on earth your muse supplies the important loss, and heals our weeping eyes; correctly great, she melts each flinty heart, with equal genius, but superior art." surely the force of falsehood and flattery can go no further. it is a pleasure to turn from these small and shallow things to the "chase," which, if not a great poem, is founded on a most poetical subject, and which, here and there, sparkles into fine fancy. dr johnson truly remarks, that somerville "set a good example to men of his own class, by devoting a part of his time to elegant knowledge, and has shewn, by the subjects which his poetry has adorned, that it is practicable to be at once a skilful sportsman and a man of letters." but besides this purpose to be the poet--and hitherto he has been almost the sole poet of the squirearchy, as considered apart from the aristocracy--somerville has the merit of being inspired by a genuine love for the subject. he writes directly from the testimony of his own eyes, and the impulses of his own heart. he has obviously had the mould of his poem suggested by thomson's "seasons," but it is the mould only; the thoughts and feelings which are poured into it are his own. he loves the giddy ride over stock and stone, hedge and petty precipice; the invigoration which the keen breath of autumn or winter, like that of a sturdy veteran, gives the animal spirits; the animated aspect of the "assembled jockeyship of half a province;" the wild music of hounds, and horns, and hollas, vieing with each other in mirth and loudness; the breathless interest of the start; the emulous pant of the coursers; the excitement of the moment when the fox appears; the sweeping tumult of the pursuit; the dreamlike rapidity with which five-barred gates are cleared, the yellow or naked woods are passed, and the stubble-ridges "swallowed up in the fierceness and rage" of the rushing steeds; the indifference of those engaged in the headlong sport to the danger or even the death of their companions; the lengthening and deepening howl of the hounds as they near their prey; the fierce silence of the dying victim; and the fiercer shout of victory which announces to the echoes that the brush is won, and the glorious (or inglorious) day's work is over;--all this somerville loves, and has painted with considerable power. in the course of the poem, he sings also of the mysteries of the dog-kennel--pursues the blood-hound on his track of death--describes a stag-hunt in windsor forest--paints the fearful phenomena of canine madness--hunts the hare in a joyous spirit--and goes down after the otter into its watery recesses, and watches its divings and devious motions as with the eyes of a sea-eagle. and, besides, (here also imitating thomson,) he is led away from the comparatively tame "chase" of england to the more dangerous and more inspiring sports of other lands, where "the huntsmen are up in arabia," in pursuit of the wolf, where the bear is bayed amidst forests dark as itself, where the leopard is snared by its own image in a mirror, where the lion falls roaring into the prepared pit, and where the "chase" is pursued on a large scale by assembled princes amidst the jungles of india. we doubt not, however, that, were a genuine poet of this age taking up the "chase" as a subject for song, and availing himself of the accounts of recent travellers, themselves often true poets, such as lloyd, livingstone, cumming bruce, and charles boner, (see the admirable "chamois hunting in bavaria" of the latter,) he would produce a strain incomparably higher than somerville's. wilson, at least, as we know from his "christopher in his sporting jacket," and many other articles in _maga_, was qualified, in part by nature and in part by extensive experience, to have written such a poem. indeed, one sentence of his is superior to anything in the "chase." speaking of the charge of the cruelty of chasing such an insignificant animal as a fox, he says, "what though it be but a smallish, reddish-brown, sharp-nosed animal, with pricked-up ears, and passionately fond of poultry, that they pursue? after the first tallyho, reynard is rarely seen till he is run in upon--once, perhaps, in the whole run, skirting a wood, or crossing a common. it is an _idea that is pursued_ on a whirlwind of horses, to a storm of canine music, worthy both of the largest lion that ever leaped among a band of moors sleeping at midnight by an extinguished fire on the african sands." we do not answer for the humanity of this description, but it certainly seems to us to exhaust the subject of the chase, alike in its philosophy and its poetry.[ ] somerville's chase. * * * * * book i. the argument. the subject proposed.--address to his royal highness the prince.--the origin of hunting.--the rude and unpolished manner of the first hunters.--beasts at first hunted for food and sacrifice.--the grant made by god to man of the beasts, &c.--the regular manner of hunting first brought into this island by the normans.--the best hounds and best horses bred here.--the advantage of this exercise to us, as islanders.--address to gentlemen of estates.--situation of the kennel and its several courts.--the diversion and employment of hounds in the kennel.--the different sorts of hounds for each different chase.-- description of a perfect hound.--of sizing and sorting of hounds.--the middle-sized hound recommended.--of the large, deep-mouthed hound for hunting the stag and otter.--of the lime-hound; their use on the borders of england and scotland.--a physical account of scents.--of good and bad scenting days.--a short admonition to my brethren of the couples. the chase i sing, hounds, and their various breed, and no less various use. o thou great prince![ ] whom cambria's towering hills proclaim their lord, deign thou to hear my bold, instructive song. while grateful citizens with pompous show, rear the triumphal arch, rich with the exploits of thy illustrious house; while virgins pave thy way with flowers, and, as the royal youth passing they view, admire, and sigh in vain; while crowded theatres, too fondly proud _ of their exotic minstrels, and shrill pipes, the price of manhood, hail thee with a song, and airs soft-warbling; my hoarse-sounding horn invites thee to the chase, the sport of kings; image of war, without its guilt. the muse aloft on wing shall soar, conduct with care thy foaming courser o'er the steepy rock, or on the river bank receive thee safe, light-bounding o'er the wave, from shore to shore. be thou our great protector, gracious youth! _ and if in future times, some envious prince, careless of right and guileful, should invade thy britain's commerce, or should strive in vain to wrest the balance from thy equal hand; thy hunter-train, in cheerful green arrayed, (a band undaunted, and inured to toils,) shall compass thee around, die at thy feet, or hew thy passage through the embattled foe, and clear thy way to fame; inspired by thee the nobler chase of glory shall pursue _ through fire, and smoke, and blood, and fields of death. nature, in her productions slow, aspires by just degrees to reach perfection's height: so mimic art works leisurely, till time improve the piece, or wise experience give the proper finishing. when nimrod bold, that mighty hunter, first made war on beasts, and stained the woodland green with purple dye, new and unpolished was the huntsman's art; no stated rule, his wanton will his guide. _ with clubs and stones, rude implements of war, he armed his savage bands, a multitude untrained; of twining osiers formed, they pitch their artless toils, then range the desert hills, and scour the plains below; the trembling herd start at the unusual sound, and clamorous shout unheard before; surprised alas! to find man now their foe, whom erst they deemed their lord, but mild and gentle, and by whom as yet secure they grazed. death stretches o'er the plain _ wide-wasting, and grim slaughter red with blood: urged on by hunger keen, they wound, they kill, their rage licentious knows no bound; at last incumbered with their spoils, joyful they bear upon their shoulders broad, the bleeding prey. part on their altars smokes a sacrifice to that all-gracious power, whose bounteous hand supports his wide creation; what remains on living coals they broil, inelegant of taste, nor skilled as yet in nicer arts _ of pampered luxury. devotion pure, and strong necessity, thus first began the chase of beasts: though bloody was the deed, yet without guilt. for the green herb alone unequal to sustain man's labouring race, now every moving thing that lived on earth was granted him for food. so just is heaven, to give us in proportion to our wants. or chance or industry in after-times some few improvements made, but short as yet _ of due perfection. in this isle remote our painted ancestors were slow to learn, to arms devote, of the politer arts nor skilled nor studious; till from neustria's[ ] coasts victorious william, to more decent rules subdued our saxon fathers, taught to speak the proper dialect, with horn and voice to cheer the busy hound, whose well-known cry his listening peers approve with joint acclaim. from him successive huntsmen learned to join _ in bloody social leagues, the multitude dispersed, to size, to sort their various tribes, to rear, feed, hunt, and discipline the pack. hail, happy britain! highly-favoured isle, and heaven's peculiar care! to thee 'tis given to train the sprightly steed, more fleet than those begot by winds, or the celestial breed that bore the great pelides through the press of heroes armed, and broke their crowded ranks; which proudly neighing, with the sun begins _ cheerful his course; and ere his beams decline, has measured half thy surface unfatigued. in thee alone, fair land of liberty! is bred the perfect hound, in scent and speed as yet unrivalled, while in other climes their virtue fails, a weak degenerate race. in vain malignant steams, and winter fogs load the dull air, and hover round our coasts, the huntsman ever gay, robust, and bold, defies the noxious vapour, and confides _ in this delightful exercise, to raise his drooping head and cheer his heart with joy. ye vigorous youths, by smiling fortune blest with large demesnes, hereditary wealth, heaped copious by your wise forefathers' care, hear and attend! while i the means reveal to enjoy those pleasures, for the weak too strong, too costly for the poor: to rein the steed swift-stretching o'er the plain, to cheer the pack opening in concerts of harmonious joy, _ but breathing death. what though the gripe severe of brazen-fisted time, and slow disease creeping through every vein, and nerve unstrung, afflict my shattered frame, undaunted still, fixed as a mountain ash, that braves the bolts of angry jove; though blasted, yet unfallen; still can my soul in fancy's mirror view deeds glorious once, recal the joyous scene in all its splendours decked, o'er the full bowl recount my triumphs past, urge others on _ with hand and voice, and point the winding way: pleased with that social sweet garrulity, the poor disbanded veteran's sole delight. first let the kennel be the huntsman's care, upon some little eminence erect, and fronting to the ruddy dawn; its courts on either hand wide opening to receive the sun's all-cheering beams, when mild he shines, and gilds the mountain tops. for much the pack (roused from their dark alcoves) delight to stretch, _ and bask in his invigorating ray: warned by the streaming light and merry lark, forth rush the jolly clan; with tuneful throats they carol loud, and in grand chorus joined salute the new-born day. for not alone the vegetable world, but men and brutes own his reviving influence, and joy at his approach. fountain of light! if chance[ ] some envious cloud veil thy refulgent brow, in vain the muses aid; untouched, unstrung, _ lies my mute harp, and thy desponding bard sits darkly musing o'er the unfinished lay. let no corinthian pillars prop the dome, a vain expense, on charitable deeds better disposed, to clothe the tattered wretch, who shrinks beneath the blast, to feed the poor pinched with afflictive want. for use, not state, gracefully plain, let each apartment rise. o'er all let cleanliness preside, no scraps bestrew the pavement, and no half-picked bones, _ to kindle fierce debate, or to disgust that nicer sense, on which the sportsman's hope, and all his future triumphs must depend. soon as the growling pack with eager joy have lapped their smoking viands, morn or eve, from the full cistern lead the ductile streams, to wash thy court well-paved, nor spare thy pains, for much to health will cleanliness avail. seek'st thou for hounds to climb the rocky steep, and brush the entangled covert, whose nice scent _ o'er greasy fallows, and frequented roads can pick the dubious way? banish far off each noisome stench, let no offensive smell invade thy wide inclosure, but admit the nitrous air, and purifying breeze. water and shade no less demand thy care: in a large square the adjacent field inclose, there plant in equal ranks the spreading elm, or fragrant lime; most happy thy design, if at the bottom of thy spacious court, _ a large canal fed by the crystal brook, from its transparent bosom shall reflect downward thy structure and inverted grove. here when the sun's too potent gleams annoy the crowded kennel, and the drooping pack, restless and faint, loll their unmoistened tongues, and drop their feeble tails; to cooler shades lead forth the panting tribe; soon shalt thou find the cordial breeze their fainting hearts revive: tumultuous soon they plunge into the stream, _ there lave their reeking sides, with greedy joy gulp down the flying wave; this way and that from shore to shore they swim, while clamour loud and wild uproar torments the troubled flood: then on the sunny bank they roll and stretch their dripping limbs, or else in wanton rings coursing around, pursuing and pursued, the merry multitude disporting play. but here with watchful and observant eye attend their frolics, which too often end _ in bloody broils and death. high o'er thy head wave thy resounding whip, and with a voice fierce-menacing o'errule the stern debate, and quench their kindling rage; for oft in sport begun, combat ensues, growling they snarl, then on their haunches reared, rampant they seize each other's throats, with teeth and claws in gore besmeared, they wound, they tear, till on the ground, panting, half dead the conquered champion lies: then sudden all the base ignoble crowd _ loud-clamouring seize the helpless worried wretch, and thirsting for his blood, drag different ways his mangled carcase on the ensanguined plain. o breasts of pity void! to oppress the weak, to point your vengeance at the friendless head, and with one mutual cry insult the fallen! emblem too just of man's degenerate race. others apart by native instinct led, knowing instructor! 'mong the ranker grass cull each salubrious plant, with bitter juice _ concoctive stored, and potent to allay each vicious ferment. thus the hand divine of providence, beneficent and kind to all his creatures, for the brutes prescribes a ready remedy, and is himself their great physician. now grown stiff with age, and many a painful chase, the wise old hound regardless of the frolic pack, attends his master's side, or slumbers at his ease beneath the bending shade; there many a ring _ runs o'er in dreams; now on the doubtful foil puzzles perplexed, or doubles intricate cautious unfolds, then winged with all his speed, bounds o'er the lawn to seize his panting prey: and in imperfect whimperings speaks his joy. a different hound for every different chase select with judgment; nor the timorous hare o'ermatched destroy, but leave that vile offence to the mean, murderous, coursing crew; intent on blood and spoil. o blast their hopes, just heaven! _ and all their painful drudgeries repay with disappointment and severe remorse. but husband thou thy pleasures, and give scope to all her subtle play: by nature led a thousand shifts she tries; to unravel these the industrious beagle twists his waving tail, through all her labyrinths pursues, and rings her doleful knell. see there with countenance blithe, and with a courtly grin, the fawning hound salutes thee cowering, his wide-opening nose _ upward he curls, and his large sloe-black eyes melt in soft blandishments, and humble joy; his glossy skin, or yellow-pied, or blue, in lights or shades by nature's pencil drawn, reflects the various tints; his ears and legs flecked here and there, in gay enamelled pride rival the speckled pard; his rush-grown tail o'er his broad back bends in an ample arch; on shoulders clean, upright and firm he stands, his round cat foot, straight hams, and wide-spread thighs, _ and his low-dropping chest, confess his speed, his strength, his wind, or on the steepy hill, or far-extended plain; in every part so well proportioned, that the nicer skill of phidias himself can't blame thy choice. of such compose thy pack. but here a mean observe, nor the large hound prefer, of size gigantic; he in the thick-woven covert painfully tugs, or in the thorny brake torn and embarrassed bleeds: but if too small, _ the pigmy brood in every furrow swims; moiled in the clogging clay, panting they lag behind inglorious; or else shivering creep benumbed and faint beneath the sheltering thorn. for hounds of middle size, active and strong, will better answer all thy various ends, and crown thy pleasing labours with success. as some brave captain, curious and exact, by his fixed standard forms in equal ranks his gay battalion, as one man they move _ step after step, their size the same, their arms far gleaming, dart the same united blaze: reviewing generals his merit own; how regular! how just! and all his cares are well repaid, if mighty george approve. so model thou thy pack, if honour touch thy generous soul, and the world's just applause. but above all take heed, nor mix thy hounds of different kinds; discordant sounds shall grate thy ears offended, and a lagging line _ of babbling curs disgrace thy broken pack. but if the amphibious otter be thy chase, or stately stag, that o'er the woodland reigns; or if the harmonious thunder of the field delight thy ravished ears; the deep-flewed hound breed up with care, strong, heavy, slow, but sure, whose ears down-hanging from his thick round head shall sweep the morning dew, whose clanging voice awake the mountain echo in her cell, and shake the forests: the bold talbot[ ] kind _ of these the prime, as white as alpine snows; and great their use of old. upon the banks of tweed, slow winding through the vale, the seat of war and rapine once, ere britons knew the sweets of peace, or anna's dread commands to lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed, there dwelt a pilfering race; well-trained and skilled in all the mysteries of theft, the spoil their only substance, feuds and war their sport: not more expert in every fraudful art _ the arch felon was of old, who by the tail drew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles, in vain the shelter of the covering rock, in vain the sooty cloud, and ruddy flames that issued from his mouth; for soon he paid his forfeit life: a debt how justly due to wronged alcides, and avenging heaven! veiled in the shades of night they ford the stream, then prowling far and near, whate'er they seize becomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe, _ nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong barred doors secure the favourite horse. soon as the morn reveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan the plundered owner stands, and from his lips a thousand thronging curses burst their way: he calls his stout allies, and in a line his faithful hound he leads, then with a voice that utters loud his rage, attentive cheers: soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail flourished in air, low-bending plies around _ his busy nose, the steaming vapour snuff inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried, till conscious of the recent stains, his heart beats quick; his snuffling nose, his active tail attest his joy; then with deep opening mouth that makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims the audacious felon; foot by foot he marks his winding way, while all the listening crowd applaud his reasonings. o'er the watery ford, dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hill, _ o'er beaten paths, with men and beasts distained, unerring he pursues; till at the cot arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat the caitiff' vile, redeems the captive prey: so exquisitely delicate his sense! should some more curious sportsman here inquire, whence this sagacity, this wondrous power of tracing step by step, or man or brute? what guide invisible points out their way, o'er the dank marsh, bleak hill, and sandy plain? _ the courteous muse shall the dark cause reveal. the blood that from the heart incessant rolls in many a crimson tide, then here and there in smaller rills disparted, as it flows propelled, the serous particles evade through the open pores, and with the ambient air entangling mix. as fuming vapours rise, and hang upon the gently purling brook, there by the incumbent atmosphere compressed, the panting chase grows warmer as he flies, _ and through the net-work of the skin perspires; leaves a long-streaming trail behind, which by the cooler air condensed, remains, unless by some rude storm dispersed, or rarefied by the meridian sun's intenser heat. to every shrub the warm effluvia cling, hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies. with nostrils opening wide, o'er hill, o'er dale, the vigorous hounds pursue, with every breath inhale the grateful steam, quick pleasures sting _ their tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay, and in triumphant melody confess the titillating joy. thus on the air depend the hunter's hopes. when ruddy streaks at eve forebode a blustering stormy day, or lowering clouds blacken the mountain's brow, when nipping frosts, and the keen biting blasts of the dry parching east, menace the trees with tender blossoms teeming, kindly spare thy sleeping pack, in their warm beds of straw _ low-sinking at their ease; listless they shrink into some dark recess, nor hear thy voice though oft invoked; or haply if thy call rouse up the slumbering tribe, with heavy eyes glazed, lifeless, dull, downward they drop their tails inverted; high on their bent backs erect their pointed bristles stare, or 'mong the tufts of ranker weeds, each stomach-healing plant curious they crop, sick, spiritless, forlorn. these inauspicious days, on other cares _ employ thy precious hours; the improving friend with open arms embrace, and from his lips glean science, seasoned with good-natured wit. but if the inclement skies and angry jove forbid the pleasing intercourse, thy books invite thy ready hand, each sacred page rich with the wise remarks of heroes old. converse familiar with the illustrious dead; with great examples of old greece or rome enlarge thy free-born heart, and bless kind heaven, _ that britain yet enjoys dear liberty, that balm of life, that sweetest blessing, cheap though purchased with our blood. well-bred, polite, credit thy calling. see! how mean, how low, the bookless sauntering youth, proud of the scut that dignifies his cap, his flourished belt, and rusty couples jingling by his side. be thou of other mould; and know that such transporting pleasures were by heaven ordained wisdom's relief, and virtue's great reward. _ * * * * * book ii. the argument. of the power of instinct in brutes.--two remarkable instances in the hunting of the roebuck, and in the hare going to seat in the morning.--of the variety of seats or forms of the hare, according to the change of the season, weather, or wind.--description of the hare-hunting in all its parts, interspersed with rules to be observed by those who follow that chase.--transition to the asiatic way of hunting, particularly the magnificent manner of the great mogul, and other tartarian princes, taken from monsieur bernier, and the history of gengiskan the great.--concludes with a short reproof of tyrants and oppressors of mankind. nor will it less delight the attentive sage to observe that instinct, which unerring guides the brutal race, which mimics reason's lore and oft transcends: heaven-taught, the roe-buck swift loiters at ease before the driving pack and mocks their vain pursuit, nor far he flies but checks his ardour, till the steaming scent that freshens on the blade, provokes their rage. urged to their speed, his weak deluded foes soon flag fatigued; strained to excess each nerve, _ each slackened sinew fails; they pant, they foam; then o'er the lawn he bounds, o'er the high hills stretches secure, and leaves the scattered crowd to puzzle in the distant vale below. 'tis instinct that directs the jealous hare to choose her soft abode: with step reversed she forms the doubling maze; then, ere the morn peeps through the clouds, leaps to her close recess. as wand'ring shepherds on the arabian plains no settled residence observe, but shift _ their moving camp, now, on some cooler hill with cedars crowned, court the refreshing breeze; and then, below, where trickling streams distil from some penurious source, their thirst allay, and feed their fainting flocks: so the wise hares oft quit their seats, lest some more curious eye should mark their haunts, and by dark treacherous wiles plot their destruction; or perchance in hopes of plenteous forage, near the ranker mead, or matted blade, wary, and close they sit. _ when spring shines forth, season of love and joy, in the moist marsh, 'mong beds of rushes hid, they cool their boiling blood: when summer suns bake the cleft earth, to thick wide-waving fields of corn full-grown, they lead their helpless young: but when autumnal torrents, and fierce rains deluge the vale, in the dry crumbling bank their forms they delve, and cautiously avoid the dripping covert: yet when winter's cold their limbs benumbs, thither with speed returned _ in the long grass they skulk, or shrinking creep among the withered leaves, thus changing still, as fancy prompts them, or as food invites. but every season carefully observed, the inconstant winds, the fickle element, the wise experienced huntsman soon may find his subtle, various game, nor waste in vain his tedious hours, till his impatient hounds with disappointment vexed, each springing lark babbling pursue, far scattered o'er the fields. _ now golden autumn from her open lap her fragrant bounties showers; the fields are shorn; inwardly smiling, the proud farmer views the rising pyramids that grace his yard, and counts his large increase; his barns are stored, and groaning staddles bend beneath their load. all now is free as air, and the gay pack in the rough bristly stubbles range unblamed; no widow's tears o'erflow, no secret curse swells in the farmer's breast, which his pale lips _ trembling conceal, by his fierce landlord awed: but courteous now he levels every fence, joins in the common cry, and halloos loud, charmed with the rattling thunder of the field. oh bear me, some kind power invisible! to that extended lawn, where the gay court view the swift racers, stretching to the goal; games more renowned, and a far nobler train, than proud elean fields could boast of old. oh! were a theban lyre not wanting here, _ and pindar's voice, to do their merit right! or to those spacious plains, where the strained eye in the wide prospect lost, beholds at last sarum's proud spire, that o'er the hills ascends, and pierces through the clouds. or to thy downs, fair cotswold, where the well-breathed beagle climbs, with matchless speed, thy green aspiring brow, and leaves the lagging multitude behind. hail, gentle dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail! rejoiced i see thy purple mantle spread _ o'er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way, and orient pearls from every shrub depend. farewell, cleora; here deep sunk in down slumber secure, with happy dreams amused, till grateful steams shall tempt thee to receive thy early meal, or thy officious maids, the toilet placed, shall urge thee to perform the important work. me other joys invite, the horn sonorous calls, the pack awaked their matins chant, nor brook my long delay. _ my courser hears their voice; see there with ears and tail erect, neighing he paws the ground; fierce rapture kindles in his reddening eyes, and boils in every vein. as captive boys cowed by the ruling rod, and haughty frowns of pedagogues severe, from their hard tasks, if once dismissed, no limits can contain the tumult raised within their little breasts, but give a loose to all their frolic play: so from their kennel rush the joyous pack; _ a thousand wanton gaieties express their inward ecstasy, their pleasing sport once more indulged, and liberty restored. the rising sun that o'er the horizon peeps, as many colours from their glossy skins beaming reflects, as paint the various bow when april showers descend. delightful scene! where all around is gay, men, horses, dogs, and in each smiling countenance appears fresh-blooming health, and universal joy. _ huntsman, lead on! behind the clustering pack submiss attend, hear with respect thy whip loud-clanging, and thy harsher voice obey: spare not the straggling cur, that wildly roves; but let thy brisk assistant on his back imprint thy just resentments; let each lash bite to the quick, till howling he return and whining creep amid the trembling crowd. here on this verdant spot, where nature kind, with double blessings crowns the farmer's hopes; _ where flowers autumnal spring, and the rank mead affords the wandering hares a rich repast, throw off thy ready pack. see, where they spread and range around, and dash the glittering dew. if some stanch hound, with his authentic voice, avow the recent trail, the jostling tribe attend his call, then with one mutual cry the welcome news confirm, and echoing hills repeat the pleasing tale. see how they thread the brakes, and up yon furrow drive along! _ but quick they back recoil, and wisely check their eager haste; then o'er the fallowed ground how leisurely they work, and many a pause the harmonious concert breaks; till more assured with joy redoubled the low valleys ring. what artful labyrinths perplex their way! ah! there she lies; how close! she pants, she doubts if now she lives; she trembles as she sits, with horror seized. the withered grass that clings around her head, of the same russet hue _ almost deceived my sight, had not her eyes with life full-beaming her vain wiles betrayed. at distance draw thy pack, let all be hushed, no clamour loud, no frantic joy be heard, lest the wild hound run gadding o'er the plain untractable, nor hear thy chiding voice. now gently put her off; see how direct to her known mews she flies! here, huntsman, bring (but without hurry) all thy jolly hounds, and calmly lay them in. how low they stoop, _ and seem to plough the ground! then all at once with greedy nostrils snuff the fuming steam that glads their fluttering hearts. as winds let loose from the dark caverns of the blustering god, they burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn. hope gives them wings while she's spurred on by fear. the welkin rings; men, dogs, hills, rocks, and woods in the full concert join. now, my brave youths, stripped for the chase, give all your souls to joy! see how their coursers, than the mountain roe _ more fleet, the verdant carpet skim, thick clouds snorting they breathe, their shining hoofs scarce print the grass unbruised; with emulation fired they strain to lead the field, top the barred gate, o'er the deep ditch exulting bound, and brush the thorny-twining hedge: the riders bend o'er their arched necks; with steady hands, by turns indulge their speed, or moderate their rage. where are their sorrows, disappointments, wrongs, vexations, sickness, cares? all, all are gone, _ and with the panting winds lag far behind. huntsman! her gait observe, if in wide rings she wheel her mazy way, in the same round persisting still, she'll foil the beaten track. but if she fly, and with the favouring wind urge her bold course; less intricate thy task: push on thy pack. like some poor exiled wretch the frighted chase leaves her late dear abodes, o'er plains remote she stretches far away, ah! never to return! for greedy death _ hovering exults, secure to seize his prey. hark! from yon covert, where those towering oaks above the humble copse aspiring rise, what glorious triumphs burst in every gale upon our ravished ears! the hunters shout, the clanging horns swell their sweet-winding notes, the pack wide-opening load the trembling air with various melody; from tree to tree the propagated cry redoubling bounds, and winged zephyrs waft the floating joy _ through all the regions near: afflictive birch no more the school-boy dreads, his prison broke, scampering he flies, nor heeds his master's call; the weary traveller forgets his road, and climbs the adjacent hill; the ploughman leaves the unfinished furrow; nor his bleating flocks are now the shepherd's joy; men, boys, and girls desert the unpeopled village; and wild crowds spread o'er the plain, by the sweet frenzy seized. look, how she pants! and o'er yon opening glade _ slips glancing by; while, at the further end, the puzzling pack unravel wile by wile, maze within maze. the covert's utmost bound slily she skirts; behind them cautious creeps, and in that very track, so lately stained by all the steaming crowd, seems to pursue the foe she flies. let cavillers deny that brutes have reason; sure 'tis something more, 'tis heaven directs, and stratagems inspires, beyond the short extent of human thought. _ but hold--i see her from the covert break; sad on yon little eminence she sits; intent she listens with one ear erect, pond'ring, and doubtful what new course to take, and how to escape the fierce blood-thirsty crew, that still urge on, and still in vollies loud, insult her woes, and mock her sore distress. as now in louder peals, the loaded winds bring on the gathering storm, her fears prevail; and o'er the plain, and o'er the mountain's ridge, _ away she flies; nor ships with wind and tide, and all their canvas wings, scud half so fast. once more, ye jovial train, your courage try, and each clean courser's speed. we scour along, in pleasing hurry and confusion tossed; oblivion to be wished. the patient pack hang on the scent unwearied, up they climb, and ardent we pursue; our labouring steeds we press, we gore; till once the summit gained, painfully panting, there we breathe a while; _ then like a foaming torrent, pouring down precipitant, we smoke along the vale. happy the man, who with unrivalled speed can pass his fellows, and with pleasure view the struggling pack; how in the rapid course alternate they preside, and jostling push to guide the dubious scent; how giddy youth oft babbling errs, by wiser age reproved; how, niggard of his strength, the wise old hound hangs in the rear, till some important point _ rouse all his diligence, or till the chase sinking he finds; then to the head he springs, with thirst of glory fired, and wins the prize. huntsman, take heed; they stop in full career. yon crowding flocks, that at a distance graze, have haply soiled the turf. see! that old hound, how busily he works, but dares not trust his doubtful sense; draw yet a wider ring. hark! now again the chorus fills; as bells silenced a while at once their peal renew, _ and high in air the tuneful thunder rolls. see, how they toss, with animated rage recovering all they lost!--that eager haste some doubling wile foreshews.--ah! yet once more they're checked--hold back with speed--on either hand they nourish round--even yet persist--'tis right, away they spring; the rustling stubbles bend beneath the driving storm. now the poor chase begins to flag, to her last shifts reduced. from brake to brake she flies, and visits all _ her well-known haunts, where once she ranged secure, with love and plenty bless'd. see! there she goes, she reels along, and by her gait betrays her inward weakness. see, how black she looks! the sweat that clogs the obstructed pores, scarce leaves a languid scent. and now in open view see, see, she flies! each eager hound exerts his utmost speed, and stretches every nerve. how quick she turns! their gaping jaws eludes, and yet a moment lives; till round inclosed _ by all the greedy pack, with infant screams she yields her breath, and there reluctant dies. so when the furious bacchanals assailed thracian orpheus, poor ill-fated bard! loud was the cry; hills, woods, and hebrus' banks, returned their clamorous rage; distressed he flies, shifting from place to place, but flies in vain; for eager they pursue, till panting, faint, by noisy multitudes o'erpowered, he sinks, to the relentless crowd a bleeding prey. _ the huntsman now, a deep incision made, shakes out with hands impure, and dashes down her reeking entrails, and yet quivering heart. these claim the pack, the bloody perquisite for all their toils. stretched on the ground she lies, a mangled corse; in her dim glaring eyes cold death exults, and stiffens every limb. awed by the threatening whip, the furious hounds around her bay; or at their master's foot, each happy favourite courts his kind applause, _ with humble adulation cowering low. all now is joy. with cheeks full-blown they wind her solemn dirge, while the loud-opening pack the concert swell, and hills and dales return the sadly-pleasing sounds. thus the poor hare, a puny, dastard animal, but versed in subtle wiles, diverts the youthful train. but if thy proud, aspiring soul disdains so mean a prey, delighted with the pomp, magnificence and grandeur of the chase; _ hear what the muse from faithful records sings. why on the banks of gemna, indian stream, line within line, rise the pavilions proud, their silken streamers waving in the wind? why neighs the warrior horse? from tent to tent, why press in crowds the buzzing multitude? why shines the polished helm, and pointed lance, this way and that far-beaming o'er the plain? nor visapour nor golconda rebel; nor the great sophy, with his numerous host _ lays waste the provinces; nor glory fires to rob, and to destroy, beneath the name and specious guise of war. a nobler cause calls aurengzebe[ ] to arms. no cities sacked, no mother's tears, no helpless orphan's cries, no violated leagues, with sharp remorse shall sting the conscious victor: but mankind shall hail him good and just. for 'tis on beasts he draws his vengeful sword; on beasts of prey full-fed with human gore. see, see, he comes! _ imperial delhi opening wide her gates, pours out her thronging legions, bright in arms, and all the pomp of war. before them sound clarions and trumpets, breathing martial airs, and bold defiance. high upon his throne, borne on the back of his proud elephant, sits the great chief of tamur's glorious race: sublime he sits, amid the radiant blaze of gems and gold. omrahs about him crowd, and rein the arabian steed, and watch his nod: _ and potent rajahs, who themselves preside o'er realms of wide extent; but here submiss their homage pay, alternate kings and slaves. next these, with prying eunuchs girt around, the fair sultanas of his court; a troop of chosen beauties, but with care concealed from each intrusive eye; one look is death. a cruel eastern law! (had kings a power but equal to their wild tyrannic will) to rob us of the sun's all-cheering ray, _ were less severe. the vulgar close the march, slaves and artificers; and delhi mourns her empty and depopulated streets. now at the camp arrived, with stern review, through groves of spears, from file to file he darts his sharp experienced eye; their order marks, each in his station ranged, exact and firm, till in the boundless line his sight is lost. not greater multitudes in arms appeared, on these extended plains, when ammon's[ ] son _ with mighty porus in dread battle joined, the vassal world the prize. nor was that host more numerous of old, which the great king poured out on greece from all the unpeopled east; that bridged the hellespont from shore to shore, and drank the rivers dry. meanwhile in troops the busy hunter-train mark out the ground, a wide circumference; full many a league in compass round; woods, rivers, hills, and plains, large provinces; enough to gratify _ ambition's highest aim, could reason bound man's erring will. now sit in close divan the mighty chiefs of this prodigious host. he from the throne high-eminent presides, gives out his mandates proud, laws of the chase, from ancient records drawn. with reverence low, and prostrate at his feet, the chiefs receive his irreversible decrees, from which to vary is to die. then his brave bands each to his station leads; encamping round, _ till the wide circle is completely formed; where decent order reigns, what these command, those execute with speed, and punctual care; in all the strictest discipline of war: as if some watchful foe, with bold insult hung lowering o'er their camp. the high resolve, that flies on wings, through all the encircling line, each motion steers, and animates the whole. so by the sun's attractive power controlled, the planets in their spheres roll round his orb, _ on all he shines, and rules the great machine. ere yet the morn dispels the fleeting mists, the signal given by the loud trumpet's voice, now high in air the imperial standard waves, emblazoned rich with gold, and glittering gems; and like a sheet of fire, through the dun gloom streaming meteorous. the soldiers' shouts, and all the brazen instuments of war, with mutual clamor, and united din, fill the large concave. while from camp to camp, _ they catch the varied sounds, floating in air, round all the wide circumference, tigers fell shrink at the noise; deep in his gloomy den the lion starts, and morsels yet unchewed drop from his trembling jaws. now all at once onward they march embattled, to the sound of martial harmony; fifes, cornets, drums, that rouse the sleepy soul to arms, and bold heroic deeds. in parties here and there detached o'er hill and dale, the hunters range _ inquisitive; strong dogs that match in fight the boldest brute, around their masters wait, a faithful guard. no haunt unsearched, they drive from every covert, and from every den, the lurking savages. incessant shouts re-echo through the woods, and kindling fires gleam from the mountain tops; the forest seems one mingling blaze: like flocks of sheep they fly before the flaming brand: fierce lions, pards, boars, tigers, bears, and wolves; a dreadful crew _ of grim blood-thirsty foes: growling along, they stalk indignant; but fierce vengeance still hangs pealing on their rear, and pointed spears present immediate death. soon as the night wrapt in her sable veil forbids the chase, they pitch their tents, in even ranks around the circling camp. the guards are placed, and fires at proper distances ascending rise, and paint the horizon with their ruddy light. so round some island's shore of large extent, _ amid the gloomy horrors of the night, the billows breaking on the pointed rocks, seem all one flame, and the bright circuit wide appears a bulwark of surrounding fire. what dreadful bowlings, and what hideous roar, disturb those peaceful shades where erst the bird that glads the night, had cheered the listening groves with sweet complainings! through the silent gloom oft they the guards assail; as oft repelled they fly reluctant, with hot-boiling rage _ stung to the quick, and mad with wild despair. thus day by day, they still the chase renew; at night encamp; till now in straiter bounds the circle lessens, and the beasts perceive the wall that hems them in on every side. and now their fury bursts, and knows no mean; from man they turn, and point their ill-judged rage against their fellow brutes. with teeth and claws the civil war begins; grappling they tear. lions on tigers prey, and bears on wolves: _ horrible discord! till the crowd behind shouting pursue, and part the bloody fray. at once their wrath subsides; tame as the lamb the lion hangs his head, the furious pard, cowed and subdued, flies from the face of man, nor bears one glance of his commanding eye. so abject is a tyrant in distress! at last within the narrow plain confined, a listed field, marked out for bloody deeds, an amphitheatre more glorious far _ than ancient rome could boast, they crowd in heaps, dismayed, and quite appalled. in meet array sheathed in refulgent arms, a noble band advance; great lords of high imperial blood, early resolved to assert their royal race, and prove by glorious deeds their valour's growth mature, ere yet the callow down has spread its curling shade. on bold arabian steeds with decent pride they sit, that fearless hear the lion's dreadful roar; and down the rock _ swift-shooting plunge, or o'er the mountain's ridge stretching along, the greedy tiger leave panting behind. on foot their faithful slaves with javelins armed attend; each watchful eye fixed on his youthful care, for him alone he fears, and to redeem his life, unmoved would lose his own. the mighty aurengzebe, from his high-elevated throne, beholds his blooming race; revolving in his mind what once he was, in his gay spring of life, _ when vigour strung his nerves. parental joy melts in his eyes, and flushes in his cheeks. now the loud trumpet sounds a charge. the shouts of eager hosts, through all the circling line, and the wild bowlings of the beasts within rend wide the welkin, flights of arrows, winged with death, and javelins launched from every arm, gall sore the brutal bands, with many a wound gored through and through. despair at last prevails, when fainting nature shrinks, and rouses all _ their drooping courage. swelled with furious rage, their eyes dart fire; and on the youthful band they rush implacable. they their broad shields quick interpose; on each devoted head their flaming falchions, as the bolts of jove, descend unerring. prostrate on the ground the grinning monsters lie, and their foul gore defiles the verdant plain. nor idle stand the trusty slaves; with pointed spears they pierce through their tough hides; or at their gaping mouths _ an easier passage find. the king of brutes in broken roarings breathes his last; the bear grumbles in death; nor can his spotted skin, though sleek it shine, with varied beauties gay, save the proud pard from unrelenting fate. the battle bleeds, grim slaughter strides along, glutting her greedy jaws, grins o'er her prey. men, horses, dogs, fierce beasts of every kind, a strange promiscuous carnage, drenched in blood, and heaps on heaps amassed. what yet remain _ alive, with vain assault contend to break the impenetrable line. others, whom fear inspires with self-preserving wiles, beneath the bodies of the slain for shelter creep. aghast they fly, or hide their heads dispersed. and now perchance (had heaven but pleased) the work of death had been complete; and aurengzebe by one dread frown extinguished half their race. when lo! the bright sultanas of his court appear, and to his ravished eyes display _ those charms, but rarely to the day revealed. lowly they bend, and humbly sue, to save the vanquished host. what mortal can deny when suppliant beauty begs? at his command opening to right and left, the well-trained troops leave a large void for their retreating foes. away they fly, on wings of fear upborne, to seek on distant hills their late abodes. ye proud oppressors, whose vain hearts exult in wantonness of power, 'gainst the brute race, _ fierce robbers like yourselves, a guiltless war wage uncontrolled: here quench your thirst of blood: but learn from aurengzebe to spare mankind. book iii. the argument. of king edgar and his imposing a tribute of wolves' heads upon the kings of wales: from hence a transition to fox-hunting, which is described in all its parts.--censure of an over-numerous pack.--of the several engines to destroy foxes, and other wild beasts.--the steel-trap described, and the manner of using it.--description of the pitfall for the lion; and another for the elephant.--the ancient way of hunting the tiger with a mirror.--the arabian manner of hunting the wild boar.--description of the royal stag-chase at windsor forest.--concludes with an address to his majesty, and an eulogy upon mercy. in albion's isle when glorious edgar reigned, he wisely provident, from her white cliffs launched half her forests, and with numerous fleets covered his wide domain: there proudly rode lord of the deep, the great prerogative of british monarchs. each invader bold, dane and norwegian, at a distance gazed, and disappointed, gnashed his teeth in vain. he scoured the seas, and to remotest shores with swelling sails the trembling corsair fled. _ rich commerce flourished; and with busy oars dashed the resounding surge. nor less at land his royal cares; wise, potent, gracious prince! his subjects from their cruel foes he saved, and from rapacious savages their flocks. cambria's proud kings (though with reluctance) paid their tributary wolves; head after head, in full account, till the woods yield no more, and all the ravenous race extinct is lost. in fertile pastures, more securely grazed _ the social troops; and soon their large increase with curling fleeces whitened all the plains. but yet, alas! the wily fox remained, a subtle, pilfering foe, prowling around in midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy. in the full fold, the poor defenceless lamb, seized by his guileful arts, with sweet warm blood supplies a rich repast. the mournful ewe, her dearest treasure lost, through the dun night wanders perplexed, and darkling bleats in vain: _ while in the adjacent bush, poor philomel, (herself a parent once, till wanton churls despoiled her nest) joins in her loud laments, with sweeter notes, and more melodious woe. for these nocturnal thieves, huntsman, prepare thy sharpest vengeance. oh! how glorious 'tis to right the oppressed, and bring the felon vile to just disgrace! ere yet the morning peep, or stars retire from the first blush of day, with thy far-echoing voice alarm thy pack, _ and rouse thy bold compeers. then to the copse, thick with entangling grass, or prickly furze, with silence lead thy many-coloured hounds, in all their beauty's pride. see! how they range dispersed, how busily this way and that, they cross, examining with curious nose each likely haunt. hark! on the drag i hear their doubtful notes, preluding to a cry more nobly full, and swelled with every mouth. as straggling armies at the trumpet's voice, _ press to their standard; hither all repair, and hurry through the woods; with hasty step bustling, and full of hope; now driven on heaps they push, they strive; while from his kennel sneaks the conscious villain. see! he skulks along, sleek at the shepherd's cost, and plump with meals purloined. so thrive the wicked here below. though high his brush he bear, though tipped with white it gaily shine; yet ere the sun declined recall the shades of night, the pampered rogue _ shall rue his fate reversed; and at his heels behold the just avenger, swift to seize his forfeit head, and thirsting for his blood. heavens! what melodious strains! how beat our hearts big with tumultuous joy! the loaded gales breathe harmony; and as the tempest drives from wood to wood, through every dark recess the forest thunders, and the mountains shake. the chorus swells; less various, and less sweet the trilling notes, when in those very groves, _ the feathered choristers salute the spring, and every bush in concert joins; or when the master's hand, in modulated air, bids the loud organ breathe, and all the powers of music in one instrument combine, an universal minstrelsy. and now in vain each earth he tries, the doors are barred impregnable, nor is the covert safe; he pants for purer air. hark! what loud shouts re-echo through the groves! he breaks away, _ shrill horns proclaim his flight. each straggling hound strains o'er the lawn to reach the distant pack. 'tis triumph all and joy. now, my brave youths, now give a loose to the clean generous steed; flourish the whip, nor spare the galling spur; but in the madness of delight, forget your fears. far o'er the rocky hills we range, and dangerous our course; but in the brave true courage never fails. in vain the stream in foaming eddies whirls; in vain the ditch _ wide-gaping threatens death. the craggy steep where the poor dizzy shepherd crawls with care, and clings to every twig, gives us no pain; but down we sweep, as stoops the falcon bold to pounce his prey. then up the opponent hill, by the swift motion slung, we mount aloft: so ships in winter-seas now sliding sink adown the steepy wave, then tossed on high ride on the billows, and defy the storm. what lengths we pass! where will the wandering chase _ lead us bewildered! smooth as the swallows skim the new-shorn mead, and far more swift we fly. see my brave pack! how to the head they press, jostling in close array; then more diffuse obliquely wheel, while from their opening mouths the vollied thunder breaks. so when the cranes their annual voyage steer, with wanton wing their figure oft they change, and their loud clang from cloud to cloud rebounds. how far behind the hunter-crew, wide straggling o'er the plain! _ the panting courser now with trembling nerves begins to reel; urged by the goring spur, makes many a faint effort: he snorts, he foams, the big round drops run trickling down his sides, with sweat and blood distained. look back and view the strange confusion of the vale below, where sour vexation reigns; see yon poor jade, in vain the impatient rider frets and swears, with galling spurs harrows his mangled sides; he can no more: his stiff unpliant limbs _ rooted in earth, unmoved and fixed he stands, for every cruel curse returns a groan, and sobs, and faints, and dies. who without grief can view that pampered steed, his master's joy, his minion, and his daily care, well clothed, well fed with every nicer cate; no cost, no labour spared; who, when the flying chase broke from the copse, without a rival led the numerous train: now a sad spectacle of pride brought low, and humbled insolence, _ drove like a panniered ass, and scourged along. while these with loosened reins, and dangling heels, hang on their reeling palfreys, that scarce bear their weights; another in the treacherous bog lies floundering half engulfed. what biting thoughts torment the abandoned crew! old age laments his vigour spent: the tall, plump, brawny youth curses his cumbrous bulk; and envies now the short pygmean race, he whilom kenn'd with proud insulting leer. a chosen few _ alone the sport enjoy, nor droop beneath their pleasing toils. here, huntsman, from this height observe yon birds of prey; if i can judge, 'tis there the villain lurks; they hover round and claim him as their own. was i not right? see! there he creeps along; his brush he drags, and sweeps the mire impure; from his wide jaws his tongue unmoistened hangs; symptoms too sure of sudden death. ha! yet he flies, nor yields to black despair. but one loose more, and all _ his wiles are vain. hark! through yon village now the rattling clamour rings. the barns, the cots and leafless elms return the joyous sounds. through every homestall, and through every yard, his midnight walks, panting, forlorn, he flies; through every hole he sneaks, through every jakes plunging he wades besmeared, and fondly hopes in a superior stench to lose his own: but faithful to the track, the unerring hounds with peals of echoing vengeance close pursue. _ and now distressed, no sheltering covert near, into the hen-roost creeps, whose walls with gore distained attest his guilt. there, villain, there expect thy fate deserved. and soon from thence the pack inquisitive, with clamour loud, drag out their trembling prize; and on his blood with greedy transport feast. in bolder notes each sounding horn proclaims the felon dead: and all the assembled village shouts for joy. the farmer who beholds his mortal foe _ stretched at his feet, applauds the glorious deed, and grateful calls us to a short repast! in the full glass the liquid amber smiles, our native product. and his good old mate with choicest viands heaps the liberal board, to crown our triumphs, and reward our toils. here must the instructive muse (but with respect) censure that numerous pack, that crowd of state, with which the vain profusion of the great covers the lawn, and shakes the trembling copse. _ pompous incumbrance! a magnificence useless, vexatious! for the wily fox, safe in the increasing number of his foes, kens well the great advantage: slinks behind and slily creeps through the same beaten track, and hunts them step by step; then views escaped with inward ecstasy, the panting throng in their own footsteps puzzled, foiled and lost. so when proud eastern kings summon to arms their gaudy legions, from far distant climes _ they flock in crowds, unpeopling half a world: but when the day of battle calls them forth to charge the well-trained foe, a band compact of chosen veterans; they press blindly on, in heaps confused, by their own weapons fall, a smoking carnage scattered o'er the plain. nor hounds alone this noxious brood destroy: the plundered warrener full many a wile devises to entrap his greedy foe, fat with nocturnal spoils. at close of day, _ with silence drags his trail; then from the ground pares thin the close-grazed turf, there with nice hand covers the latent death, with curious springs prepared to fly at once, whene'er the tread of man or beast unwarily shall press the yielding surface. by the indented steel with gripe tenacious held, the felon grins, and struggles, but in vain: yet oft 'tis known, when every art has failed, the captive fox has shared the wounded joint, and with a limb _ compounded for his life. but if perchance in the deep pitfall plunged, there's no escape; but unreprieved he dies, and bleached in air the jest of clowns, his reeking carcase hangs. of these are various kinds; not even the king of brutes evades this deep devouring grave: but by the wily african betrayed, heedless of fate, within its gaping jaws expires indignant. when the orient beam with blushes paints the dawn; and all the race _ carnivorous, with blood full-gorged, retire into their darksome cells, there satiate snore o'er dripping offals, and the mangled limbs of men and beasts; the painful forester climbs the high hills, whose proud aspiring tops, with the tall cedar crowned, and taper fir, assail the clouds. there 'mong the craggy rocks, and thickets intricate, trembling he views his footsteps in the sand; the dismal road and avenue to death. hither he calls _ his watchful bands; and low into the ground a pit they sink, full many a fathom deep. then in the midst a column high is reared, the butt of some fair tree; upon whose top a lamb is placed, just ravished from his dam. and next a wall they build, with stones and earth encircling round, and hiding from all view the dreadful precipice. now when the shades of night hang lowering o'er the mountain's brow; and hunger keen, and pungent thirst of blood, _ rouse up the slothful beast, he shakes his sides, slow-rising from his lair, and stretches wide his ravenous jaws, with recent gore distained. the forests tremble, as he roars aloud, impatient to destroy. o'erjoyed he hears the bleating innocent, that claims in vain the shepherd's care, and seeks with piteous moan the foodful teat; himself, alas! designed another's meal. for now the greedy brute winds him from far; and leaping o'er the mound _ to seize his trembling prey, headlong is plunged into the deep abyss. prostrate he lies astunned and impotent. ah! what avail thine eye-balls flashing fire, thy length of tail, that lashes thy broad sides, thy jaws besmeared with blood and offals crude, thy shaggy mane the terror of the woods, thy stately port, and bulk enormous, since by stratagem thy strength is foiled? unequal is the strife, when sovereign reason combats brutal rage. _ on distant ethiopia's sun-burnt coasts, the black inhabitants a pitfall frame, but of a different kind, and different use. with slender poles the wide capacious mouth, and hurdles slight, they close; o'er these is spread a floor of verdant turf, with all its flowers smiling delusive, and from strictest search concealing the deep grave that yawns below. then boughs of trees they cut, with tempting fruit of various kinds surcharged; the downy peach, _ the clustering vine, and of bright golden rind the fragrant orange. soon as evening gray advances slow, besprinkling all around with kind refreshing dews the thirsty glebe, the stately elephant from the close shade with step majestic strides, eager to taste the cooler breeze, that from the sea-beat shore delightful breathes, or in the limpid stream to lave his panting sides; joyous he scents the rich repast, unweeting of the death _ that lurks within. and soon he sporting breaks the brittle boughs, and greedily devours the fruit delicious. ah! too dearly bought; the price is life. for now the treacherous turf trembling gives way; and the unwieldy beast self-sinking, drops into the dark profound. so when dilated vapours, struggling heave the incumbent earth; if chance the caverned ground shrinking subside, and the thin surface yield, down sinks at once the ponderous dome, engulfed _ with all its towers. subtle, delusive man! how various are thy wiles! artful to kill thy savage foes, a dull unthinking race! fierce from his lair, springs forth the speckled pard, thirsting for blood, and eager to destroy; the huntsman flies, but to his flight alone confides not: at convenient distance fixed, a polished mirror stops in full career the furious brute: he there his image views; spots against spots with rage improving glow; _ another pard his bristly whiskers curls, grins as he grins, fierce-menacing, and wide distends his opening jaws; himself against himself opposed, and with dread vengeance armed. the huntsman now secure, with fatal aim directs the pointed spear, by which transfixed he dies, and with him dies the rival shade. thus man innumerous engines forms, to assail the savage kind: but most the docile horse, swift and confederate with man, annoys _ his brethren of the plains; without whose aid the hunter's arts are vain, unskilled to wage with the more active brutes an equal war. but borne by him, without the well-trained pack, man dares his foe, on wings of wind secure. him the fierce arab mounts, and with his troop of bold compeers, ranges the deserts wild, where by the magnet's aid, the traveller steers his untrodden course; yet oft on land is wrecked, in the high-rolling waves of sand _ immersed and lost; while these intrepid bands, safe in their horses' speed, out-fly the storm, and scouring round, make men and beasts their prey. the grisly boar is singled from his herd as large as that in erimanthian woods. a match for hercules. round him they fly in circles wide; and each in passing sends his feathered death into his brawny sides. but perilous the attempt. for if the steed haply too near approach; or the loose earth _ his footing fail; the watchful angry beast the advantage spies; and at one sidelong glance rips up his groin. wounded, he rears aloft, and plunging, from his back the rider hurls precipitant; then bleeding spurns the ground, and drags his reeking entrails o'er the plain. meanwhile the surly monster trots along, but with unequal speed; for still they wound, swift-wheeling in the spacious ring. a wood of darts upon his back he bears; adown _ his tortured sides, the crimson torrents roll from many a gaping font. and now at last staggering he falls, in blood and foam expires. but whither roves my devious muse, intent on antique tales, while yet the royal stag unsung remains? tread with respectful awe windsor's green glades; where denham, tuneful bard, charmed once the listening dryads, with his song sublimely sweet. oh! grant me, sacred shade, to glean submiss what thy full sickle leaves. _ the morning sun that gilds with trembling rays windsor's high towers, beholds the courtly train mount for the chase, nor views in all his course a scene so gay: heroic, noble youths, in arts and arms renowned, and lovely nymphs the fairest of this isle, where beauty dwells delighted, and deserts her paphian grove for our more favoured shades: in proud parade these shine magnificent, and press around the royal happy pair. great in themselves, _ they smile superior; of external show regardless, while their inbred virtues give a lustre to their power, and grace their court with real splendours, far above the pomp of eastern kings, in all their tinsel pride. like troops of amazons, the female band prance round their cars, not in refulgent arms as those of old; unskilled to wield the sword, or bend the bow, these kill with surer aim. the royal offspring, fairest of the fair, _ lead on the splendid train. anna, more bright than summer suns, or as the lightning keen, with irresistible effulgence armed, fires every heart. he must be more than man, who unconcerned can bear the piercing ray. amelia, milder than the blushing dawn, with sweet engaging air, but equal power, insensibly subdues, and in soft chains her willing captives leads. illustrious maids, ever triumphant! whose victorious charms, _ without the needless aid of high descent, had awed mankind, and taught the world's great lords to bow and sue for grace. but who is he fresh as a rose-bud newly blown, and fair as opening lilies; on whom every eye with joy and admiration dwells? see, see, he reins his docile barb with manly grace. is it adonis for the chase arrayed? or britain's second hope? hail, blooming youth![ ] may all your virtues with your years improve, _ till in consumate worth, you shine the pride of these our days, and to succeeding times a bright example. as his guard of mutes on the great sultan wait, with eyes deject and fixed on earth, no voice, no sound is heard within the wide serail, but all is hushed, and awful silence reigns; thus stand the pack mute and unmoved, and cowering low to earth, while pass the glittering court, and royal pair: so disciplined those hounds, and so reserved, _ whose honour 'tis to glad the hearts of kings. but soon the winding horn, and huntsman's voice, let loose the general chorus; far around joy spreads its wings, and the gay morning smiles. unharboured now the royal stag forsakes his wonted lair; he shakes his dappled sides, and tosses high his beamy head, the copse beneath his antlers bends. what doubling shifts he tries! not more the wily hare; in these would still persist, did not the full-mouthed pack _ with dreadful concert thunder in his rear. the woods reply, the hunter's cheering shouts float through the glades, and the wide forest rings. how merrily they chant! their nostrils deep inhale the grateful steam. such is the cry, and such the harmonious din, the soldier deems the battle kindling, and the statesman grave forgets his weighty cares; each age, each sex in the wild transport joins; luxuriant joy, and pleasure in excess, sparkling exult _ on every brow, and revel unrestrained. how happy art thou, man, when thou 'rt no more thyself! when all the pangs that grind thy soul, in rapture and in sweet oblivion lost, yield a short interval, and ease from pain! see the swift courser strains, his shining hoofs securely beat the solid ground. who now the dangerous pitfall fears, with tangling heath high-overgrown? or who the quivering bog soft yielding to the step? all now is plain, _ plain as the strand sea-laved, that stretches far beneath the rocky shore. glades crossing glades the forest opens to our wondering view: such was the king's command. let tyrants fierce lay waste the world; his the more glorious part to check their pride; and when the brazen voice of war is hushed (as erst victorious rome) to employ his stationed legions in the works of peace; to smoothe the rugged wilderness, to drain the stagnate fen, to raise the slope _ depending road, and to make gay the face of nature, with the embellishments of art. how melts my beating heart! as i behold each lovely nymph our island's boast and pride, push on the generous steed, that strokes along o'er rough, o'er smooth, nor heeds the steepy hill, nor falters in the extended vale below: their garments loosely waving in the wind, and all the flush of beauty in their cheeks! while at their sides their pensive lovers wait, _ direct their dubious course; now chilled with fear solicitous, and now with love inflamed. oh! grant, indulgent heaven, no rising storm may darken with black wings, this glorious scene! should some malignant power thus damp our joys, vain were the gloomy cave, such as of old betrayed to lawless love the tyrian queen. for britain's virtuous nymphs are chaste as fair, spotless, unblamed, with equal triumph reign in the dun gloom, as in the blaze of day. _ now the blown stag, through woods, bogs, roads, and streams has measured half the forest; but alas! he flies in vain, he flies not from his fears. though far he cast the lingering pack behind, his haggard fancy still with horror views the fell destroyer; still the fatal cry insults his ears, and wounds his trembling heart. so the poor fury-haunted wretch (his hands in guiltless blood distained) still seems to hear the dying shrieks; and the pale threatening ghost _ moves as he moves, and as he flies pursues. see here his slot; up yon green hill he climbs, pants on its brow a while, sadly looks back on his pursuers, covering all the plain; but wrung with anguish, bears not long the sight, shoots down the steep, and sweats along the vale: there mingles with the herd, where once he reigned proud monarch of the groves, whose clashing beam his rivals awed, and whose exalted power was still rewarded with successful love. _ but the base herd have learned the ways of men, averse they fly, or with rebellious aim chase him from thence: needless their impious deed, the huntsman knows him by a thousand marks, black, and embossed; nor are his hounds deceived; too well distinguish these, and never leave their once devoted foe; familiar grows his scent, and strong their appetite to kill. again he flies, and with redoubled speed skims o'er the lawn; still the tenacious crew _ hang on the track, aloud demand their prey, and push him many a league. if haply then too far escaped, and the gay courtly train behind are cast, the huntsman's clanging whip stops full their bold career; passive they stand, unmoved, an humble, an obsequious crowd, as if by stern medusa gazed to stones. so at their general's voice whole armies halt in full pursuit, and check their thirst of blood. soon at the king's command, like hasty streams _ dammed up a while, they foam, and pour along with fresh-recruited might. the stag, who hoped his foes were lost, now once more hears astunned the dreadful din; he shivers every limb, he starts, he bounds; each bush presents a foe. pressed by the fresh relay, no pause allowed, breathless, and faint, he falters in his pace, and lifts his weary limbs with pain, that scarce sustain their load! he pants, he sobs appalled; drops down his heavy head to earth, beneath _ his cumbrous beams oppressed. but if perchance some prying eye surprise him; soon he rears erect his towering front, bounds o'er the lawn with ill-dissembled vigour, to amuse the knowing forester; who inly smiles at his weak shifts, and unavailing frauds. so midnight tapers waste their last remains, shine forth a while, and as they blaze expire. from wood to wood redoubling thunders roll, and bellow through the vales; the moving storm _ thickens amain, and loud triumphant shouts, and horns shrill-warbling in each glade, prelude to his approaching fate. and now in view with hobbling gait, and high, exerts amazed what strength is left: to the last dregs of life reduced, his spirits fail, on every side hemmed in, besieged; not the least opening left to gleaming hope, the unhappy's last reserve. where shall he turn? or whither fly? despair gives courage to the weak. resolved to die, _ he fears no more, but rushes on his foes, and deals his deaths around; beneath his feet these grovelling lie, those by his antlers gored defile the ensanguined plain. ah! see distressed he stands at bay against yon knotty trunk, that covers well his rear, his front presents an host of foes. oh! shun, ye noble train, the rude encounter, and believe your lives your country's due alone. as now aloof they wing around, he finds his soul upraised _ to dare some great exploit; he charges home upon the broken pack, that on each side fly diverse; then as o'er the turf he strains, he vents the cooling stream, and up the breeze urges his course with eager violence: then takes the soil, and plunges in the flood precipitant; down the mid-stream he wafts along, till (like a ship distressed, that runs into some winding creek) close to the verge of a small island, for his weary feet _ sure anchorage he finds, there skulks immersed. his nose alone above the wave draws in the vital air; all else beneath the flood concealed, and lost, deceives each prying eye of man or brute. in vain the crowding pack draw on the margin of the stream, or cut the liquid wave with oary feet, that move in equal time. the gliding waters leave no trace behind, and his contracted pores but sparingly perspire: the huntsman strains _ his labouring lungs, and puffs his cheeks in vain; at length a blood-hound bold, studious to kill, and exquisite of sense, winds him from far; headlong he leaps into the flood, his mouth loud opening spends amain, and his wide throat swells every note with joy; then fearless dives beneath the wave, hangs on his haunch, and wounds the unhappy brute, that flounders in the stream, sorely distressed, and struggling strives to mount the steepy shore. haply once more escaped, _ again he stands at bay, amid the groves of willows, bending low their downy heads. outrageous transport fires the greedy pack; these swim the deep, and those crawl up with pain the slippery bank, while others on firm land engage; the stag repels each bold assault, maintains his post, and wounds for wounds returns. as when some wily corsair boards a ship full-freighted, or from afric's golden coasts, or india's wealthy strand, his bloody crew _ upon her deck he slings; these in the deep drop short, and swim to reach her steepy sides, and clinging, climb aloft; while those on board urge on the work of fate; the master bold, pressed to his last retreat, bravely resolves to sink his wealth beneath the whelming wave, his wealth, his foes, nor unrevenged to die. so fares it with the stag: so he resolves to plunge at once into the flood below, himself, his foes in one deep gulf immersed. _ ere yet he executes this dire intent, in wild disorder once more views the light; beneath a weight of woe, he groans distressed: the tears run trickling down his hairy cheeks; he weeps, nor weeps in vain. the king beholds his wretched plight, and tenderness innate moves his great soul. soon at his high command rebuked, the disappointed, hungry pack retire submiss, and grumbling quit their prey. great prince! from thee, what may thy subjects hope; _ so kind, and so beneficent to brutes? o mercy, heavenly born! sweet attribute! thou great, thou best prerogative of power! justice may guard the throne, but joined with thee, on rocks of adamant it stands secure, and braves the storm beneath; soon as thy smiles gild the rough deep, the foaming waves subside, and all the noisy tumult sinks in peace. book iv. the argument. of the necessity of destroying some beasts, and preserving others for the use of man.--of breeding of hounds; the season for this business.--the choice of the dog, of great moment.--of the litter of whelps.--number to be reared.--of setting them out to their several walks.--care to be taken to prevent their hunting too soon.--of entering the whelps.--of breaking them from running at sheep.-of the diseases of hounds.-of their age.--of madness; two sorts of it described, the dumb, and outrageous madness: its dreadful effects.--burning of the wound recommended as preventing all ill consequences.--the infectious hounds to be separated, and fed apart.--the vanity of trusting to the many infallible cures for this malady.--the dismal effects of the biting of a mad dog, upon man, described. --description of the otter hunting.--the conclusion. whate'er of earth is formed, to earth returns dissolved: the various objects we behold, plants, animals, this whole material mass, are ever changing, ever new. the soul of man alone, that particle divine, escapes the wreck of worlds, when all things fail. hence great the distance 'twixt the beasts that perish, and god's bright image, man's immortal race. the brute creation are his property, subservient to his will, and for him made. _ as hurtful these he kills, as useful those preserves; their sole and arbitrary king. should he not kill, as erst the samian sage taught unadvised, and indian brahmins now as vainly preach; the teeming ravenous brutes might fill the scanty space of this terrene, encumbering all the globe: should not his care improve his growing stock, their kinds might fail, man might once more on roots, and acorns, feed, and through the deserts range, shivering, forlorn, _ quite destitute of every solace dear, and every smiling gaiety of life. the prudent huntsman, therefore, will supply, with annual large recruits, his broken pack, and propagate their kind. as from the root fresh scions still spring forth, and daily yield new blooming honours to the parent-tree; far shall his pack be famed, far sought his breed, and princes at their tables feast those hounds his hand presents, an acceptable boon. _ ere yet the sun through the bright ram has urged his steepy course, or mother earth unbound her frozen bosom to the western gale; when feathered troops, their social leagues dissolved, select their mates, and on the leafless elm the noisy rook builds high her wicker nest; mark well the wanton females of thy pack, that curl their taper tails, and frisking court their pyebald mates enamoured; their red eyes flash fires impure; nor rest, nor food they take, _ goaded by furious love. in separate cells confine them now, lest bloody civil wars annoy thy peaceful state. if left at large, the growling rivals in dread battle join, and rude encounter. on scamander's streams heroes of old with far less fury fought, for the bright spartan dame, their valour's prize. mangled and torn thy favourite hounds shall lie, stretched on the ground; thy kennel shall appear a field of blood: like some unhappy town _ in civil broils confused, while discord shakes her bloody scourge aloft, fierce parties rage, staining their impious hands in mutual death. and still the best beloved, and bravest fall: such are the dire effects of lawless love. huntsman! these ills by timely prudent care prevent: for every longing dame select some happy paramour; to him alone in leagues connubial join. consider well his lineage; what his fathers did of old, _ chiefs of the pack, and first to climb the rock, or plunge into the deep, or thread the brake with thorns sharp-pointed, plashed, and briers inwoven. observe with care his shape, sort, colour, size. nor will sagacious huntsmen less regard his inward habits: the vain babbler shun, ever loquacious, ever in the wrong. his foolish offspring shall offend thy ears with false alarms, and loud impertinence. nor less the shifting cur avoid, that breaks _ illusive from the pack; to the next hedge devious he strays, there every mews he tries: if haply then he cross the steaming scent, away he flies vain-glorious; and exults as of the pack supreme, and in his speed and strength unrivalled. lo! cast far behind his vexed associates pant, and labouring strain to climb the steep ascent. soon as they reach the insulting boaster, his false courage fails, behind he lags, doomed to the fatal noose, _ his master's hate, and scorn of all the field. what can from such be hoped, but a base brood of coward curs, a frantic, vagrant race? when now the third revolving moon appears, with sharpened horns, above the horizon's brink; without lucina's aid, expect thy hopes are amply crowned; short pangs produce to light the smoking litter; crawling, helpless, blind, nature their guide, they seek the pouting teat that plenteous streams. soon as the tender dam _ has formed them with her tongue, with pleasure view the marks of their renowned progenitors, sure pledge of triumphs yet to come. all these select with joy; but to the merciless flood expose the dwindling refuse, nor o'erload the indulgent mother. if thy heart relent, unwilling to destroy, a nurse provide, and to the foster-parent give the care of thy superfluous brood; she'll cherish kind the alien offspring; pleased thou shalt behold _ her tenderness, and hospitable love. if frolic now, and playful they desert their gloomy cell, and on the verdant turf with nerves improved, pursue the mimic chase, coursing around; unto thy choicest friends commit thy valued prize: the rustic dames shall at thy kennel wait, and in their laps receive thy growing hopes, with many a kiss caress, and dignify their little charge with some great title, and resounding name _ of high import. but cautious here observe to check their youthful ardour, nor permit the unexperienced younker, immature, alone to range the woods, or haunt the brakes where dodging conies sport: his nerves unstrung, and strength unequal; the laborious chase shall stint his growth, and his rash forward youth contract such vicious habits, as thy care and late correction never shall reclaim. when to full strength arrived, mature and bold, _ conduct them to the field; not all at once but as thy cooler prudence shall direct, select a few, and form them by degrees to stricter discipline. with these consort the stanch and steady sages of thy pack, by long experience versed in all the wiles, and subtle doublings of the various chase. easy the lesson of the youthful train, when instinct prompts, and when example guides. if the too forward younker at the head _ press boldly on, in wanton sportive mood, correct his haste, and let him feel abashed the ruling whip. but if he stoop behind in wary modest guise, to his own nose confiding sure; give him full scope to work his winding way, and with thy voice applaud his patience, and his care; soon shalt thou view the hopeful pupil leader of his tribe, and all the listening pack attend his call. oft lead them forth where wanton lambkins play, _ and bleating dams with jealous eyes observe their tender care. if at the crowding flock he bay presumptuous, or with eager haste pursue them scattered o'er the verdant plain; in the foul fact attached, to the strong ram tie fast the rash offender. see! at first his horned companion, fearful, and amazed, shall drag him trembling o'er the rugged ground; then with his load fatigued, shall turn a-head, and with his curled hard front incessant peal _ the panting wretch; till breathless and astunned, stretched on the turf he lie. then spare not thou the twining whip, but ply his bleeding sides lash after lash, and with thy threatening voice, harsh-echoing from the hills, inculcate loud his vile offence. sooner shall trembling doves escaped the hawk's sharp talons, in mid air, assail their dangerous foe, than he once more disturb the peaceful flocks. in tender age thus youth is trained; as curious artists bend _ the taper, pliant twig; or potters form their soft and ductile clay to various shapes. nor is't enough to breed; but to preserve must be the huntsman's care. the stanch old hounds guides of thy pack, though but in number few, are yet of great account; shall oft untie the gordian knot, when reason at a stand puzzling is lost, and all thy art is vain. o'er clogging fallows, o'er dry plastered roads, o'er floated meads, o'er plains with flocks distained _ rank-scenting, these must lead the dubious way. as party-chiefs in senates who preside, with pleaded reason and with well turned speech conduct the staring multitude; so these direct the pack, who with joint cry approve, and loudly boast discoveries not their own. unnumbered accidents, and various ills, attend thy pack, hang hovering o'er their heads, and point the way that leads to death's dark cave. short is their span; few at the date arrive of ancient argus in old homer's song _ so highly honoured: kind, sagacious brute! not even minerva's wisdom could conceal thy much-loved master from thy nicer sense. dying, his lord he owned, viewed him all o'er with eager eyes, then closed those eyes, well pleased. of lesser ills the muse declines to sing, nor stoops so low; of these each groom can tell the proper remedy. but oh! what care! what prudence can prevent madness, the worst of maladies? terrific pest! that blasts _ the huntsman's hopes, and desolation spreads through all the unpeopled kennel unrestrained. more fatal than the envenomed viper's bite; or that apulian[ ] spider's poisonous sting, healed by the pleasing antidote of sounds. when sirius reigns, and the sun's parching beams bake the dry gaping surface, visit thou each even and morn, with quick observant eye, thy panting pack. if in dark sullen mood, the gloating hound refuse his wonted meal, _ retiring to some close, obscure retreat, gloomy, disconsolate: with speed remove the poor infectious wretch, and in strong chains bind him suspected. thus that dire disease which art can't cure, wise caution may prevent. but this neglected, soon expect a change, a dismal change, confusion, frenzy, death. or in some dark recess the senseless brute sits sadly pining: deep melancholy, and black despair, upon his clouded brow _ hang lowering; from his half-opening jaws the clammy venom, and infectious froth, distilling fall; and from his lungs inflamed, malignant vapours taint the ambient air, breathing perdition: his dim eyes are glazed, he droops his pensive head, his trembling limbs no more support his weight; abject he lies, dumb, spiritless, benumbed; till death at last gracious attends, and kindly brings relief. or if outrageous grown, behold alas! _ a yet more dreadful scene; his glaring eye redden with fury, like some angry boar churning he foams; and on his back erect his pointed bristles rise; his tail incurved he drops, and with harsh broken bowlings rends the poison-tainted air, with rough hoarse voice incessant bays; and snuff's the infectious breeze; this way and that he stares aghast, and starts at his own shade; jealous, as if he deemed the world his foes. if haply toward the stream _ he cast his roving eye, cold horror chills his soul; averse he flies, trembling, appalled. now frantic to the kennel's utmost verge raving he runs, and deals destruction round. the pack fly diverse; for whate'er he meets vengeful he bites, and every bite is death. if now perchance through the weak fence escaped, far up the wind he roves, with open mouth inhales the cooling breeze, nor man, nor beast he spares, implacable. the hunter-horse, _ once kind associate of his sylvan toils, (who haply now without the kennel's mound crops the rank mead, and listening hears with joy the cheering cry, that morn and eve salutes his raptured sense) a wretched victim falls. unhappy quadruped! no more, alas! shall thy fond master with his voice applaud thy gentleness, thy speed; or with his hand stroke thy soft dappled sides, as he each day visits thy stall, well pleased; no more shalt thou _ with sprightly neighings, to the winding horn and the loud opening pack in concert joined, glad his proud heart. for oh! the secret wound rankling inflames, he bites the ground and dies. hence to the village with pernicious haste baleful he bends his course: the village flies alarmed; the tender mother in her arms hugs close the trembling babe; the doors are barred, and flying curs, by native instinct taught, shun the contagious bane; the rustic bands _ hurry to arms, the rude militia seize whate'er at hand they find; clubs, forks, or guns from every quarter charge the furious foe, in wild disorder, and uncouth array: till now with wounds on wounds oppressed and gored, at one short poisonous gasp he breathes his last. hence to the kennel, muse, return, and view with heavy heart that hospital of woe: where horror stalks at large; insatiate death sits growling o'er his prey: each hour presents _ a different scene of ruin and distress. how busy art thou, fate! and how severe thy pointed wrath! the dying and the dead promiscuous lie; o'er these the living fight in one eternal broil; not conscious why, nor yet with whom. so drunkards in their cups, spare not their friends, while senseless squabble reigns. huntsman! it much behoves thee to avoid the perilous debate! ah! rouse up all thy vigilance, and tread the treacherous ground _ with careful step. thy fires unquenched preserve, as erst the vestal flame; the pointed steel in the hot embers hide; and if surprised thou feel'st the deadly bite, quick urge it home into the recent sore, and cauterise the wound; spare not thy flesh, nor dread the event: vulcan shall save when aesculapius fails. here, should the knowing muse recount the means to stop this growing plague. and here, alas! each hand presents a sovereign cure, and boasts _ infallibility, but boasts in vain. on this depend, each to his separate seat confine, in fetters bound; give each his mess apart, his range in open air; and then if deadly symptoms to thy grief appear, devote the wretch, and let him greatly fall, a generous victim for the public weal. sing, philosophic muse, the dire effects of this contagious bite on hapless man. the rustic swains, by long tradition taught _ of leeches old, as soon as they perceive the bite impressed, to the sea-coasts repair. plunged in the briny flood, the unhappy youth now journeys home secure; but soon shall wish the seas as yet had covered him beneath the foaming surge, full many a fathom deep. a fate more dismal, and superior ills hang o'er his head devoted. when the moon, closing her monthly round, returns again to glad the night; or when full orbed she shines _ high in the vault of heaven; the lurking pest begins the dire assault. the poisonous foam, through the deep wound instilled with hostile rage, and all its fiery particles saline, invades the arterial fluid; whose red waves tempestuous heave, and their cohesion broke, fermenting boil; intestine war ensues, and order to confusion turns embroiled. now the distended vessels scarce contain the wild uproar, but press each weaker part, _ unable to resist: the tender brain and stomach suffer most; convulsions shake his trembling nerves, and wandering pungent pains pinch sore the sleepless wretch; his fluttering pulse oft intermits; pensive, and sad, he mourns his cruel fate, and to his weeping friends laments in vain; to hasty anger prone, resents each slight offence, walks with quick step, and wildly stares; at last with boundless sway the tyrant frenzy reigns. for as the dog _ (whose fatal bite conveyed the infectious bane) raving he foams, and howls, and barks, and bites. like agitations in his boiling blood present like species to his troubled mind; his nature, and his actions all canine. so as (old homer sung) the associates wild of wandering ithacus, by circe's charms to swine transformed, ran grunting through the groves. dreadful example to a wicked world! see there distressed he lies! parched up with thirst, _ but dares not drink. till now at last his soul trembling escapes, her noisome dungeon leaves, and to some purer region wings away. one labour yet remains, celestial maid! another element demands thy song. no more o'er craggy steeps, through coverts thick with pointed thorn, and briers intricate, urge on with horn and voice the painful pack but skim with wanton wing the irriguous vale, where winding streams amid the flowery meads _ perpetual glide along; and undermine the caverned banks, by the tenacious roots of hoary willows arched; gloomy retreat of the bright scaly kind; where they at will, on the green watery reed their pasture graze, suck the moist soil, or slumber at their ease, rocked by the restless brook, that draws aslope its humid train, and laves their dark abodes. where rages not oppression? where, alas! is innocence secure? rapine and spoil _ haunt even the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks, rivers and ponds inclose the ravenous pike; he in his turn becomes a prey; on him the amphibious otter feasts. just is his fate deserved; but tyrants know no bounds; nor spears that bristle on his back, defend the perch from his wide greedy jaws; nor burnished mail the yellow carp; nor all his arts can save the insinuating eel, that hides his head beneath the slimy mud; nor yet escapes _ the crimson-spotted trout, the river's pride, and beauty of the stream. without remorse, this midnight pillager ranging around, insatiate swallows all. the owner mourns the unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hears the huntsman's early call, and sees with joy the jovial crew, that march upon its banks in gay parade, with bearded lances armed. this subtle spoiler of the beaver kind, far off, perhaps, where ancient alders shade the deep still pool; within some hollow trunk _ contrives his wicker couch: whence he surveys his long purlieu, lord of the stream, and all the finny shoals his own. but you, brave youths, dispute the felon's claim; try every root, and every reedy bank; encourage all the busy-spreading pack, that fearless plunge into the flood, and cross the rapid stream. bid rocks and caves, and each resounding shore, proclaim your bold defiance; loudly raise _ each cheering voice, till distant hills repeat the triumphs of the vale. on the soft sand see there his seal impressed! and on that bank behold the glittering spoils, half-eaten fish, scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast. ah! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once more his seal i view. o'er yon dank rushy marsh the sly goose-footed prowler bends his course, and seeks the distant shallows. huntsman, bring thy eager pack; and trail him to his couch. _ hark! the loud peal begins, the clamorous joy, the gallant chiding, loads the trembling air. ye naiads fair, who o'er these floods preside, raise up your dripping heads above the wave, and hear our melody. the harmonious notes float with the stream; and every winding creek and hollow rock, that o'er the dimpling flood nods pendant; still improve from shore to shore our sweet reiterated joys. what shouts! what clamour loud! what gay heart-cheering sounds _ urge through, the breathing brass their mazy way! nor choirs of tritons glad with sprightlier strains the dancing billows, when proud neptune rides in triumph o'er the deep. how greedily they snuff the fishy steam, that to each blade rank-scenting clings! see! how the morning dews they sweep, that from their feet besprinkling drop dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind. now on firm land they range; then in the flood they plunge tumultuous; or through reedy pools _ rustling they work their way: no holt escapes their curious search. with quick sensation now the fuming vapour stings; flutter their hearts, and joy redoubled bursts from every mouth in louder symphonies. yon hollow trunk, that with its hoary head incurved, salutes the passing wave, must be the tyrant's fort, and dread abode. how these impatient climb, while others at the root incessant bay: they put him down. see, there he dives along! _ the ascending bubbles mark his gloomy way. quick fix the nets, and cut off his retreat into the sheltering deeps. ah, there he vents! the pack lunge headlong, and protended spears menace destruction: while the troubled surge indignant foams, and all the scaly kind affrighted, hide their heads. wild tumult reigns, and loud uproar. ah, there once more he vents! see, that bold hound has seized him; down they sink, together lost: but soon shall he repent _ his rash assault. see there escaped, he flies half-drowned, and clambers up the slippery bank with ouze and blood distained. of all the brutes, whether by nature formed, or by long use, this artful diver best can bear the want of vital air. unequal is the fight, beneath the whelming element. yet there he lives not long; but respiration needs at proper intervals. again he vents; again the crowd attack. that spear has pierced _ his neck; the crimson waves confess the wound. fixed is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest, where'er he flies; with him it sinks beneath, with him it mounts; sure guide to every foe. inly he groans; nor can his tender wound bear the cold stream. lo! to yon sedgy bank he creeps disconsolate; his numerous foes surround him, hounds and men. pierced through and through, on pointed spears they lift him high in air; wriggling he hangs, and grins, and bites in vain: _ bid the loud horns, in gaily warbling strains, proclaim the felon's fate; he dies, he dies. rejoice, ye scaly tribes, and leaping dance above the wave, in sign of liberty restored; the cruel tyrant is no more. rejoice, secure and blessed; did not as yet remain, some of your own rapacious kind; and man, fierce man, with all his various wiles. o happy, if ye knew your happy state, ye rangers of the fields! whom nature boon _ cheers with her smiles, and every element conspires to bless. what, if no heroes frown from marble pedestals; nor raphael's works, nor titian's lively tints, adorn our walls? yet these the meanest of us may behold; and at another's cost may feast at will our wondering eyes; what can the owner more? but vain, alas! is wealth, not graced with power. the flowery landscape, and the gilded dome, and vistas opening to the wearied eye, _ through all his wide domain; the planted grove, the shrubby wilderness with its gay choir of warbling birds, can't lull to soft repose the ambitious wretch, whose discontented soul is harrowed day and night; he mourns, he pines, until his prince's favour makes him great. see, there he comes, the exalted idol comes! the circle's formed, and all his fawning slaves devoutly bow to earth; from every mouth the nauseous flattery flows, which he returns _ with promises, that die as soon as born. vile intercourse! where virtue has no place. frown but the monarch; all his glories fade; he mingles with the throng, outcast, undone, the pageant of a day; without one friend to soothe his tortured mind; all, all are fled. for though they basked in his meridian ray, the insects vanish, as his beams decline. not such our friends; for here no dark design, no wicked interest bribes the venal heart; _ but inclination to our bosom leads, and weds them there for life; our social cups smile, as we smile; open, and unreserved. we speak our inmost souls; good humour, mirth, soft complaisance, and wit from malice free, smoothe every brow, and glow on every cheek. o happiness sincere! what wretch would groan beneath the galling load of power, or walk upon the slippery pavements of the great, who thus could reign, unenvied and secure? _ ye guardian powers who make mankind your care, give me to know wise nature's hidden depths, trace each mysterious cause, with judgment read the expanded volume, and submiss adore that great creative will, who at a word spoke forth the wondrous scene. but if my soul to this gross clay confined, flutters on earth with less ambitious wing; unskilled to range from orb to orb, where newton leads the way; and view with piercing eyes, the grand machine, _ worlds above worlds; subservient to his voice, who veiled in clouded majesty, alone gives light to all; bids the great system move, and changeful seasons in their turns advance, unmoved, unchanged himself; yet this at least grant me propitious, an inglorious life, calm and serene, nor lost in false pursuits of wealth or honours; but enough to raise my drooping friends, preventing modest want that dares not ask. and if to crown my joys, _ ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks, blooms in my life's decline; fields, woods, and streams, each towering hill, each humble vale below, shall hear my cheering voice, my hounds shall wake the lazy morn, and glad the horizon round. end of somerville's chase. [footnote : in republishing only the "chase" of somerville and "the fables" of gay, we have acted on the principle of selecting the best, and the most characteristic, in our age, perhaps the only readable specimen of either poet.] [footnote : 'great prince:' prince frederick. our readers will remember the humorous epitaph on him, in edifying contrast to somerville's praise:-- 'here lies fred, who was alive, and is dead: if it had been his father, i'd much rather; had it been his mother, better than another; were it his sister, nobody would have miss'd her; were it the whole generation, the better for the nation. but since it's only fred, there's no more to be said, but that he was alive, and is dead.' we quote this from recollection of thackeray's recitation, but think it pretty accurate.] [footnote : 'neustria:' normandy.] [footnote : 'fountain of light,' &c. scott as well as somerville loved to write in brilliant sunshine.] [footnote : 'talbot kind:' derived, we think, from the famous john talbot, the first earl of shrewsbury, who employed this species of hound against the irish rebels.] [footnote : 'aurengzebe:' in , seized the throne of india, after murdering his relatives, but became a good, wise, and brave emperor.] [footnote : 'ammon's son:' alexander the great.] [footnote : 'blooming youth:' fred again.] [footnote : 'apulia:' now puglia, the south-eastern part of italy.] note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) transcriber's note: text in italics is surrounded by _underscores_. text in large bold font is surrounded by =equals=. superscripted characters are shown as {^x} with "x" representing the superscripted letter. a broken bar character "¦" has been used in place of the feminine caesura, which resembles a vertical ellipsis "...". [+!] is used for the stress syllable symbol, which resembles an upside-down subscripted capitol v. footnotes have been moved collectively to the chapter ends. anchors and footnotes have been renumbered sequentially. detailed notes about spelling variations, and other transcriber notes are located at the end of this e-text. [illustration: by permission of the right hon. lord sackville, g. c. m. g. portrait of francis beaumont from the original painting at knole park] francis beaumont: dramatist a portrait with some account of his circle, elizabethan and jacobean, and of his association with john fletcher by charles mills gayley, litt.d., ll.d. _professor of the english language and literature in the university of california_ [illustration: desormais] london duckworth & co. henrietta street, covent garden copyright, , by the century co. published, february, to my wife preface in this period of resurgent dramatic creativity when once more the literature of the stage enthralls the public and commands the publisher, it is but natural that playwright, play-lover, and scholar alike should turn with renewed and enlightened interest to the models afforded by our elizabethan masters of the age of gold, to the circumstances of their production and the lives of their imperishable authors. very close to shakespeare stood beaumont and fletcher; but, though during the past three centuries books about shakespeare have been as legion and studies of the "twin literary heroes" have run into the hundreds, to fletcher as an individual but one book has been devoted, and to beaumont but one. a portrait of either beaumont or fletcher demands indeed as its counterpart, painted by the same brush and with alternating strokes, a portrait of his literary partner and friend. but in spirit and in favour the twain are distinct. in this book i have tried to present the poetic and compelling personality of francis beaumont not only as conjoined with, and distinguished from, the personality of fletcher, but as seen against the background of historic antecedents and family connections and as tinged by the atmosphere of contemporary life, of social, literary, and theatrical environment. no doubt the picture has its imperfections, but the criticism of those who know will assist one whose only desire is to do beaumont justice. i take pleasure in expressing my indebtedness to the authorities of the bodleian library and the british museum, to those of the national portrait gallery (especially mr. j. d. milner), to our own librarian of the university of california, mr. j. c. rowell, for unfailing courtesy during the years in which this volume has been in preparation; to mr. j. c. schwab, librarian of yale university, for the loan of rare and indispensable sources of information, and to my colleague, professor rudolph schevill, for reading proof-sheets and giving me many a scholarly suggestion. i deplore my inability to include among the illustrations carefully made by emery walker, of clifford's inn, a copy of the portrait of beaumont's friend, elizabeth, countess of rutland, which hangs at penshurst. on account of the recent attempt to destroy by fire that time-honored repository of heirlooms as precious to the realm as to the family of sidney, the lord de l'isle and dudley has found it necessary to close his house to the public. charles mills gayley. berkeley, california, december , . contents part one beaumont's life, his acquaintances, and his career as poet and dramatist chapter page i the castor and pollux of elizabethan drama ii beaumont's family; his early years: grace-dieu, oxford iii at the inns of court and chancery; the poems assigned to these earlier years iv the vaux cousins and the gunpowder plot v fletcher's family, and his youth vi some early plays of beaumont and of fletcher vii the "banke-side" and the period of the partnership viii relations with shakespeare, jonson, and others in the theatrical world ix the "masque of the inner temple": the pastoralists, and other contemporaries at the inns of court x an intersecting circle of jovial sort xi beaumont and sir philip sidney's daughter; relations with other persons of note xii beaumont's marriage and death; the surviving family xiii the personality, and the contemporary reputation of beaumont xiv tradition, and traditional criticism xv a few words of fletcher's later years part two the collaboration of beaumont and fletcher chapter page xvi statement of the problem; critical apparatus xvii the delimitation of the field xviii the versification of fletcher and of beaumont xix fletcher's diction xx fletcher's mental habit xxi beaumont's diction xxii beaumont's mental habit xxiii the authorship of three disputed plays xxiv "the woman-hater," and "the knight" xxv the five central plays xxvi the last play xxvii the dramatic art, principally of beaumont xxviii did the beaumont "romance" influence shakespeare? xxix conclusion appendix table a " b " c " d " e index list of illustrations portrait of francis beaumont _frontispiece_ facing page the ruins of grace-dieu nunnery ruins of grace-dieu a priory, ulveston, extant in thomas sackville, first earl of dorset the temple the globe theatre, with st. paul's in the background ben jonson francis bacon george villiers, first duke of buckingham, and family john selden the beaumont of the nuneham portrait michael drayton john fletcher john earle, bishop of worcester and salisbury don diego sarmiento, count gondomar beaumont, the dramatist part one beaumont's life, his acquaintances, and his career as poet and dramatist. beaumont, the dramatist chapter i the castor and pollux of elizabethan drama "among those of our dramatists who either were contemporaries of shakespeare or came after him, it would be impossible to name more than three to whom the predilection or the literary judgment of any period of our national life has attempted to assign an equal rank by his side. in the argo of the elizabethan drama--as it presents itself to the imagination of our own latter days--shakespeare's is and must remain the commanding figure. next to him sit the twin literary heroes, beaumont and fletcher, more or less vaguely supposed to be inseparable from one another in their works. the herculean form of jonson takes a somewhat disputed precedence among the other princes; the rest of these are, as a rule, but dimly distinguished." so, with just appreciation, our senior historian of the english drama, to-day, the scholarly master of peterhouse. sir adolphus ward himself has, by availing of the inductive processes of the inventive and indefatigable fleay and his successors in separative criticism, contributed not a little to a discrimination between the respective efforts of the "twin literary heroes" who sit next jason; and who are "beyond dispute more attractive by the beauty of their creations than any and every one of shakespeare's fellow-dramatists." but even he doubts whether "the most successful series of endeavours to distinguish fletcher's hand from beaumont's is likely to have the further result of enabling us to distinguish the mind of either from that of his friend." just this endeavour to distinguish not only hand from hand, but mind from mind, is what i have had the temerity to attempt. and still not, by any means, a barefaced temerity, for my attempt at first was merely to fix anew the place of the joint-authors in the history of english comedy; and it has been but imperceptibly that the fascination of the younger of them, of frank beaumont, the personality of his mind as well as of his art, has so grown upon me as to compel me to set him before the world as he appears to me to be clearly visible. in broad outline the figure of beaumont has been, of course, manifest to the vision of poet-critics in the past. to none more palpably than to the latest of the melodious immortals of the victorian strain. "if a distinction must be made," wrote swinburne as early as , "if a distinction must be made between the dioscuri of english poetry, we must admit that beaumont was the twin of heavenlier birth. only as pollux was on one side a demigod of diviner blood than castor can it be said that on any side beaumont was a poet of higher and purer genius than fletcher; but so much must be allowed by all who have eyes and ears to discern in the fabric of their common work a distinction without a difference. few things are stranger than the avowal of so great and exquisite a critic as coleridge, that he could trace no faintest line of demarcation between the plays which we owe mainly to beaumont and the plays which we owe solely to fletcher. to others this line has always appeared in almost every case unmistakable. were it as hard and broad as the line which marks off, for example, shakespeare's part from fletcher's in _the two noble kinsmen_, the harmony would of course be lost which now informs every work of their common genius.... in the plays which we know by evidence surer than the most trustworthy tradition to be the common work of beaumont and fletcher there is indeed no trace of such incongruous and incompatible admixture as leaves the greatest example of romantic tragedy ... an unique instance of glorious imperfection, a hybrid of heavenly and other than heavenly breed, disproportioned and divine. but throughout these noblest of the works inscribed generally with the names of both dramatists we trace on every other page the touch of a surer hand, we hear at every turn the note of a deeper voice, than we can ever recognize in the work of fletcher alone. although the beloved friend of jonson, and in the field of comedy his loving and studious disciple, yet in that tragic field where his freshest bays were gathered beaumont was the worthiest and the closest follower of shakespeare.... the general style of his tragic or romantic verse is as simple and severe in its purity of note and regularity of outline as that of fletcher's is by comparison lax, effusive, exuberant.... in every one of the plays common to both, the real difficulty for a critic is not to trace the hand of beaumont, but to detect the touch of fletcher. throughout the better part of every such play, and above all of their two masterpieces, _philaster_ and _the maid's tragedy_, it should be clear to the most sluggish or cursory of readers that he has not to do with the author of _valentinian_ [fletcher] and _the double marriage_ [fletcher and massinger]. in those admirable tragedies the style is looser, more fluid, more feminine.... but in those tragic poems of which the dominant note is the note of beaumont's genius a subtler chord of thought is sounded, a deeper key of emotion is touched, than ever was struck by fletcher. the lighter genius is palpably subordinate to the stronger, and loyally submits itself to the impression of a loftier spirit. it is true that this distinction is never grave enough to produce a discord; it is also true that the plays in which the predominance of beaumont's mind and style is generally perceptible make up altogether but a small section of the work that bears their names conjointly; but it is no less true that within this section the most precious part of that work is comprised." the essay in which this noble estimate of beaumont occurs remains indeed "the classical modern criticism of beaumont and fletcher," and although recent research has resulted in "variety of opinion concerning the precise authorship of some of the plays commonly attributed to those writers" its value is substantially unaffected. the figure as revealed in glorious proportions to the penetrative imagination and the sympathy of poetic kinship, remains, but by the patient processes of scientific research the outlines have been more sharply defined and the very lineaments of beaumont's countenance and of fletcher's, too, brought, i think, distinctly before us. though swinburne attributes, almost aright, to beaumont alone one play, _the woman-hater_, and ascribes to him the predominance in, and the better portions of _philaster_ and _the maid's tragedy_, and the high interest and graduated action of the serious part of _a king and no king_, and also justly associates him with fletcher in the composition of _the scornful lady_, and gives him alone "the admirable study of the worthy citizen and his wife who introduced to the stage and escort with their applause _the knight of the burning pestle_," and implies his predominance in that play, he does not enumerate for us the acts and scenes and parts of scenes which are beaumont's or fletcher's, or beaumont's revised by fletcher, in any of these plays; and consequently he points us to no specific lines of poetic inspiration, no movements distinctively conceived by either dramatist and shaped by his dramatic pressure, no touchstone by which the average reader may verify for himself that "to beaumont his stars had given as birthright the gifts of tragic pathos and passion, of tender power and broad strong humour," and that "to fletcher had been allotted a more fiery and fruitful force of invention, a more aerial ease and swiftness of action, a more various readiness and fullness of bright exuberant speech." though he is right in discerning in the homelier emotion and pathetic interest of _the coxcombe_, and of _cupid's revenge_ the note of beaumont's manner, he couples with the former _the honest man's fortune_ in which it is more than doubtful whether beaumont had any share. to speak of arbaces in _a king and no king_ as beaumont's, is mainly right, but not wholly, and to assign to him the keen prosaic humour of bessus and his swordsmen, is to assign precisely the scenes that he did not compose. to speak of beaumont's _triumph of love_ is perhaps defensible; but, with grave reluctance, we now question the attribution. he is justified in withdrawing "the noble tragedy of _thierry and theodoret_" from the field of beaumont's coöperation and ascribing it to fletcher and massinger; but he is undoubtedly wrong when he fails to couple the latter's name with that of fletcher as author of _valentinian_. writing as swinburne did after a study of fleay's first investigations into the versification of fletcher, beaumont, and massinger, the wonder is not that once or twice, as a critic, he makes an incorrect attribution, but that his poetic instinct so successfully defied the temptation to enumerate in detail the respective contributions of beaumont and fletcher on the basis of metrical tests _par excellence_,--so surprisingly novel and seductively convincing were the tests then recently formulated. swinburne's mistakes are of sane omission rather than of supererogation. by his judgments as a critic one can not always swear; but here he is, in the main, marvelously right, and a thousand times rather to be followed than some of the successors of fleay who have swamped the personality of beaumont by heaping on him, foundered, sods from a dozen turf-stacks which he never helped to build. but the _chorizontes_--those who would separate every scene and line of the one genius from those of the other--are not lightly to be spoken of. it is only by combining their methods of analysis with the intuitions of the poet-critics that one may hope to see frank beaumont plain: "the worthiest and closest follower of shakespeare in the tragic field; the earliest as well as ablest disciple of ben jonson in pure comedy, varied with broad farce and mock-heroic parody." the labour is well bestowed if by its means lovers of poetry and the drama, while not ceasing to admire the elder dramatist, fletcher, may be led to accede at last to the younger his due and undivided honour, may come to speak of him by unhyphenated name--a personality of passion and of fire, a gracious power in poetry, of effulgent dramatic creativity;--if, like the ancients, they may protest occasionally in the name of pollux alone. chapter ii beaumont's family; his early years: grace-dieu, oxford francis beaumont, the dramatist, came of the younger line of an ancient and distinguished family of anglo-norman descent in which there had been barons de beaumont from the beginning of the fourteenth to the beginning of the sixteenth century. they lived, as did the dramatist later, in the forest of charnwood in leicestershire,--part of the old forest of arden. and it is of a ride to their family seat that john leland, the antiquary, speaks when in his itinerary, written between and , he says: "from leicester to brodegate, by ground well wooded three miles.... from brodegate to loughborough about a five miles.... first, i came out of brodegate park into the forest of charnwood, commonly called the waste. this great forest is a twenty miles or more in compass, having plenty of wood.... in this forest is no good town nor scant a village; ashby-de-la-zouche, a market town and other villages on the very borders of it.... riding a little further i left the park of beau manor, closed with stone walls and a pretty lodge in it, belonging of late to beaumonts.... there is a fair quarry of alabaster stone about a four miles from leicester, and not very far from beau manor.[ ]... there was, since the bellemonts [beaumonts], earls of warwick, a baron [at beaumanoir] of great lands of that name; and the last of them in king henry the seventh's time was a man of simple wit. his wife was after married to the earl of oxford."[ ] these barons "of great lands," living in charnwood forest,--where, as another old writer tells us, "a wren and a squirrel might hop from tree to tree for six miles; and in summer time a traveler could journey from beaumanoir to burden, a good twelve miles, without seeing the sun,"--these barons are the de beaumonts, from the fourth of whom, john, lord beaumont, who died in , our dramatist was descended. the barony ran from father to son for six generations of alternating henries and johns, _c._ to . john, fourth baron; was grandson of alianor, daughter of henry, earl of lancaster, and so descended from henry iii and the first kings of the house of plantagenet. the second baron, husband of alianor of lancaster, was through his mother, alice comyn, descended from the scotch earls of buchan, and thus connected with the balliols and the royal house of scotland; through his father, henry, the first baron de beaumont, who died in , he was great-grandson of john de brienne, titular king of jerusalem, - .[ ] in a quaint tetrastich in the church of barton-upon-humber, the memory of these alliances is thus preserved: rex hierosolymus cum bellomonte locatur, bellus mons etiam cum baghan consociatur, bellus mons iterum longicastro religatur, bellus mons ... oxonie titulatur.[ ] the sixth baron became, in , the first viscount of english creation; he married a granddaughter of the lord bardolph of shakespeare's _ henry iv_; but with his son "of simple wit," who died in , the viscounty died out. beaumanoir to the east of charnwood is seven miles north of leicester and nine from coleorton where, west of the forest, an older branch of the beaumont family of which we shall hear, later, continued to live and is living to-day; and the old barony was revived, in , in a descendant of the female line, miles thomas stapleton, as ninth baron beaumont. the grandfather of the dramatist, john beaumont, was in the third generation from sir thomas beaumont, the younger son of the fourth lord beaumont. john evidently had to make his way before he could establish himself near the old home in leicestershire; but he must have had some competence and position from the first, for he was admitted early, in the reign of henry viii, a member of the inner temple; in and he performed the learned and expensive functions of reader, or exponent of the law in that society, and later was elected treasurer or presiding officer of the house. he started brilliantly in his profession. in he was counsellor for the corporation of leicester; and, by , he had means or influence sufficient to secure for himself the old nunnery of grace-dieu in charnwood forest, which, as an ecclesiastical commissioner he had four years earlier helped to suppress. that he entered into possession, however, only with difficulty, is manifest from a letter which he wrote in to lord cromwell, enclosing £ as a present and beseeching his lordship's intercession with the king that he may be confirmed in his ownership of the "demenez" as against the cupidity of george, first earl of huntingdon, who "doth labour to take the seyd abbey ffrom me; ... for i do ffeyre the seyd erle and hys sonnes do seeke my lyffe."[ ] he occupied various important legal and administrative positions in the county, and, shortly before the death of edward vi, was appointed to the high office of master of the rolls, or judge of the court of appeal. a year or two later, however, early in , he was removed from his seat on the bench, for defalcation and other flagrant breach of trust. he was imprisoned and fined in all his property, and died the next year. his vast estates were bestowed on francis, earl of huntingdon, by edward vi, but soon afterward, as a result of legal manoeuvre and by the assistance of that earl and his eldest son, the widow of the master of the rolls contrived to retain the manor of grace-dieu; and it long continued to be the country seat of the beaumonts.[ ] this prudent, strenuous, and high-born lady, elizabeth hastings, was the daughter of sir william hastings, a younger son of the incorruptible william, lord hastings, whom in richard of gloucester had decapitated. her grandmother, catherine nevil, was daughter to the earl of salisbury, who died at pomfret, and sister to richard, earl of warwick, the king-maker. elizabeth's aunt, anne hastings, was the wife of george talbot, fourth earl of shrewsbury, and her uncle, edward, was the second lord hastings. edward's children, our elizabeth's first cousins, were anne, countess to thomas stanley, second earl of derby, and that george, first earl of huntingdon, whom, with certain of his five sons, the master of grace-dieu "ffeyred."[ ] we may conjecture that the feud expired with the marriage of elizabeth hastings and john beaumont, or with the death of the first earl in ; and that the policy of his successors, francis and henry, in securing to the huntingdon family the reversion of the forfeited estates of the master of the rolls and, later, releasing a portion of them to elizabeth, was dictated by cousinly affection. the great francis, second earl of huntingdon, lived in the castle of ashby-de-la-zouch, about an hour's walk from mistress beaumont's, and had, in , allied himself to royalty by marrying katherine pole, niece of the cardinal, and great-granddaughter of that george, duke of clarence (brother to edward iv), who was "pack'd with post-horse up to heaven" by the cacodemon of gloucester. when edward vi died, francis declared for lady jane grey and was for a time imprisoned. his daughter was the beautiful lady mary hastings who, being of the blood royal, was wooed for the czar, and might have been "empress of muscovy" had she pleased. from the huntingdon family elizabeth hastings introduced at least one new christian name into that of the beaumonts. for the second earl, she named her oldest son francis. one of her daughters, elizabeth, became the wife of william, third lord vaux of harrowden, in the adjoining county of northampton; and thus our dramatist, through his aunt, was connected with another of the proudest norman families of england,--one of the most devoted to the catholic faith and, as we shall see, active in jesuit interests that during the dramatist's life in london assumed momentous political proportions. aunt elizabeth, lady vaux, died before our frank beaumont was born; and her son henry died when frank was but ten years of age,--but in an entry in the state papers of concerning "the entail of lord vaux's estates on his children by his first wife [john] beaumont's daughter,"[ ] several "daughters" are mentioned. these, his cousins of harrowden, frank knew from his youth up. in all england was to be ringing with their names. john and elizabeth were succeeded at grace-dieu by their son, francis. he was a student at peterhouse, cambridge; afterwards, at the inner temple, where like his father before him, he proceeded reader and bencher. in he sat in parliament as member for aldborough; in he was made sergeant-at-law; and in was appointed one of the queen's justices of the court of common pleas. his method of trying a case, technical and merciless, may be studied in the minutes of the lent assizes of at which the unfortunate jesuit priest, henry walpole, was sentenced to death for returning to england.[ ] his career on the bench was both successful and honourable; and he is described by a contemporary, william burton, the author of the _description of leicestershire_, as a "grave, learned, and reverend judge." he married anne, the daughter of a nottinghamshire knight, sir george pierrepoint of holme-pierrepoint; and their children were henry, born ; john, born about ; francis, the subject of this study, born in or ; and elizabeth, some four years younger than francis.[ ] that we know nothing of the life or personality of this mother of poets, is a source of regret. her family, however, was of a notable stock possessed, immediately after the conquest, of lands in sussex under earl warren. their estate of holme-pierrepoint in nottinghamshire they had inherited from michael de manvers during the reign of edward i. anne's ancestors had been knights banneret, and of the carpet and the sword, for generations. her brother, sir henry pierrepoint, born , married frances, the eldest daughter of the sir william cavendish who began the building of chatsworth, and his redoubtable lady, bess of hardwick, who finished it. this aunt of the young beaumonts of grace-dieu, lady pierrepoint, was sister to william cavendish, first earl of devonshire in and forefather of the present dukes,--to henry cavendish, the friend of mary, queen of scots, and son-in-law of her kindly custodian, george talbot, sixth earl of shrewsbury,--to sir charles cavendish, whose son, william, became earl, and then duke of newcastle,--to elizabeth cavendish, countess of lennox, the wife of henry darnley's brother, charles stuart, and the mother of james i's hapless cousin, lady arabella stuart,--and to mary cavendish, countess of shrewsbury, wife of gilbert, seventh earl. the son of sir henry and lady pierrepoint, robert, born in the same year as his cousin, francis beaumont, the dramatist, married a daughter of the talbots, became in due time viscount newark and earl of kingston, and was killed in during the civil war. from him descended marquises of dorchester and dukes of kingston, and the earls manvers of the present time. through their mother, anne pierrepoint, the beaumont children of grace-dieu were, accordingly, connected with several of the most influential noble families of england and scotland; and in their comradeship with the cousins of holme-pierrepoint they would, as of the common kin, be thrown into familiar acquaintance with the children of the various branches of these and other houses that i might mention.[ ] holme-pierrepoint is seventeen miles northeast of grace-dieu, near the city of nottingham, in the red sand-stone country along the river trent. the park is but a two or three hours' drive from charnwood, and the old house to which anne used to take her children to see their grandparents still stands, altered only in part from what it was in . it belongs to the earl manvers of to-day. in the church is the tomb of the poet's uncle, sir henry pierrepoint, who died the year before francis. since no entry of francis' baptism has been discovered it is uncertain whether he was born at grace-dieu. the probabilities are, however, in favour of that birth-place, since his father was not continuously occupied in london until a later date. as to the exact year of his birth, there is also uncertainty but i think that the records indicate . the matriculation entry in the registers of oxford university describes him as twelve years of age at the time of his admission, february , (new style), which would establish the date of his birth between february and february . the funeral certificate issued at the time of his father's death, april , , speaks of the other children, henry, john, and elizabeth as, respectively, seventeen, fourteen, and nine, years of age, "_or thereaboutes_"; but of francis as "of thirteen yeares _or more_." justice beaumont was a squire of considerable means. when, in , he qualified himself to be bencher by lecturing at the inner temple upon some statute or section of a statute for the space of three weeks and three days, his expenses for the entertainment at table or in revels, alone, must have run to about £ , in the money of to-day. he held at the time of his death landed estates in some ten parishes of leicestershire, between sheepshead on the east and and coleorton three miles away on the west, and scattered over some seven miles north and south between belton and normanton. in derby, too, he had two or three fine manors. his will shows that he was able to make generous provision for many of his "ould and faythefull servauntes," besides bequeathing specifically a handsome sum in money to his daughter elizabeth. he was a considerate and careful man, too, for the morning of his death he added a codicil to his will: "i have left somewhat oute of my will which is this, i will that my daughter elizabeth have all the jewells that were her mother's." his sons are not mentioned, for naturally the heir, henry, would make provision for john and francis.[ ] his chief executor was henry beaumont of coleorton, his kinsman,--worth mentioning here; for at coleorton another cousin, maria beaumont, the mother of the great duke of buckingham, had till recently lived as a waiting gentlewoman in the household. grace-dieu where the youth of these children was principally spent, was "beautifully situated in what was formerly one of the most recluse spots in the centre of charnwood forest," within a little distance of the turn-pike road that leads from ashby-de-la-zouch to loughborough. it lies low in a valley, near the river soar. in his _two bookes of epigrammes and epitaphs_, , thomas bancroft gives us a picture of the spot: grace-dieu, that under charnwood stand'st alone, as a grand relicke of religion, i reverence thine old, but fruitfull, worth, that lately brought such noble beaumonts forth, whose brave heroicke muses might aspire to match the anthems of the heavenly quire: the mountaines crown'd with rockey fortresses, and sheltering woods, secure thy happiness that highly favour'd art (tho' lowly placed) of heaven, and with free nature's bounty graced. and still another picture of it is painted, a hundred and seventy years later by wordsworth, the friend of the sir george beaumont who in his day was possessed of the old family seat of coleorton hall, within half an hour's walk of grace-dieu:-- beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound, rugged and high, of charnwood's forest ground stand yet, but, stranger! hidden from thy view, the ivied ruins of forlorn grace-dieu,-- erst a religious house, which day and night with hymns resounded, and the chanted rite: and when those rites had ceased, the spot gave birth to honourable men of various worth: there, on the margin of a streamlet wild, did francis beaumont sport, an eager child: there, under shadow of the neighboring rocks, sang youthful tales of shepherds and their flocks; unconscious prelude to heroic themes, heart-breaking tears, and melancholy dreams of slighted love, and scorn, and jealous rage, with which his genius shook the buskined stage. communities are lost, and empires die, and things of holy use unhallowed lie; they perish;--but the intellect can raise, from airy words alone, a pile that ne'er decays.[ ] so far as the "youthful tales of shepherds" go, wordsworth is probably thinking of the verses of francis' brother, sir john, which open: a shepherdess, who long had kept her flocks on stony charnwood's dry and barren rocks,-- written long after both brothers had left boyhood behind; indeed after francis was dead; or he is attributing to our beaumont a share in fletcher's _faithfull shepheardesse_. francis, himself, has given us nothing of the pastoral vein, save sweet snatches in the dramas "with which his genius shook the buskined stage." there is no doubt that from childhood up, the brothers and, as i shall later show, their sister elizabeth breathed an atmosphere of literature and national life. at an early age john was sufficiently confessed a versifier to be assigned the prelude to one of the nobly patronized michael drayton's _divine poems_, and there is fair reason for believing that the younger brother francis was writing and publishing verses in , when he was barely eighteen years of age. their father was going to and fro among the great in london who made affairs. the country-side all about them was replete with historic memories and inspirations to poetry. in the grey friars' at leicester, eleven miles south-east, simon de montfort allied by marriage to the first anglo-norman de beaumonts, earls of leicester, lay buried. there, too, until his ashes were scattered on the waters of the soar, king richard the third. in the blue boar inn of that "toune,"--in our young beaumont's day, all "builded of tymbre,"--this last of the plantagenets had spent the night before the battle of bosworth. the field itself on which the battle was fought lies but eight miles west of leicester and about nine south of grace-dieu. no wonder that francis beaumont's brother john in after days chose bosworth field as the subject of an heroic poem: the winter's storme of civill warre i sing, whose end is crown'd with our eternall spring; where roses joyn'd, their colours mixe in one, and armies fight no more for england's throne. the beaumonts were living in the centre of the counties most engaged. three of their predecessors had fallen fighting for the red rose, john beaumont of coleorton and john, viscount beaumont, at northampton in , and a henry beaumont at towton in . in his description of the battle, john introduces by way of simile a reference to what may have been a familiar scene about grace-dieu: here stanley and brave lovell trie their strength.... so meete two bulls upon adjoyning hills of rocky charnwood, while their murmur fills the hollow crags, when striving for their bounds, they wash their piercing homes in mutuall wounds. lovell, himself, was a beaumont on the mother's side. and the poet takes occasion to pay tribute, also, to his own most famous ancestor on the grandmother's side, the "noble hastings," first baron, whose cruel execution in _richard iii_, shakespeare had dramatized more than twenty years before john wrote. [illustration: steel engraving by w. finden the ruins of grace-dieu nunnery] just south of charnwood forest stood, in the day of john and francis, the manor house in bradgate park where lady jane grey was born, and where she lived from to while she was being educated by her ambitious father and mother, the marquis and marchioness of dorset, "to occupy the towering position they felt assured she would sooner or later be called to fill"--that of protestant queen of england. here it was that roger ascham, as he tells us in his _schoolmaster_, after inquiring for the lady jane of the marquis and his lady who were out hunting in charnwood forest, came upon the twelve-year old princess in her closet "reading the _phædon_ of plato in greek, with as much delight as gentlemen read the merry tales of boccaccio." the grandmother of the young beaumonts, who was still alive in , may have lived long enough to take our francis on her knee and tell him of the hopes her protestant kinsmen of ashby-de-la-zouch had fixed upon the lady jane, and of how her cousin, the earl, francis of huntingdon, had been one of those who in royal council in june , abetted the dukes of northumberland and suffolk in the scheme to secure the succession of lady jane to the throne, and how, with these dukes and the archbishop of canterbury, and other lords and gentlemen (among them a certain sir john baker of sissinghurst, kent, whose family later appears in this narrative), he had signed the "devise" in accordance with which jane was proclaimed queen. and the old lady would with bated breath tell him of the cruel fate of that nine-days' queen. of how francis of huntingdon was sent to the tower with queen jane, she also would tell. but perhaps not much of how he shortly made his peace with queen mary, hunted down the dead jane's father, and brought him to the scaffold. and either their grandmother or their father, the judge, could tell them of the night in on which their cousin, henry, third earl of huntingdon, had entertained in the castle "rising on the very borders" of the forest to the east, mary, queen of scots, when she was on her way to her captivity in the house of another connection of theirs, henry cavendish, at tutbury in the county of stafford, just east of them. in the history of culture not only john and francis, but the beaumonts in general are illustrious. in various branches and for generations the poetic, scholarly, and artistic vein has persisted. john beaumont's son and heir, the second sir john, edited his father's poems, and lived to write memorial verses on ben jonson, and on edward king, milton's "lycidas"; and another son, francis, wrote verses. a relative and namesake of the dramatist's father,--afterwards master of charterhouse,--wrote an epistle prefixed to speght's _chaucer_, ; and still another more distant relative, dr. joseph, master of peterhouse, and author of the epic allegory, _psyche_, was one of the poetic imitators through whom spenser's influence was conveyed to milton. the sir george beaumont of wordsworth's day to whom reference has already been made was celebrated by that poet both as artist and patron of art. and, according to darley,[ ] lady mary wortley montagu was of the race and maiden name of our dramatist's mother, anne pierrepoint. from which coincidence one may, if he will, argue poetic blood on that side of the family, too; or from grosart's derivation of jonathan edwards from that family, polemic blood, as well. the three sons of justice beaumont of grace-dieu were entered on february , , at broadgates hall, now pembroke, which at that time was one of the most flourishing and fashionable institutions in oxford. these young gentlemen-commoners were evidently destined for the pursuit of the civil and common law, since, as dyce informs us, their hall was then the principal nursery for students of that discipline. but one cannot readily visualize young frank, not yet thirteen, or his brother john, a year or so older, devoting laborious hours to the _corpus juris_ in the library over the south aisle of st. aldate's church, or to their euclid, strabo, aristotle, cicero, quintilian. we see them, more probably, slipping across st. aldate's street to wolsey's gateway of christ church, and through the, then unfinished, great quadrangle, past wolsey's tower in the southeast corner, and, by what then served for the broad walk, to what now are called the magdalen college school cricket grounds, and so to some well-moored boat on the flooded meadows by the cherwell. and some days, they would have under arm or in pocket a tattered volume of ovid, preferably in translation,--turberville's _heroical epistles_, or golding's rendering of the _metamorphoses_,--or painter's _palace of pleasure_, or fenton's _tragical discourses_ out of bandello, dedicated to the sister of sir philip sidney--sir philip, whose daughter young francis should, one day, revere and celebrate in noble lines. or they would have harington's _orlando furioso_ to wonder upon; or some cheap copy of _amadis_ or _palmerin_ to waken laughter. and, other days, fresh quartos of _tamburlaine_ and _edward ii_ and _dido_, or kyd's _spanish tragedy_ and lyly's _gallathea_, or greene's _frier bacon_ and _james iv_, or shakespeare's _richard ii_, and _richard iii_, and _romeo and juliet_, and _love's labour's lost_. these, with alternate shuddering and admiring, mirth or tears, to declaim and in imagination re-enact. and certainly there would be mellow afternoons when the _songs and sonnettes_ known as _tottel's miscellany_ and _the paradyse of daynty devises_, with their poems of love and chivalry by thomas, lord vaux,--of which they had often heard from their cousins of harrowden,--and chapman's completion of _hero and leander_ or shakespeare's _venus and adonis_, and drayton's fantastic but graceful _endimion and phoebe_ would hold them till the shadows were well aslant, and the candles began to wink them back to the cardinal's quadrangle and the old refectory, beyond, of broadgates hall. for the char and the boats were there then, and all these el dorados of the mind were to be had in quarto or other form, and some of them were appearing first in print in the year when frank and his brothers entered oxford. [illustration: view taken by buck in ruins of grace-dieu note: after buck's time the ruins were "carried away to mend the roads." see john throsby, _select views of leicestershire_, vol. ii, .] [illustration: taken by buck a priory, ulveston, extant in ] we may be sure, that many a time these brothers and sworn friends in literature, and henry, too, loyal young elizabethans,--and with them, perhaps, their cousin, robert pierrepoint, who was then at oriel,--strolled northwest from the cherwell toward yarnton, and then woodstock with its wooded slopes, to see the island where queen elizabeth, when but princess, had been imprisoned for a twelvemonth, and, hearing a milk-maid singing, had sighed, "she would she were a milkmaid as she was"; and that they took note of fair rosamund's well and bower, too. they may have tramped or ridden onward north to banbury, and got there at the same cakeshop in parsons street the same cakes we get now. or, some happy michaelmas, they would have walked toward the fertile vale of evesham, north, first, toward warwickshire where at compton scorpion sir thomas overbury, the ill-fated friend of their future master, ben jonson, was born, and on by the village of quinton but six miles from shakespeare's stratford, toward mickleton and the malvern hills; and then, turning toward the cotswolds, to winchcombe with its ancient abbey and its orchards, to see just south of it sudely castle where henry viii's last wife, the divorced catherine parr, had lived and died,--where giles, third baron chandos, had entertained queen bess, and where in their time abode the lord william. with this family of brydges, barons chandos, the lads were acquainted, if not in at any rate after , when the fifth baron, grey, succeeded to the title. for, writing _teares_ on the death of that hospitable "king of the cotswolds," which occurred in , john beaumont describes him with the admiration begotten of long intimacy,--"the smoothnesse of his mind," "his wisdome and his happy parts," and "his sweet behaviour and discourse." or,--and how could any young oxonian fail of it?--they started from broadgates, down the high, crossed magdalen bridge, where the boats were lazily oaring below them, and set out for the climb to rose hill; then down by sleepy ways to littlemore, and to sandford; then up the two long sharp ascents to nuneham,--where now, in the fine old manor house, hangs frank's own portrait in oils,--one of the two contemporary likenesses of him that exist to-day. footnotes: [ ] leland's _itinerary_, ed. l. t. smith, vol. i, - . [ ] leland's _itinerary_, ed. l. t. smith, vol. iv, . [ ] collins, _peerage of england_, ix, . [ ] j. nichols, _collections toward the history of leicestershire_ (_biblioth. topogr. brit._, vii, ). see, below, appendix, a. [ ] _letters relating to the suppression of the monasteries_, pp. - , camden society, . the editor, thos. wright, describes the petitioner as of thringston, co. leicester. [ ] j. m. rigg, _dict. nat. biog._ art., _john beaumont_; and nichols's _history of leicestershire_, iii, ii, , _et seq._ [ ] collins, _peerage_, vi, , _et seq._; h. n. bell, _the huntingdon peerage_, . see also, below, appendix, table b. [ ] _calendar of state papers_ (_domestic_), , p. . [ ] challoner, _missionary priests_, i, . [ ] for the preceding details, and some of those which follow, see the respective articles in the _dictionary of national biography_; dyce's _works of beaumont and fletcher_, vol. i, _biographical memoir_; grosart, _sir john beaumont's poems_, and the sources as indicated. see also, below, appendix, table c. [ ] see shaw's _knights of england_; collins, _peerage_; and articles in _d. n. b._ under names. [ ] dyce says that the judge was knighted; so rigg (_d. n. b._) and others. the _inner temple records_ speak of him thirty times, but only once, nov. , , as "sir," though others in memoranda running to which mention him are given the title. in the codicil to his will he is plain "mr. beaumont"; and he is not included in shaw's _knights of england_. [ ] _for a seat in the groves of coleorton._ [ ] _works of b. and f._, xvi. chapter iii at the inns of court and chancery; the poems assigned to these earlier years. the career of the beaumonts at the university was shortened by the death of their father, some fourteen months after their admission. henry had been entered of the inner temple, november , , at his father's request. some say with john, but i do not find the latter in the records. francis may have remained at oxford until . on november of that year, he, also, was admitted a member of the inner temple, his two brothers acting as sponsors for him. we notice from the admission-book that he was matriculated _specialiter_, _gratis_, _comitive_,--because his father had been a bencher,--was excused from most of the ordinary duties and charges, and was permitted to take his meals and to lodge outside the inn of court itself. i gather that, like other young students at the time, he lodged and pursued his studies in one of the lesser inns, called inns of chancery, attached to the inner temple and under its supervision: clifford's inn across fleet street; or, across the strand, lyon's inn,--or, let us hope, by preference, clement's inn; where had lain jack falstaff in the days when he was "page to thomas mowbray, duke of norfolk," and was seen by lusty shallow to "break skogan's head at the court-gate when 'a was a crack not thus high;" where had boozed shallow himself and his four friends--"not four such swinge-bucklers in all the inns of court again"; and where, no doubt, they were talking in beaumont's day "of mad shallow yet." in , the inns of chancery lodged about a hundred students each, and served as preparatory schools for the inns of court. at one of these lesser inns[ ] beaumont would acquire some elementary knowledge of civil procedure by copying writs of the clerks of chancery, would listen to a reader sent over by the inner temple to lecture, and would be "bolted," or sifted, in the elements of law by the "inner" or junior barristers; and he would attend "moots" over which senior or "utter" barristers presided. at the end of about two years or earlier, if he proved a promising scholar, he would be transferred to the inn of court, itself. we may assume that about , beaumont would be sitting in clerks' commons in the hall of the inner temple. bread and beer for breakfast,--provided on only four days of the week. at o'clock he would be summoned to dinner by the blowing of a horn,--"thou horne of hunger that cal'st the inns a court to their manger." for his mess of meat,--in lent, fish,--on other occasions, loins of mutton, or beef,--he would make himself a trencher of bread. at or o'clock would come supper,--bread and beer again. after dinner, and again after supper, he would enjoy bolts and exercises conducted by the utter barristers, day in and day out through nearly the whole year. as he advanced in proficiency he would appear as a "moot-man" in the arguments presented before the benchers, or governing fellows, seated as judges. and perhaps he resigned himself, meanwhile, to the proper wear within the inn, which was cap and gown, "but the fashion was to wear hats, cloaks or coats, swords, rapiers, boots and spurs, large ruffs and long hair. even benchers were found to sit in term time with hats on."[ ] whether beaumont gave promise or not we are ignorant. the routine of the inn was impeccable; but students and benchers were not. there were not infrequently other exercises than "moots" after supper: cards and stage-plays, revels and sometimes riots. this much we know, that before young frank could have fulfilled his seven or more years as student and "moot-man," he was already in the rank of poets and dramatists. but, that by no means precludes his continuance for several years, perhaps till , in the juridical university, or his intimate association with and residence in the stately old quadrangles of what would be his college,--the inner temple. and for a young man of his temperament the atmosphere was as poetic as juridical. the young man's fancy was fired by the poetry and the drama that for centuries had enlivened the graver pursuits of the gothic halls that rose between fleet street and the thames, whitefriars and paget place,--"the noblest nurseries of humanity and liberty in the kingdom," as ben jonson calls them in his dedication[ ] to the inns of court of _every man out of his humour_, first published in the year when beaumont entered. according to aubrey, while the garden-wall of lincoln's inn, close by, was building, a bencher of that society "walking thro' and hearing" a young bricklayer "repeat some greek verses out of homer, discoursed with him, and finding him to have a witt extraordinary gave him some exhibition to maintaine him at trinity college, cambridge." that young bricklayer was, later, beaumont's friend and master, ben jonson. lincoln's inn had long been a nursing mother to dramatic effort. at the beginning of queen elizabeth's reign it was one of its members, richard edwardes, who, as master of the chapel children, produced the "tragicall comedie" _damon and pythias_, and the tragedy of _palamon and arcite_, to the great edification of the queen, and the permanent improvement of the senecan style of drama by the fusion of the ideal and the commonplace, of the romantic, the serious, and the humorous in an appeal to popular interest. "he was highly valued," this edwardes, "by those that knew him," says anthony wood, "especially his associates in lincoln's inn." and it was in the middle temple, just fourteen months after beaumont joined the inns of court, that manningham, one of the barristers, witnessed the performance for the reader's feast on candlemas day of shakespeare's _twelfth night_. if beaumont of the inner temple, within a stone's throw, did not hear more than the applause, he was not our frank beaumont. we may be sure that he had sauntered through the temple gardens many an afternoon, and knew the spot immortalized by marlowe and that same shakespeare, as the scene of the quarrel between plantagenet and somerset when the white and red roses were plucked, and that he would hear shakespeare when he could. but much as the middle temple and lincoln's favoured the drama and costly entertainments on the major feast-days, they were outdone in christmas revels and masques and plays by the closely affiliated societies of gray's inn and the inner temple. between these houses, says mr. douthwaite, the historian of the former, "there appears anciently to have existed a kindly union, which is shown by the fact that on the great gate of the gardens of the inner temple may be seen to this day [ ] the 'griffin' of gray's inn, whilst over the great gateway in gray's inn square is carved in bold relief the 'wingèd horse' of the inner temple." the two societies had long a custom of combining for the production of theatrical shows; and as we shall see, they combined some thirteen years after beaumont entered the inner temple in the production at court of one of the most glorious and expensive masques ever presented in london, beaumont's own masque for the wedding of the elector palatine and the princess elizabeth. they were influential as patrons of the early drama, and as producers of amateur dramatists. for centuries gray's inn had permitted "revels" after six o'clock supper of bread and beer; and when beaumont was of the inner temple close by, there was a grand week at gray's in every term. "they had revels and masques some of which," as a member of that society has recently said, "have never been forgotten, and i think cannot be forgotten while english history lasts."[ ] from a very early date, perhaps not long after the society was established in edward the third's reign in the old manor of portpool, "they were addicted at the christmas season to a great outburst of revelry of every kind. the revelings began at all hallows; at christmas a prince of portpoole was appointed; who was also lord of misrule, and he kept things gaily alive through christmas and until toward the end of january." these and other disguises, masques, and mummeries, are lineal descendants of the mummings of the ancient order of the coif, such as regaled king richard ii at christmas ; and, amalgamated with st. george plays and other folk-shows and even with sword-dances, they influenced the course of rural drama throughout the realm. it may be a bow drawn at a venture but i cannot withhold the suspicion that the lord of pool of the _revesby sword-play_ and of other popular compositions derives from the historic prince of misrule of the gray's inn christmas revels. it was george gascoigne of gray's inn who by a translation from ariosto introduced the renaissance treatment of the greek new comedy and the latin comedy into england with his _supposes_ in , and in the same year, with francis kinwelmersh, produced at gray's inn an english rendering of ludovico dolce's _giocasta_, a tragedy descended from euripides' _phoenissae_ by way of a latin version. "altogether," remarks professor cunliffe,[ ] "the play must have provided a gorgeous and exciting spectacle, and have produced an impression not unworthy of gray's inn, 'an house', the queen said on another occasion, 'she was much beholden unto, for that it did always study for some sports to present unto her.'" to this house and to gascoigne, shakespeare, too, was beholden, for from the _supposes_ proceeds more or less directly the minor plot of _the taming of the shrew_. in , gray's inn figures prominently again in the career of the pre-shakespearian drama, with the production by one of its gentlemen, thomas hughes, of a tragedy of english legend and senecan type, _the misfortunes of arthur_, played by the society before the queen at greenwich. and, in , gray's inn connects itself with the shakespearian drama directly by witnessing in the great hall in the christmas season a play called _a comedy of errors_, "like to plautus his _menaechmus_." it is diverting to note that on the eve of just that season of , a very pious woman, the second wife of sir nicholas bacon, and the mother of anthony and francis, is writing to the elder brother "i trust that they will not mum nor sinfully make revel at gray's inn." anthony was not a very strict puritan, francis still less so; and francis, who had been of gray's inn since , was, till his fall from power, the keenest devotee and most ardent and reckless promoter of masquing that gray's inn or, for that matter, england, had ever known. according to spedding,[ ] the speeches of the six councillors for the famous court of the prince of purpoole in were written by him and him alone. he furnished the money and much of the device for gorgeous masques before queen elizabeth; and under her successor he was prime mover in many a masque, like that of the _flowers_, presented by the gentlemen of gray's inn, in , which, alone, cost him about £ , as reckoned in the money of to-day. the masques by the four inns, in honour of the elector palatine's marriage, the year before, are said to have cost £ , ,--five hundred thousand dollars in the money of to-day! and it would appear that much of this expense was assumed by sir francis bacon, who in the years of his greatness as solicitor-general and attorney-general retained intimate relations with the life of gray's inn, and whom our beaumont during the years of studentship before , when the gallant sir walter raleigh was consigned to the tower, must many times have seen strolling with sir walter in the walks that bacon himself had laid out for his fellow-benchers of the inn. if beaumont's family had deliberately set about preparing him for his career of poet and dramatist, especially of dramatist who, with john fletcher, should vividly reproduce the life, manners and conversation of young men of fashion about town, they could not have placed him in a community more favourable to these ends than that of the inns of court. as the name itself implies the members were gentlemen of the court of the king. they must be "sons to persons of quality"; they must be trained to the possibility of appearance before the king at any time; they must be ready not merely as a privilege, but as a function, to entertain royalty upon summons. as gray's inn had its flavour of romance, its literary and dramatic history, its sidney, its bacon, its gascoigne; so also the "anciently allied house" of the inner temple. there lingered the tradition, to say the least, of chaucer's stirring poetry; there the spirit of sir francis drake,--stirring romances of the spanish main; there the memory of the christmas revels of at which was first acted the _gorboduc_ of thomas sackville (afterwards earl of dorset, and connected by marriage with the fletchers), and thomas norton,--whose "stately speeches and well sounding phrases, clyming to the height of seneca his stile," whose national quality, romantic illumination of classical form, impressive, and novel dramatic blank verse were to influence imperishably the course of elizabethan tragedy. there, too, had been produced, by five poets of the house, in , "the first english love-tragedy that has survived,"[ ] _gismond of salerne_, a distant but unmistakable forerunner in tempestuous passion and pathos of plays in which young beaumont was to compose the major part, _the maides tragedy_ and _a king and no king_. here, in the intervals between moots and bolts in the day time or during the long evenings about the central fire in hall or in chambers, a young man of poetic proclivities would find ample opportunity to indulge his genius. and, even after he ceased to be an inmate, the inner temple would still be for him a club, in which by the payment of a small annual fee he might retain membership for life. and membership in one 'college' of this pseudo-university implied an honorary 'freedom' of the others. beaumont would know not only william browne, the poet of the inner temple from on, and all browne's poetic fellows in that house, but browne's less poetic friend, christopher brooke, counsel for shakespeare's company of king's players, who earlier in the century had entered lincoln's inn; and, also, brooke's chamber-fellow, john donne, whose secret marriage with the daughter of the lieutenant of the tower, in , got the young scapegraces into jail. and at gray's inn beaumont would be even more at home. it was the 'house' of his kinsman, henry hastings of ashby,--in earl of huntingdon,--two years younger than frank, and admitted as early as ; and of robert pierrepoint, who had come down with frank from oxford and was entered of the inns at the same time; and, two years later, of robert's cousin, william cavendish, afterwards second earl of devonshire. * * * * * if we could be sure that a poem called _the metamorphosis of tabacco_, a mock-ovidian poem of graceful style and more than ordinary wit, published in , and ascribed by some one writing in a contemporary hand upon the title-page, to john beaumont, was john's we might regard the half dozen verses in praise of "thy pleasing rime," signed f. b., and beginning, my new-borne muse assaies her tender wing, and where she should crie, is inforst to sing,-- as young francis' earliest effort in rhyme. the dedication of the _metamorphosis_ to "my loving friend, master michael drayton," favours the conjectured composition by john, for he is writing other complimentary poems to drayton in the years immediately following . but, though f. b.'s lines prefatory to the _metamorphosis_ are not unworthy of a fanciful youngster, they are negligible; as is the evidence of their authorship. certain flimsy love-poems included in a volume published forty years later, twenty-four years after beaumont's death, as of his composition, have also been attributed to his boyhood at the university, or at the inner temple. most of them have been definitely traced to other authors, and of the rest of this class still unassigned there is no reason to believe that he was the author. in the same volume, however, there appears as by beaumont a metrical tale based upon ovid, called _salmacis and hermaphroditus_, of which we cannot be certain that he was not the author. the poem was first published, without name of writer, in ,[ ] and was not assigned to francis beaumont until , when lawrence blaiklock included it among the _poems_: by francis beaumont, gent., entered on the stationers' registers, september , and published, . blaiklock evidently printed from john hodgets's edition of , carelessly omitting here and there a line, and introducing absurd typographical mistakes. either because he had private information that beaumont was the author, or because he wished to profit by beaumont's reputation, he goes so far as to sign the initials, f. b., to the verse dedication, _to calliope_, and to alter the signature, a. f., appended to an introductory sonnet, _to the author_, so as to read i. f. (suggesting john fletcher). these licenses, in addition to the reckless inclusion in the volume of several poems by authors other than beaumont, vitiate blaiklock's evidence. on the other hand, the original publisher, hodgets, was the publisher also, in , of _the woman-hater_, a play now reasonably accepted as by beaumont, originally alone; and, in hodgets's edition of the _salmacis and hermaphroditus_, one of the introductory sonnets is signed j. b., and another w. b. the 'j. b.' sonnet is not unworthy of beaumont's brother john. and if the w. b. of the other verses, _in laudem authoris_, is william basse,--who in a sonnet, written after beaumont's death, speaks of him as "rare beaumont,"--there is further justification for entertaining the possibility of beaumont's authorship of the _salmacis_. for basse was one of the group of pastoralists to which francis' friend drayton, and drayton's friend, william browne, belonged,--a group with which francis must have been acquainted. but of that we shall have more to say when we come to consider beaumont's later connection with drayton, and with the dramatic activities of the inner temple at a time when browne and other pastoralists were members of it. for the present it is sufficient to say that basse was himself issuing a pastoral romance in the year of _salmacis_, ; and that he was by way of subscribing himself simply w. b. the external evidence for beaumont's authorship of this metrical tale is, at the best, but slight. as regards the internal, however, i cannot agree with fleay and the author of the article entitled _salmacis and hermaphroditus not by beaumont_.[ ] both diction and verse display characteristics not foreign to beaumont's heroic couplets in epistle and elegy, nor to the blank verse of his dramas,--though they do not markedly distinguish them. the romantic-classical and idyllic grace may be the germ of that which flowers in the tragicomedies; and the joyous irony is not unlike that of _the woman-hater_ and _the knight of the burning pestle_. the poem is a voluptuous and rambling expansion of the classical theme "which sweet-lipt ovid long agoe did tell." the writer, like many a lad of , has steeped himself in the amatory fable and fancy of marlowe, chapman, and shakespeare; and the passionate imaginings are such as characterize poetic lads of seventeen in any period. it is not impossible that here we have francis beaumont's earliest attempt at a poem of some proportions, and that he was stirred to it by exercises like _the endimion and phoebe_ of drayton, probably by that time the friend of the grace-dieu family. francis, indeed, need not have been ashamed of such a performance, for in spite of the erotic fervour and the occasional far-fetched conceits, the poet has visualized clearly the scenes of his mythological idyl, and enlivened the narrative with ingenuous humour; he has caught the figured style and something of the winged movement of his masters; and every here and there he has produced lines of more than imitative beauty: looke how, when autumne comes, a little space paleth the red blush of the summer's face, searing the leaves, the summer's covering, three months in weaving by the curious spring,-- making the grasse, his greene locks, go to wracke, tearing each ornament from off his backe; so did she spoyle the garments she did weare, tearing whole ounces of her golden hayre. the earliest definite indication that i have found of beaumont's literary activity, and of his recognition by poets, connects him with his brother john, and is highly suggestive in still other respects. john had already written, in or , verses prefatory to drayton's poetic treatment of _moyses in a map of his miracles_, published in june of the latter year; and also, in , to drayton's revision of the _barrons wars_. on april , , drayton issued a volume entitled _poems lyrick and pastoral_, which included with other verses a revision, under the name of _eglogs_, of his _idea, the shepheard's garland_, first published in . in the eighth eclogue of this new edition, drayton, writing of the ladies of his time to whom "much the muses owe," adds to his praise of sidney's (elphin's) sister mary, countess of pembroke, an encomium upon the two daughters of his early patron, sir henry goodere, frances and anne (lady ramsford); then he celebrates a "dear sylvia, one the best alive," and then that dear nymph that in the muses joys, that in wild charnwood with her flocks doth go, mirtilla, sister to those hopeful boys, my lovèd thyrsis and sweet palmeo; that oft to soar the southern shepherds bring, of whose clear waters they divinely sing. so good she is, so good likewise they be, as none to her might brother be but they, nor none a sister unto them, but she,-- to them for wit few like, i dare will say: in them as nature truly meant to show how near the first, she in the last could go. the "golden-mouthed drayton musical" had spent his youth not many miles from "wild charnwood," at polesworth hall, the home of the gooderes, in warwickshire. the dear nymph of charnwood is elizabeth beaumont, in a lass of eighteen,--and the "hopeful boys" who bring the southern shepherds (jonson, perhaps, and young john fletcher, as well as drayton) to their grace-dieu priory by the river soar, are john, then about twenty-three, and the future dramatist, about twenty-two.[ ] under the pastoral pseudonym of mirtilla, elizabeth is again celebrated by drayton twenty-four years later, in his _muses elizium_. since these pastorals are in confessed sequence with those of "the prime pastoralist of england," and the pastoral thyrsis and young palmeo have already sung divinely of the clear waters of their native stream, it would appear that they too are disciples at that time of master edmund spenser in his _shepheards calender_. and since these brothers, so like in wit and feature, and in charming devotion to their sister, are all the brothers that she has, it is evident that this portion of the _eglog_ was written after july , ; for up to that date, the eldest of the family, henry, was still living, and at the manor house of grace-dieu. this friendship between drayton and the "hopeful boys" continued through life; for, as we shall later note and more at length, in , the year of john's death, and many years after that of francis, the older poet still celebrates the twain as "my dear companions whom i freely chose my bosome-friends." when james i made his famous progress from edinburgh to london, april to may , , "every nobleman and gentleman kept open house as he passed. he spent his time in festivities and amusements of various kinds. the gentry of the counties through which his journey lay thronged in to see him. most of them returned home decorated with the honours of knighthood, a title which he dispensed with a profusion which astonished those who remembered the sober days of elizabeth."[ ] one of those thus decorated was the poet's brother henry, who was dubbed knight bachelor at worksop in derbyshire, on the same day as his uncle, "henry perpoint of county notts," and william skipwith of cotes in the beaumont county--who appears later as a friend of fletcher. two days afterwards, thomas beaumont of coleorton received the honour of knighthood at the earl of rutland's castle of belvoir.[ ] sir henry of grace-dieu did not long enjoy his title. he died about the tenth of july , and was buried on the thirteenth. by his will, witnessed by his brother francis, and probated february , sir henry left half of his private estate to his sister, elizabeth "for her advancement in marriage," and the other half to be divided equally between john and francis. he was succeeded as head of the family by john,[ ] who later married a daughter of john fortescue--also of a poetic race--and left by her a large family. the sister, elizabeth (mirtilla) probably continued to live at grace-dieu until her marriage to thomas seyliard of kent. and that francis occasionally came home on visits from london we have other proof than that afforded by drayton. the provision of a competence made by sir henry's will leads us to conjecture that the subsequent dramatic activity of the younger brother was undertaken for sheer love of the art; and that, while his finances may have been occasionally at low ebb, the association in bohemian _ménage_ with john fletcher, which followed the years of residence at the inner temple, was a matter of choice, not of poverty. footnotes: [ ] _inns of court and chancery_ (lond., ), p. ; w. r. douthwaite, _gray's inn, its history and associations_ (lond., ), pp. , , . for the beaumonts, and what follows, see, also, inderwick, _inner temple records_ (lond. ), i, ; ii, ; introductions, and subjects as indexed. [ ] _inns of court, etc._, p. . [ ] the dedication first appears in the folio of . [ ] h. e. duke, k. c., m. p., _gray's inn in six lectures on the inns of court and of chancery_, . [ ] _early english classical tragedies_, introduction, p. lxxxvi. [ ] letters and life of francis bacon, i, . [ ] cunliffe, _e. e. class. tragedies_, p. lxxxvi. [ ] reprinted by _dramaticus, sh. soc. pap._ iii, ( ). [ ] _dramaticus_, (as above). [ ] on these identifications, see fleay, _chron. eng. dr._, i, - ; elton, _michael drayton_, pp. , ; child, _michael drayton_ (in _camb. hist. lit._, iv, , _et seq._). [ ] gardiner, _hist. engl._ - , p. . [ ] shaw's _knights of engl._, vol. ii, under dates. [ ] grosart (_d. n. b._ art. _john beaumont_) says that john had been admitted to the inner temple with henry. john does not appear in inderwick. chapter iv the vaux cousins and the gunpowder plot certain political events of the years to must have occasioned the young beaumonts intimate and poignant concern. their own family was, of course, protestant, but it was closely connected by blood and matrimonial alliance with some of the most devoted and conspicuous catholic families of england. some of their hastings kinsmen, sons of francis, earl of huntingdon, were catholics; and their first cousins, the vauxes, whose home at great harrowden near by had been for over twenty years the harbourage of persecuted priests, were active jesuits. after the death of his first wife,--beaumont's aunt elizabeth, who left four children, henry, eleanor, elizabeth, and anne,--william, lord vaux, had married mary, the sister of the noble-hearted and self-sacrificing catholic, sir thomas tresham of rushton in northamptonshire; and this lady had brought up her own children, george and ambrose, as well as the children of the first marriage, in strict adherence to the roman faith and practice. henry, the heir to the title, had been one of that zealous band of young catholic gentlemen who received fathers campion and persons on their arrival in england in .[ ] before , henry, "that blessed gentleman and saint," as father persons calls him, had died, having resigned his inheritance of the barony to his brother george some years earlier in order to spend his remaining days in celibacy, study, and prayer. in , george, the elder son by the second marriage, had taken to wife, elizabeth roper, also an ardent catholic, the daughter of the future lord teynham. she was left a widow in with an infant son, edward, whom she educated to maintain the catholicity of the family. in , the old baron, beaumont's uncle, died--"the infortunatest peer of parliament for poverty that ever was" by reason of the fines and forfeitures entailed upon him for his religious zeal. meanwhile, in , we find the daughters of the first marriage, eleanor, whose husband was an edward brookesby, of arundel house, leicestershire, and anne vaux, concealing in a house in warwickshire, the well-known father gerard and his superior, father garnet, from priest-hunters, or pursuivants. these two cousins of beaumont are described in father gerard's _narrative_[ ] as illustrious for goodness and holiness, "whom in my own mind i often compare to the two women who received our lord." the younger, anne, "was remarkable at all times for her virginal modesty and shamefacedness, but in the cause of god and the defence of his servants, the _virgo_ became _virago_. she is almost always ill, but we have seen her, when so weakened as to be scarce able to utter three words without pain, on the arrival of the pursuivants become so strong as to spend three or four hours in contest with them. when she has no priest in the house she feels afraid; but the simple presence of a priest so animates her that then she makes sure that no devil has any power over her house." in the years that follow to , the vauxes are identified as recusants and as sympathizers with the untoward fortunes of fathers southwell, walpole, garnet, and others. in , their kinsman and frank beaumont's, henry hastings, nephew to george, fourth earl of huntingdon, has joined the ranks and in , we find him in a list of jesuits "to be sought after" by the earl of salisbury,--"john gerard with mrs. vaux and young mr. hastings." father gerard's headquarters in fact are from to with mrs. vaux and her son edward, the young baron, at great harrowden, and there others of the fifteen jesuit fathers in england at that time, and prominent catholics, such as sir oliver manners, brother of roger, earl of rutland, sir everard digby, and francis tresham, a first cousin of mrs. vaux, were wont to foregather. when james i came to the throne, the catholics had hope of some alleviation of the penalties under which they laboured. disappointed in this hope, the discontented, led by two priests, watson and clarke, embarked upon a wild scheme to kidnap the king and set as the price of his liberty the extension to catholics of equal rights, religious, civil, and political, with the protestants. the plot was betrayed, the priests executed, and the other leaders condemned to death,--then reprieved but attainted. among those thus reprieved were lord grey de wilton and "a confederate named brookesby." this brookesby was bartholomew, the brother of eleanor vaux's husband. when new and more stringent measures were immediately adopted for the repression of priests and recusants, the indignation of the catholics reached a climax. "they saw," says gardiner, "no more than the intolerable wrong under which they suffered; and it would be strange if there were not some amongst them who would be driven to meet wrong with violence, and to count even the perpetration of a great crime as a meritorious deed."[ ] in father gerard took a new house in london in the fields behind st. clement's inn,--just across the strand from the inner temple where francis beaumont was living at the time. "this new house," says gerard, "was very suitable and convenient and had private entrances on both sides, and i had contrived in it some most excellent hiding-places; and there i should have long remained, free from all peril or even suspicion, if some friends of mine, while i was absent from london, had not availed themselves of the house rather rashly."[ ] these friends were robert catesby, a cousin of the vauxes of harrowden; his cousin, thomas winter; winter's relative, john wright, and thomas percy, a kinsman of henry, ninth earl of northumberland,--all gentlemen of distinguished county families. in may , these men with one guy fawkes of york and scotton, a soldier of fortune and "excellent good natural parts," and, like the rest, fanatic with brooding over the wrongs of the catholic church, met at father gerard's house behind st. clement's inn, swore to keep secret the purpose of their meeting, received in an adjoining room the sacrament from father gerard, an unwitting accomplice, in confirmation of their oath; and then, retiring, learned from catesby that the project intended was to blow up the parliament house with gunpowder when the king and the royal family next came to the house of lords. within a few days "thomas percy hired a howse at westminster," says fawkes in his subsequent confession, "neare adjoyning parlt. howse, and there wee beganne to make a myne about the xi of december, ." the rest of the story is too well-known to call for repetition. how the gunpowder was smuggled into a cellar running under the parliament house; how, when parliament was prorogued to november th, , the conspirators, running short of money to equip an insurrection, added to their number a few wealthy accomplices,--most significant to our narrative, that old friend of the vauxes, sir edward digby, and francis tresham, cousin of catesby and the winters, and as i have said of the vauxes themselves.[ ] how tresham, recoiling from the destruction of innocent catholic lords with the detested protestants, met catesby, winter, and fawkes at white webbs, "a house known as dr. hewick's house by enfield chace," and laboured with them for permission to warn their friends, especially his brothers-in-law, lord stourton and monteagle; and how, when permission was refused, he wrote an anonymous letter to monteagle, begging him "as you tender your life, to devise some excuse to shift of your attendance at this parliament; for god and man hath concurred to punish the wickedness of this time." how monteagle informed the council and the king. how guy fawkes was discovered among his barrels of gunpowder, and on the fourth of november arrested as "john johnson," the servant of thomas percy, one of the king's gentlemen pensioners. how "on the morning of the fifth, the news of the great deliverance ran like wildfire along the streets of london," and catesby and wright, percy and the brothers winter, were in full flight for lady catesby's house in ashby st. legers, northamptonshire, not far from harrowden. with the rest of the world francis beaumont would gasp with amazement. but what must have been his concern when on the first examination of "john johnson," november th, the identity of that conspirator was established not by any confession of his, but from the contents of a letter found upon him, written by--beaumont's first cousin, anne vaux![ ] as intelligence oozed from the lords of council, beaumont would next learn that anne's sister-in-law, mrs. [elizabeth] vaux of harrowden had expected something was about to take place, and that father gerard and "walley" [garnet, the father superior of the english jesuits] "made her house their chief resort"; and then that fawkes had confessed that catesby, the two winters, and francis tresham--all of the vaux family connection--and sir everard digby of their close acquaintance, were implicated in the plot; and that the conspiracy was not merely to blow up the older members of the royal family but to secure the princess elizabeth, place her upon the throne, and marry her to an english catholic,[ ]--therefore, an enterprise likely to implicate his catholic cousins, indeed. his friend, ben jonson, is meanwhile blustering of private informations, and francis would be likely to hear that ben has written (november ) to lord salisbury offering his services to unravel the web "if no better person can be found," and averring that the catholics "are all so enweaved in it as it will make gent. lesse of the religion within this weeke." then he is apprised that john wright, catesby, percy, etc., have been seen at "lady" vaux's on the eighth. the next day, that these three and christopher wright have been overtaken and slain; and then that, on the ninth, fawkes has confessed that they have been using a house of father garnet's at white webbs as a rendezvous. perhaps white webbs means nothing to francis just yet, but it soon will. three days later, tresham under examination acknowledges interviews with his cousins, catesby and thomas winter, and with fathers garnet and gerard; but says he has not been at mrs. vaux's house at harrowden for a year. soon afterwards, december , the inner temple itself is shaken to the foundations by the intelligence that jesuit literature has been discovered by sir edward coke in tresham's chamber,--a manuscript of blackwell's famous treatise on _equivocation_, destined to play a baleful rôle in the ensuing examination of certain of the suspects. meanwhile, francis would observe with alarm that his vaux cousins are from day to day objects of deeper suspicion. on november , lord vaux's house at harrowden is searched; his mother gives up all her keys but no papers are found. she and the young lord strongly deny all knowledge of the treason; the house, however, is still guarded. on the eighteenth, elizabeth, mrs. vaux, is examined and says that she does not know "gerard, the priest"[!]; but among the visitors at her house she mentions catesby, digby, and "greene" [greenway] and "darcy" [garnet], priests. she acknowledges having written to lady wenman, the wife of sir richard, last easter, saying that "tottenham would turn french," but fails to explain her meaning. from other quarters, however, it is learned that she bade that lady "be of good comfort for there should soon be toleration for religion," adding: "fast and pray that that may come to pass which we purpose, which yf it doe, wee shall see totnam turned french." and sir richard, examined concerning the contents of mrs. vaux's letter to his wife, affirms that he "disliked their intercourse, because mrs. vaux tried to pervert his wife." on december , catesby's servant, bates, acknowledges that he revealed the whole plot to greenway, the priest, in confession, "who said it was a good cause, bade him be secret, and absolved him." from henry huddleston's examination, december , it appears that mrs. vaux has not been telling the whole truth about harrowden, for not only were the two other priests most suspected, garnet and greenway, there sometimes, but also gerard, whom huddleston has met there. on january , bates definitely connects gerard and garnet with the proceedings; and all three priests are proclaimed. gerard cannot be found, but from his own _narrative_ it appears that he had been hiding at harrowden before, that now he is concealed in london, and elizabeth vaux knows where.[ ] when she is brought again before the lords of council and threatened with death if she tell not where the priest is, we may imagine the interest of the beaumonts. francis, though no sympathizer with the plot, cannot have failed to admire the bearing of elizabeth during the examination: "as for my hostess, mrs. vaux," writes father gerard, "she was brought to london after that long search for me, and strictly examined about me by the lords of the council; but she answered to everything so discreetly as to escape all blame. at last they produced a letter of hers to a certain relative, asking for the release of father strange and another, of whom i spoke before. this relative of hers was the chief man in the county in which they had been taken, and she thought she could by her intercession with him prevail for their release. but the treacherous man, who had often enough, as far as words went, offered to serve her in any way, proved the truth of our lord's prophecy, 'a man's enemies shall be those of his own household!' for he immediately sent up her letter to the council. they showed her, therefore, her own letter, and said to her, 'you see now that you are entirely at the king's mercy for life or death; so if you consent to tell us where father gerard is, you shall have your life.' "'i do not know where he is,' she answered, 'and if i did know, i would not tell you.' "then rose one of the lords, who had been a former friend of hers, to accompany her to the door, out of courtesy, and on the way said to her persuasively, 'have pity on yourself and on your children, and say what is required of you, for otherwise you must certainly die.' "to which she answered with a loud voice, 'then, my lord, i will die.' "this was said when the door had been opened, so that her servants who were waiting for her heard what she said, and all burst into weeping. but the council only said this to terrify her, for they did not commit her to prison, but sent her to the house of a certain gentleman in the city, and after being held there in custody for a time she was released, but on condition of remaining in london. and one of the principal lords of the council acknowledged to a friend that he had nothing against her, except that she was a stout papist, going ahead of others, and, as it were, a leader in evil." what follows of elizabeth's devotion to the cause, would not be likely to filter through; but the beaumonts may have had their suspicions. according to father gerard:-- "immediately she was released from custody, knowing that i was then in london, quite forgetful of herself, she set about taking care of me, and provided all the furniture and other things necessary for my new house. moreover, she sent me letters daily, recounting everything that occurred; and when she knew that i wished to cross the sea for a time, she bid me not spare expense, so that i secured a safe passage, for that she would pay everything, though it should cost five thousand florins, and in fact she sent me at once a thousand florins for my journey. i left her in care of father percy, who had already as my companion lived a long time at her house. there he still remains, and does much good. i went straight to rome, and being sent back thence to these parts, was fixed at louvain."[ ] so much at present of elizabeth. we shall hear of her, as did beaumont, during the succeeding years. in the tribulations of anne vaux, his own first cousin, francis must have been even more deeply interested. that she was in communication with fawkes had been discovered, november . she was apprehended, committed to the care of sir john swynerton, but temporarily discharged. when fawkes confessed, november , that the conspirators had been using a house of father garnet's at white webbs, in enfield chace, the house called "dr. hewick's" was searched. "no papers nor munition found, but popish books and relics,--and many trap-doors and secret passages." garnet had escaped but, on examination of the servants, it developed that under the pseudonym of "meaze" he had taken the house "for his sister, mrs. perkins,"--[and who should "mrs. perkins" turn out to be but anne vaux!] the books and relics are the property of "mrs. jennings,"--[and who should she be but anne's sister, eleanor brookesby!] "mrs. perkins spent a month at white webbs lately;" and "three gentlemen [catesby, winter, and another] came to white webbs, the day the king left royston" [october ]. on november , sir everard digby's servant deposes concerning garnet that "mrs. ann vaux doth usually goe with him whithersoever he goethe." on january , as we have seen, warrants are out for the arrest of garnet. on january , he is taken with another jesuit priest, father oldcorne, at hindlip hall, in worcestershire, where for seven days and nights they have been buried in a closet, and nourished by broths conveyed to them by means of a quill which passed "through a little hole in a chimney that backed another chimney into a gentlewoman's chamber." true enough, the deposition, that whithersoever her beloved father superior "goethe, mrs. ann vaux doth usually goe"; for she is the gentlewoman of the broths and quill,--she with mrs. abington, the sister of monteagle. garnet and oldcorne are taken prisoners to the tower; and three weeks later anne is in town again, communicating with garnet by means of letters, ostensibly brief and patent, but eked out with tidings written in an invisible ink of orange-juice. on march , garnet confesses that mrs. anne vaux, alias perkins, he, and brookesby bear the expenses of white webbs. on march , anne being examined says that she keeps the place at her own expense; that catesby, winter, and tresham have been to her house, but that she knew nothing of the plot; on the contrary, suspecting some mischief at one time, she had "begged garnet to prevent it." examined again on march , she says that "francis tresham, her cousin, often visited her and garnet at white webbs, erith, wandsworth, etc., when garnet would counsel him to be patient and quiet; and that they also visited tresham at his house in warwickshire." garnet's trial took place at guildhall on march , sir edward coke of the inner temple acting for the prosecution. garnet acknowledged that the plot had been conveyed to him by another priest [greenway] in confession. he was convicted, however, not for failing to divulge that knowledge, but for failing to dissuade catesby and the rest, both before and after he had gained knowledge from greenway. he was executed on may . of anne's share in all that has preceded, beaumont would by this date have known. one wonders whether he or his brother, john, ever learned the pathetic details of the final correspondence between anne and the father superior. how, march , she wrote to him asking directions for the disposal of herself, and concluding that life without him was "not life but deathe." how, april , he replied with advice for her future; and as to oldcorne and himself, added that the former had "dreamt there were two tabernacles prepared for them." how, the next day, she wrote again asking fuller directions and wishing father oldcorne had "dreamt there was a third seat" for her. and how, that same day, with loving thought for all details of her proceedings, and with sorrow for his own weakness under examination, the father superior sends his last word to her,--that he will "die not as a victorious martyr, but as a penitent thief,"--and bids her farewell. all this of the harrowden cousins and their connection with catholicism and the gunpowder plot, i have included not only because it touches nearly upon the family interests and friendships of beaumont's early years, but also because it throws light upon the circumstances and feelings which prompted the satire of his first play, _the woman-hater_ (acted in ), where as we shall see he alludes with horror to the plot itself, but holds up to ridicule the informers who swarmed the streets of london in the years succeeding, and trumped up charges of conspiracy and recusancy against unoffending persons, and so sought to deprive them, if not of life, of property. it is with some hesitancy, since the proof to me is not conclusive, that i suggest that the animus in this play against favourites and intelligencers has perhaps more of a personal flavour than has hitherto been suspected. an entry from the docquet, calendared with the state papers, domestic, of november , , may indicate that john beaumont, the brother of francis, though a protestant, had in some way manifested sympathy with his catholic relatives during the persecutions which followed the discovery of the gunpowder plot:--"gift to sir jas. sempill of the king's two parts of the site of the late dissolved monastery of grace-dieu, and other lands in leicester, in the hands of the crown by the recusancy of john beaumont." at first reading the john beaumont would appear to be francis' grandfather, the master of the rolls. but the master lost his lands not for recusancy (or refusal on religious grounds to take the oath of allegiance, or attend the state church), but for malfeasance in office, and that in - , while the protestant edward vi was king. he had no lands to lose after mary mounted the throne,--even if as a protestant he were recusant under a catholic queen. the recusancy seems to be of a date contemporaneous with james's refusal, october , , to take fines from recusants, the king, as the state papers inform us, taking "two-thirds of their goods, lands, etc., instead." the "two-thirds" would appear to be the "two parts" of grace-dieu and other lands, specified in the gift; and that the sufferer was francis beaumont's brother is rendered the more likely by the fact that the beneficiary, sir james sempill, had been distinguishing himself by hatred of roman catholics from november , , on; and that on july , , he is again receiving grants "out of lands and goods of recusants, to be convicted at his charges." there is nothing, indeed, in the career of beaumont's brother, john, as commonly recorded, or in the temper of his poetry to indicate a refusal on his part to disavow the supremacy of rome in ecclesiastical affairs, or to attend regularly the services of the protestant church. his writings speak both loyalty and protestant christianity. but it is to be noted that not only many of his kinsmen but his wife, as well, belonged to families affiliated with roman catholicism, and that his eulogistic poems addressed to james are all of later years,--after his kinsman, buckingham, had "drawn him from his silent cell," and "first inclined the anointed head to hear his rural songs, and read his lines"; also that it is only under james's successor that he is honoured by a baronetcy. it is, therefore, not at all impossible that, because of some careless or over-frank utterance of fellow-feeling for his catholic connections, or of repugnance for the unusually savage measures adopted after the discovery of the gunpowder plot, he may have been accused of recusancy, deprived of part of his estate, and driven into the seclusion which he maintained at grace-dieu till or thereabout. footnotes: [ ] john morris, _life of father john gerard_, p. , _et seq._ [ ] morris, _op. cit._, p. . see below, appendix, table d. [ ] gardiner, _hist. engl._ - , i, . [ ] morris, p. . see also, below, appendix, table d. [ ] fletcher's connections, also, the bakers, lennards, and sackvilles were interested in the fortunes of francis tresham; for he had married anne tufton of hothfield, kent, granddaughter of mary baker who was sister of sir richard of sissinghurst and of cicely, first countess of dorset.--collins, iii, ; hasted, vii, . see below, appendix, tables d, e. [ ] the facts as here presented are drawn from the _calendar of state papers (domestic)_, the _gunpowder plot book_, and father gerard's _narrative_ (in morris), in the order of dates as indicated. [ ] nov. - . [ ] morris, _life of father gerard_, p. . [ ] morris, pp. - . chapter v fletcher's family, and his youth the friendship between francis beaumont and john fletcher may have commenced at any time after francis became a member of the inner temple, in ,--probably not later than , when beaumont was about twenty-one and fletcher twenty-six. the latter was the son of "a comely and courtly prelate," richard, bishop, successively of bristol, worcester, and london. richard's father, also, had been a clergyman; and richard, himself, in his earlier years had been pensioner and scholar of trinity, cambridge ( ), then fellow of bene't college (corpus christi), then president of the college. in he married elizabeth holland at cranbrook in kent, perhaps of the family of hugh holland, descended from the earls of kent, who later appears in the circle of beaumont's acquaintance; became, next, minister of the church of rye, sussex, about fifteen miles south of cranbrook; then, chaplain to the queen; then, dean of peterborough. while he was officiating at rye, in december , john the fourth of nine children, was born. this john, the dramatist, is probably the "john fletcher of london," who was admitted pensioner of bene't college, cambridge, in , and, as if destined for holy orders, became two years later a bible-clerk, reading the lessons in the services of the college chapel. at the time of his entering college, his father had risen to the bishopric of bristol; and, later in , had been made lord high almoner to the queen; he had a house at chelsea, and was near the court "where his presence was accustomed much to be." by the bishop had been advanced to the diocese of worcester; and we find him active in the house of lords with the archbishop of canterbury in the proposal of severe measures against the barrowists and brownists.[ ] the next year he was elected bishop of london,--succeeding john aylmer, who had been tutor to lady jane grey,--and was confirmed by royal assent in january . from sir john harington's unfavourable account[ ] it would appear that the bishop owed his rapid promotion to the combination of great mind and small means which made him a fitting tool for "zealous courtiers whose devotion did serve them more to prey on the church than pray in the church." but his will, drawn in , shows him mindful of the poor, solicitous concerning the "chrystian and godlie education" of his children and confident in the principles and promises of the christian faith,--"this hope hath the god of all comforte laide upp in my breste." we have no record of john's proceeding to a degree. it is not unlikely that he left cambridge for the city when his father attained the metropolitan see. from early years the boy had enjoyed every opportunity of observing the ways of monarchs and courtiers, scholars and poets, as well as of princes of the church. since , his father had "lived in her highnes," the queen's, "gratious aspect and favour." _præsul splendidus_, says camden. eloquent, accomplished, courtly, lavish in hospitality and munificence, no wonder that he counted among his friends, burghley, the lord treasurer, and burghley's oldest son, sir thomas cecil, anthony bacon, the brother of sir francis, and that princely second earl of essex, robert devereux, who had married the widow of sir philip sidney, and with whom the lame but clever anthony bacon lived. sir francis drake also was one of his friends and gave him a "ringe of golde" which he willed to one of his executors. another of his "loveinge freindes," and an assistant-executor of his will, was the learned and vigorous dr. richard bancroft, his successor as bishop of london and afterwards archbishop of canterbury. as for immediate literary connections, suffice it here to say that the bishop's brother, dr. giles fletcher, was a cultivated diplomat and writer upon government, and that the sons of dr. giles were the clerical spenserians, phineas, but three years younger than his cousin the dramatist,--whose fisher-play _sicelides_ was acting at king's college, cambridge, in the year of john's _chances_ in london, and whose _brittain's ida_ is as light in its youthful eroticism as his _purple island_ is ponderous in pedantic allegory,--and giles, nine years younger than john, who was printing verses before john wrote his earliest play, and whose poem of _christ's victorie_ was published, in , a year or so later than john's pastoral of _the faithfull shepheardesse_. bishop fletcher could tell his sons stories of royalty, not only in affluence, but in distress; for when john was but eight years old the father as dean of peterborough was chaplain to mary, queen of scots, at fotheringay, adding to her distress "by the zeal with which he urged her to renounce the faith of rome." it was he who when mary's head was held up after the execution cried, "so perish all the queen's enemies!"[ ] he could, also, tell them much about the great founder of the dorset family, for at fotheringay at the same time was thomas sackville, lord buckhurst, afterwards first earl of dorset, who had come to announce to mary, queen of scots, the sentence of death. from on, the bishop was experiencing the alternate "smiles and frowns of royalty" in london; about the time that john left college more particularly the frowns. for, john's mother having died about the end of , the bishop had, in , most unwisely married maria (daughter of john giffard of weston-under-edge in gloucestershire), the relict of a few months' standing of sir richard baker of sissinghurst in kent. the bishop's acquaintance with this second wife, as well as with the first, probably derived from his father's incumbency as vicar of the church in cranbrook, kent, which began in and was still existing as late as . the young richard would often have shuddered as a child before bloody baker's prison with its iron-barred windows glowering from the parish church, for sir john hated the primitive and pious anabaptists who had taken up their abode about cranbrook, and he hunted them down;[ ] and richard would, as a lad, have walked the two miles across the clayey fields and through the low-lying woods with his father to the stately manor house, built by old sir john baker himself in the time of edward vi, and have seen that distinguished personage who had been attorney-general and chancellor of the exchequer under henry viii,--and who as may be recalled was one of that council of state, in , which ratified and signed edward vi's 'devise for the succession' making lady jane grey inheritress of the crown. and when young richard returned from his presidency of bene't college, in , to cranbrook to marry elizabeth holland, he would have renewed acquaintance with sir richard, who had succeeded the "bloody" sir john as master of sissinghurst, sixteen years before. he may for all we know have been present at the entertainment which that same year sir richard made for queen elizabeth. maria giffard was twenty-four years old, then. whether she was yet lady baker we do not know--but it is probable; and we may be sure that on his various visits to cranbrook, the rising dean and bishop had frequent opportunity to meet her at sissinghurst before his own wife's death, or the death of sir richard in . since the sister of sir richard baker, cicely, was already the wife of thomas sackville, lord buckhurst, when, in - , buckhurst and richard fletcher, dean of peterborough, were thrown together at fotheringay, it is not unlikely that the closer association between the fletchers and lady buckhurst's sister-in-law of sissinghurst grew out of this alliance of the sackvilles with the bakers. [illustration: thomas sackville, first earl of dorset from the portrait in the possession of lord sackville, at knole park] lady baker was in in conspicuous disfavour with queen elizabeth, and with the people too; for, if she was virtuous, as her nephew records,[ ] "the more happy she in herself, though unhappy that the world did not believe it."[ ] certain it is, that in a contemporary satire she is thrice-damned as of the most ancient of disreputable professions, and once dignified as "my lady letcher." though of unsavoury reputation, she was of fine appearance, and socially very well connected. her brother, sir george giffard, was in service at court under elizabeth; and in sackville, lord buckhurst, she had a brother-in-law, who was kinsman to the queen, herself. but not only did the queen dislike her, she disliked the idea of any of her prelates, especially her comely bishop of london, marrying a second time, without her express consent. for a year after this second marriage the bishop was suspended from his office. "here of the bishop was sadly sensible," says fuller, "and seeking to lose his sorrow in a mist of smoak, died of the immoderate taking thereof." sir john harington, however, tells us that he regained the royal favour;--"but, certain it is that (the queen being pacified, and hee in great jollity with his faire lady and her carpets and cushions in his bed-chamber) he died suddenly, taking tobacco in his chaire, saying to his man that stood by him, whom he loved very well, 'oh, boy, i die.'" that was in . the bishop left little but his library and his debts. the former went to two of his sons, nathaniel and john. the latter swallowed up his house at chelsea with his other properties. the bishop's brother and chief executor of the will, giles, the diplomat, is soon memorializing the queen for "some commiseration towards the orphans of the late bishopp of london." he emphasizes the diminution of the bishop's worldly estate consequent upon his translation to the costly see of london, his extraordinary charges in the reparation of the four episcopal residences, his lavish expenditure in hospitality, his penitence for "the errour of his late marriage," and concludes:--"he hath left behinde him poore children, whereof divers are very young. his dettes due to the quenes majestie and to other creditors are _li._ or thereaboutes, his whole state is but one house wherein the widow claimeth her thirds, his plate valewed at _li._, his other stuffe at _li._" anthony bacon, who sympathized with the purpose of this memorial, enlisted the coöperation of bishop fletcher's powerful friend and his own patron, the earl of essex, who "likewise represented to the queen the case of the orphans ... in so favourable a light that she was inclin'd to relieve them;" but whether she did so or not, we are unable to discover.[ ] what john fletcher,--a lad of seventeen, when, in , he was turned out of fulham palace and his father's private house in chelsea, with its carpets and cushions and the special "stayre and dore made of purpose ... in a bay window" for the entrance of queen elizabeth when she might deign, or did deign, to visit her unruly prelate,--what the lad of seventeen did for a living before we find him, about or , in the ranks of the dramatists, we have no means of knowing. perhaps the remaining years of his boyhood were spent with his uncle, giles, and his young cousins, the coming poets, or with the aunt whom his father called "sister pownell." the stepmother of eighteen months' duration is not likely with her luxurious tastes and questionable character to have tarried long in charge of the eight "poore and fatherless children." she had children of her own by her previous marriage, in whom to seek consolation, grisogone and cicely baker, then in their twenties, and devoted to her.[ ] and with one or both we may surmise that she resumed her life in kent, or with the heir of sleepy sissinghurst, making the most of her carpets and cushions and such of her "thirds" as she could recover, until--for she was but forty-seven--she might find more congenial comfort in a third marriage. her permanent consoler was a certain sir stephen thornhurst of forde in the isle of thanet; and he, thirteen years after the death of her second husband, buried her in state in canterbury cathedral, . in her sister-in-law, cicely (baker) sackville, now countess of dorset and the earl, her husband, that fine old dramatist of beaumont's inner temple, and former acquaintance at fotheringay of john fletcher's father, had taken possession of the manor of knole, near sevenoaks in kent, where their descendants live to-day. before , fletcher's stepsister cicely, named after her aunt, the countess, had become the lady cicely blunt. grisogone became the lady grisogone lennard, having married, about , a great friend of william herbert, earl of pembroke, and of his countess (sir philip sidney's sister), sir henry, the son of sampson lennard of chevening and knole. the lennard estate lay but three and a half miles from that of their connections, the dorsets, of knole park. if young fletcher ever went down to see his stepmother at sissinghurst, or his own mother's family in cranbrook, he was but twenty-six miles by post-road from chevening and still less from aunt cicely at knole. beaumont, himself, as we shall see, married the heiress of sundridge place a mile and a half south of chevening, and but forty minutes across the fields from knole. his sister elizabeth, too, married a gentleman of one of the neighbouring parishes. the acquaintance of both our dramatists with bakers and sackvilles was enhanced by sympathies literary and dramatic. a still younger sir richard baker, cousin to john fletcher's stepsisters, and to the second and third earls of dorset, was an historian, a poet, and a student of the stage--on familiar terms with tarleton, burbadge, and alleyn. and the literary traditions handed down from thomas sackville, the author of _gorboduc_ and _the mirror for magistrates_ were not forgotten by his grandson, richard, third earl of dorset, the contemporary of our dramatists,--for whom, if i am not mistaken, their portraits, now hanging in the dining-room of the baron sackville at knole, were painted.[ ] * * * * * i have dwelt thus at length upon the conditions antecedent to, and investing, the youth of beaumont and of fletcher, because the documents already at hand, if read in the light of scientific biography and literature, set before us with remarkable clearness the social and poetic background of their career as dramatists. when this background of birth, breeding, and family connection is filled in with the deeper colours of their life in london, its manners, experience, and associations, one may more readily comprehend why dryden says in comparing them with shakespeare, "they understood and imitated the conversation of gentlemen [of contemporary fashion] much better; whose wild debaucheries and quickness of wit in repartees, no poet before them could paint as they have done." footnotes: [ ] _cal. state papers (dom.)_, april , . [ ] _briefe view of the state of the church._ [ ] nichols's _progresses of queen elizabeth_, ii, - . [ ] see the story in _camden miscellany_, iii ( ). [ ] sir richard baker, in his _chronicle of the kings of england_. [ ] fuller's _worthies_, as cited by dyce, i, x, xi. [ ] the materials as furnished by dyce, _b. and f._, i, xiv-xv, from birch's _mem. of elizabeth_, and the bacon papers in the lambeth library are confirmed by _cal. st. papers_ (_dom._), june , july , , _etc._ [ ] as her monument in canterbury would indicate. hasted, _hist. kent_, xi, . [ ] for the bakers and their connections, see hasted, _hist. kent_, iii, ; iv, , _et seq._; vii, - ; for the sackvilles.--hasted, iii, - ; for the lennards,--hasted, iii, - ; the _peerages_ of collins, burke, etc., and the articles in _d. n. b._ see also, below, appendix, table e. chapter vi some early plays of beaumont and of fletcher beaumont and fletcher may have been friends by or ,--in all likelihood, as early as when, as we have seen, drayton and other "southern shepherds" were by way of visiting the beaumonts at grace-dieu. in that year jonson's _volpone_ was acted for the first time; and one may divine from the familiar and affectionate terms in which our two young dramatists address the author upon the publication of the play in that they had been acquainted not only with jonson but with one another for the two years past. we have no satisfactory proof of their coöperation in play-writing before or . according to dryden,--whose statements of fact are occasionally to be taken with a grain of salt, but who, in this instance, though writing almost sixty years after the event, is basing his assertion upon first-hand authority,--"the first play that brought 'them' in esteem was their _philaster_," but "before that they had written two or three very unsuccessfully." _philaster_, as i shall presently show, was, in all probability, first acted between december , and july , . before , however, each had written dramas independently, beaumont _the woman-hater_ and _the knight of the burning pestle_; fletcher, _the faithfull shepheardesse_, and maybe one or two other plays. our first evidence of their association in dramatic activity is the presence of fletcher's hand, apparently as a reviser, in three scenes of _the woman-hater_, which was licensed for publication may , , as "lately acted by the children of paul's." from contemporary evidence we know, as did dryden, that two of these plays, _the knight_ and _faithfull shepheardesse_ were ungraciously received; and richard brome, about fourteen years after fletcher's death, suggests that perhaps _monsieur thomas_ shared "the common fate." _the woman-hater_ was the earliest play of either of our dramatists to find its way into print. drayton's lines, already referred to, about "sweet palmeo" imply that beaumont was already known as a poet, before april . a passage in the prologue of _the woman-hater_ seems, as professor thorndike has shown, to refer to the narrow escape of jonson, chapman, and marston from having their ears cropped for an offense given to the king by their _eastward hoe_. if it does, "he that made this play," undoubtedly beaumont, made it after the publication of _eastward hoe_ in . the title-page of says that the play is given "as it hath been lately acted." the ridicule of intelligencers emulating some worthy men in this land "who have discovered things dangerously hanging over the state" has reference to the system of spying which assumed enormous proportions after the discovery of the gunpowder plot in november . an allusion to king james's weakness for handsome young men, "why may not _i_ be a favourite in the sudden?" may very well refer, as fleay has maintained, to the restoration to favour of robert ker (or carr) of ferniehurst, afterwards earl somerset,--a page whom james had "brought with him from scotland, and brought up of a child,"[ ] but had dismissed soon after his accession. it was at a tilting match, march , , that the youth "had the good fortune to break his leg in the presence of the king," and "by his personal activity, strong animal spirits," and beauty, to attract his majesty anew, and on the spot. the beauty, beaumont emphasizes as a requisite for royal favour. "why may not _i_ be a favourite on the sudden?" says the bloated, hungry courtier, "i see nothing against it." "not so, sir," replies valore; "i know you have not the _face_ to be a favourite on the sudden." the fact that james did not make a knight bachelor of carr till december of that year, would in no way invalidate a fling at the favour bestowed upon him in march. indeed beaumont's slur in _the woman-hater_ upon "the legs ... very strangely become the legs of a knight and a courtier" might have applied to carr as early as , for on july of that year james had made him a knight of the bath,--in the same batch, by the way, with a certain oliver cromwell of huntingdonshire.[ ] without violating the plague regulations, as laid down by the city, _the woman-hater_ could have been acted during the six months following november , . a passage in act iii, ,[ ] which i shall presently quote in full, is, as has not previously been noticed, a manifest parody of one of antony's speeches in _antony and cleopatra_[ ] which, according to all evidence, was not acted before . it would appear, therefore, that beaumont's first play was completed after january , , probably after march , when carr regained the royal favour, and was presented for the first time during the two months following the latter date. _the woman-hater_ affords interesting glimpses of the author's observation, sometimes perhaps experience, in town and country. "that i might be turned loose," says one of his _dramatis personae_, "to try my fortune amongst the whole fry in a college or an inn of court!" and another, a gay young buck,--"i must take some of the common courses of our nobility, which is thus: if i can find no company that likes me, pluck off my hat-band, throw an old cloak over my face and, as if i would not be known, walk hastily through the streets till i be discovered: 'there goes count such-a-one,' says one; 'there goes count such-a-one,' says another; 'look how fast he goes,' says a third; 'there's some great matters in hand, questionless,' says a fourth;--when all my business is to have them say so. this hath been used. or, if i can find any company [acting at the theatre], i'll after dinner to the stage to see a play; where, when i first enter, you shall have a murmur in the house; every one that does not know, cries, 'what nobleman is that?' all the gallants on the stage, rise, vail to me, kiss their hand, offer me their places; then i pick out some one whom i please to grace among the rest, take his seat, use it, throw my cloak over my face, and laugh at him; the poor gentleman imagines himself most highly graced, thinks all the auditors esteem him one of my bosom friends, and in right special regard with me." and again, and this is much like first-hand knowledge: "there is no poet acquainted with more shakings and quakings, towards the latter end of his new play (when he's in that case that he stands peeping betwixt the curtains, so fearfully that a bottle of ale cannot be opened but he thinks somebody hisses), than i am at this instant." and again,--of the political spies, who had persecuted more than one of beaumont's relatives and, according to tradition, trumped up momentary trouble for our young dramatists themselves, a few years later: "this fellow is a kind of informer, one that lives in ale-houses and taverns; and because he perceives some worthy men in this land, with much labour and great expense, to have discovered things dangerously hanging over the state, he thinks to discover as much out of the talk of drunkards in tap-houses. he brings me information, picked out of broken words in men's common talk, which with his malicious misapplication he hopes will seem dangerous; he doth, besides, bring me the names of all the young gentlemen in the city that use ordinaries or taverns, talking (to my thinking) only as the freedom of their youth teach them without any further ends, for dangerous and seditious spirits." much more in this kind, of city ways known to beaumont; and, also, something of country ways, the table of the leicestershire squire--the beaumonts of coleorton and the villierses of brooksby,--and the hunting-breakfasts with which grace-dieu was familiar. the hungry courtier of the play vows to "keep a sumptuous house; a board groaning under the heavy burden of the beast that cheweth the cud, and the fowl that cutteth the air. it shall not, like the table of a country-justice, be sprinkled over with all manner of cheap salads, sliced beef, giblets and pettitoes, to fill up room; nor shall there stand any great, cumbersome, uncut-up pies at the nether end, filled with moss and stones, partly to make a show with, partly to keep the lower mess [below the salt] from eating; nor shall my meal come in sneaking like the city-service, one dish a quarter of an hour after another, and gone as if they had appointed to meet there and mistook the hour; nor should it, like the new court-service, come in in haste, as if it fain would be gone again [whipped off by the waiters], all courses at once, like a hunting breakfast: but i would have my several courses and my dishes well filed [ordered]; my first course shall be brought in after the ancient manner by a score of old blear-eyed serving-men in long blue coats."--and not a little of life at court, and of the favourites with whom king james surrounded himself:--"they say one shall see fine sights at the court? i'll tell you what you shall see. you shall see many faces of man's making, for you shall find very few as god left them; and you shall see many legs too; amongst the rest you shall behold one pair, the feet of which were in past times sockless, but are now, through the change of time (that alters all things), very strangely become the legs of a knight and a courtier; another pair you shall see, that were heir-apparent legs to a glover; these legs hope shortly to be honourable; when they pass by they will bow, and the mouth to these legs will seem to offer you some courtship; it will swear, but it will lie; hear it not." keen observation this, and a dramatist's acquaintance with many kinds of life; the promise of a satiric mastery, and very vivid prose for a lad of twenty-three. the play is not, as a dramatic composition, of any peculiar distinction. beaumont is still in his pupilage to the classics, and to ben jonson's comedy of humours. but the humours, though unoriginal and boyishly forced, are clearly defined; and the instinct for fun is irrepressible. the woman-hater, obsessed by the delusion that all women are in pursuit, is admirably victimized by a witty and versatile heroine who has, with maliciously genial pretense, assumed the rôle of man-hunter. and to the main plot is loosely, but not altogether ineffectually, attached a highly diverting story which beaumont has taken from the latin treatise of paulus jovius on roman fishes, or from some intermediate source. like the tamisius of the original, his lazarillo,--whose prayer to the goddess of plenty is ever, "fill me this day with some rare delicates,"--scours the city in fruitless quest of an umbrana's head. finally, he is taken by intelligencers, spies in the service of the state, who construe his passion for the head of a fish as treason aimed at the head of the duke. the comedy abounds in parody of verses well known at the time, of lines from _hamlet_ and _all's well that end well_, _othello_[ ] and _eastward hoe_[ ] and bombastic catches from other plays. to me the most ludicrous bit of burlesque is of the moment of last suspense in _antony and cleopatra_ (iv, and ) where antony, thinking to die "after the high roman fashion" which cleopatra forthwith emulates, says "i come my queen,"-- stay for me! where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand, and with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze. dido and her aeneas shall want troops, and all the haunt [of elysium] be ours. so lazarillo, in awful apprehension lest his love, his fish-head, be eaten before he arrive,-- if it be eaten, here he stands that is the most dejected, most unfortunate, miserable, accursed, forsaken slave this province yields! i will not sure outlive it; no, i will die bravely and like a roman; and after death, amidst the elysian shades, i'll meet my love again. shakespeare's play was not entered for publication till may , , but this passage shows that beaumont had seen it at the globe before may , . i have no hesitation in assigning to the same year, , although most critics have dated it three or four years later, beaumont's admirable burlesque of contemporary bourgeois drama and chivalric romance, _the knight of the burning pestle_. evidence both external and internal, which i shall later state, points to its presentation by the children of the queen's revels at blackfriars while they were under the business management of henry evans and robert keysar, and before the temporary suppression of the company in march . the question of date has been complicated by the supposed indebtedness of the burlesque to _don quixote_; but i shall attempt to show, when i consider the play at length, that it has no verbal relation either to the original ( ) or the translation ( ) of cervantes' story. _the knight of the burning pestle_ is in some respects of the same boyish tone and outlook upon the humours of life as _the woman-hater_, but it is incomparably more novel in conception, more varied in composition, and more effervescent in satire. it displays the beaumont of twenty-two or -three as already an effective dramatist of contemporary manners and humours, a master of parody, side-long mirth, and ironic wit, before he joined forces with fletcher and developed, in the treatment of more serious and romantic themes, the power of poetic characterization and the pathos that bespeak experience and reflection,--and, in the treatment of the comedy of life, the realism that proceeds from broad and sympathetic observation. the play, which as the publisher of the first quarto, in , tell us was "begot and borne in eight daies," was not a success; evidently because the public did not like the sport that it made of dramas and dramatists then popular; especially, did not stomach the ridicule of the bombast-loving and romanticizing london citizen himself,--was not yet educated up to the humour; perhaps, because "hee ... this unfortunate child ... was so unlike his brethren." at any rate, according to walter burre, the publisher, in , "the wide world for want of judgement, or not understanding the privy marke of ironie about it (which showed it was no ofspring of any vulgar braine) utterly rejected it." and burre goes on to say in his dedication of the quarto to maister robert keysar:--"for want of acceptance it was even ready to give up the ghost, and was in danger to have bene smothered in perpetuall oblivion, if you (out of your direct antipathy to ingratitude) had not bene moved both to relieve and cherish it: wherein i must needs commend both your judgement, understanding, and singular love to good wits." the rest of this dedication is of great interest as bearing upon the date of the composition of the play; but it has been entirely misconstrued or else it gives us false information. that matter i shall discuss in connection with the sources and composition of the play.[ ] suffice it to say here that _the knight_ followed _the travails of three english brothers_, acted. june , , and that the robert keysar who rescued the manuscript of _the knight_ from oblivion had, only in or , acquired a financial interest in the queen's revels' children, and was backing them during the last year of their occupancy of blackfriars when they presented the play, and where only it was presented. in the same year, , both young men are writing commendatory verses for the first quarto of ben jonson's _volpone_, which had been acted in . beaumont, with the confidence of intimacy, addresses jonson as "dear friend," praises his "even work," deplores its failure with the many who "nothing can digest, but what's obscene, or barks," and implies that he forbears to make them understand its merits purely in deference to jonson's wiser judgment,-- i would have shewn to all the world the art which thou alone hast taught our tongue, the rules of time, of place and other rites, deliver'd with the grace of comic style, which only is far more than any english stage hath known before. but since our subtle gallants think it good to like of nought that may be understood ... ... let us desire they may continue, simply to admire fine clothes and strange words, and offensive personalities. fletcher in a more epigrammatic appeal to "the true master in his art, b. jonson," prays him to forgive friends and foes alike, and then, those "who are nor worthy to be friends or foes." * * * * * concerning fletcher's beginnings in composition the earliest date is suggested by a line of d'avenant's, written many years after fletcher's death ( ), "full twenty years he wore the bays."[ ] it has been conjectured by some that the elder of our dramatists was in the field as early as , with his comedy of _the woman's prize_ or _the tamer tamed_,--a well contrived and witty continuation of shakespeare's _taming of the shrew_,--in which maria, a cousin of shakespeare's katherine, now deceased, marries the bereaved petruchio and effectively turns the tables upon him. if acted before , _the woman's prize_ was a paul's boys' or queen's revels' play. but while the upper limit of the play is fixed by the mention of the siege of ostend, , other references and the literary style point to , even to , as the date of composition or revision.[ ] it is likely that fletcher was writing plays before , but what we do not know. in that year was acted the pastoral drama of _the faithfull shepheardesse_, a composition entirely his own. this delicate confection of sensual desire, ideal love, translunar chastity, and subacid cynicism regarding "all ideas of chastity whatever,"[ ] was an experiment; and a failure upon the stage. it has, as i shall later emphasize, lyric and descriptive charm of surpassing merit, but it lacks, as does most of fletcher's work, moral depth and emotional reality; and following, as it did, a literary convention in design, it could not avail itself of the skill in dramatic device, and the racy flavour which a little later characterized his _monsieur thomas_. the date of its first performance is determined by the combined authority of the stationers' registers (from which we learn that the publishers of the first quarto, undated, but undoubtedly of ,[ ] were in unassisted partnership only from december , to july , ), of a statement of jonson to drummond of hawthornden that the play was written "ten years" before , and of commendatory verses to the first quarto of , by the young actor-dramatist, nathaniel field. if we may guide our calculations by the plague regulations of the time, it must have been acted before july , . on the appearance of the first quarto, in , jonson sympathizing with "the worthy author," on the ill reception of the pastoral when first performed, says: i, that am glad thy innocence was their guilt, for the rabble found not there the "vices, which they look'd for," i-- do crown thy murder'd poem; which shall rise a glorified work to time, when fire or moths shall eat what all these fools admire. and francis beaumont writing to "my friend, master john fletcher" speaks of his "undoubted wit," and "art," and rejoices that, if they should condemn the play now that it is printed, your censurers must have the quality of reading, which i am afraid is more than half your shrewdest judges had before. in the first quarto two commendatory poems are printed, the first by n. f., the second by the homeric scholar and well known dramatist, george chapman. the latter writes "to his loving friend, master john fletcher," in terms of generous encouragement and glowing charm. your pastoral, says he, is "a poem and a play, too,"-- but because your poem only hath by us applause, renews the golden world, and holds through all the holy laws of homely pastoral, where flowers and founts, and nymphs and semi-gods, and all the graces find their old abodes, where forests flourish but in endless verse, and meadows nothing fit for purchasers; this iron age, that eats itself, will never bite at your golden world; that other's ever lov'd as itself. then like your book, do you live in old peace, and that for praise allow. if jonson, chapman, and beaumont suspected the undercurrent of satire in this pastoral, and they surely were not obtuse, they concealed the suspicion admirably. as for fletcher he continued to "live in old peace." "when his faire shepheardesse on the guilty stage, was martir'd between ignorance and rage.... hee only as if unconcernèd smil'd." an attitude toward the public that characterized him all through life. the admiration of younger men is shown in the respectful commendation of n. f. this is nathaniel field. he was acting with the blackfriars' boys since the days when jonson presented _cynthia's revels_, and, as one of the queen's revels' children, he had probably taken part in _the faithfull shepheardesse_ when the undiscerning public hissed it. field came of good family, had been one of mulcaster's pupils at the merchant taylors' school, and was beloved by chapman and jonson. he was then but twenty-two,--about three years younger than fletcher's friend, beaumont,--but for nine years gone he had been recognized as a genius among boy-actors. that the verses of so young a man should be accepted, and coupled with those of the thunder-girt chapman, was to him a great and unexpected honour; and the youth expresses prettily his pride in being published by his "lov'd friend" in such distinguished literary company,-- can my approovement, sir, be worth your thankes, whose unknowne name, and muse in swathing clowtes, is not yet growne to strength, among these rankes to have a roome? now he is planning to write dramas himself; and it is pleasant to note with what modesty he touches upon the project: but i must justifie what privately i censur'd to you, my ambition is (even by my hopes and love to poesie) to live to perfect such a worke as this, clad in such elegant proprietie of words, including a morallitie,[ ] so sweete and profitable. he is alluding to his not yet finished comedy, _a woman is a weather-cocke_. the youth must have been close to beaumont as well as to fletcher; he soon afterwards, - , played the leading part in their _coxcombe_,--which, i think, was the earliest work planned and written by them in collaboration; and when, a little later, his own first comedy was acted by the queen's revels' children no auditor of literary ear could have failed to detect, amid the manifest echoes of chapman, jonson, and shakespeare, the flattering resemblance in diction, rhythm, and poetic fancy to the most characteristic features of beaumont's style. this is very interesting, because in another dramatic composition _foure playes in one_, written in part by fletcher, certain portions have so close a likeness to beaumont's work, that until lately they have been mistakenly attributed to that poet and assigned to this early period of his career. the portions of _the foure playes_ not written by fletcher were written by no other than nat. field. and since in field's _address to the reader_ of the _weather-cocke_, licensed for publication november , , he still speaks as if the _weather-cocke_ were his only venture in play-writing, we may conclude that _the foure playes in one_ was not put together before the end of , or the beginning of . that series need not, therefore, be considered in the present place; all the more so, since beaumont had in all probability nothing directly to do with its composition.[ ] of the other dramas written by fletcher alone and assigned by critics to his earlier period, that is to say before , or even , the only one beside _the faithfull shepheardesse_ that may with any degree of safety be admitted to consideration is a comedy of romance, manners, and humours, _monsieur thomas_. the romance is a delightful story of self-abnegating love. the father, valentine, and the son francisco, supposed to have been drowned long ago, and now known (if the texts had only printed the play as fletcher wrote it) as callidon, a guest of valentine, love the same girl, the father's ward. this part of the play is executed with captivating grace. it shows that fletcher had, from the first, an instinct for the dramatic handling of a complicated story, an eye for delicate and surprising situations, an appreciation of chivalric honour and genuine passion, and a fancy fertile and playful. in the subplot the manners are such as would appeal to a fletcher not yet thirty years of age; and the humours are those of a student of the earlier plays of ben jonson, and of marston--who ceased writing in . it has indeed been asserted, but without much credibility, that "the notion of the panerotic hylas," who must always "be courting wenches through key-holes," was taken from a character in marston's _parasitaster_, of .[ ] the name of this captain, hylas, was in the mouth of fletcher in those early days; he uses it again in his part of the _philaster_, written in or , and elsewhere. the snatches of song and the names of ballads are those of contemporary popularity between and ; and in two instances they are those of which beaumont makes use in his _knight of the burning pestle_ of . the play was acted, too, apparently by the same company, the queen's revels' children, and in the same house as was beaumont's. it could not have been played by them at "the private house in black fryers" later than march , unless they squeezed it into that last month of which serves as a telescope basket for so many of the plays which critics cannot satisfactorily date. for my present purpose, which is to show how fletcher, not assisted by beaumont, wrote during his youth, it makes little difference whether _monsieur thomas_ was written as early as or only before . the fact is, however, that a line in the last scene, "take her, francisco, now no more young callidon," shows clearly that callidon, a name not occurring elsewhere in the play, and necessary to the dramatic complication, had been used by fletcher in his first version; and when we put the names callidon and cellidée together (she is francisco's belovèd) we are pointed at once to the source of the romantic plot--the _histoire de celidée, thamyre, et calidon_ at the beginning of the second part of the _astrée_ of the marquis d'urfé.[ ] the first part of this voluminous pastoral romance had been published, probably in , in an edition which is lost; but a second edition, dedicated to henri iv, who died may , , appeared that year. some of fletcher's inspiration, as for the name and general characteristic of hylas, was drawn from the first part. the second part was not printed till later in . it would, therefore, appear that fletcher could not have written _monsieur thomas_ before the latter date. on the other hand, as dr. upham[ ] has indicated, the _astrée_ had been read as early as february , , by ben jonson's friend, william drummond, who, on that day, writes about it critically to sir george keith. if the first part had been circulated in manuscript, and read by an englishman, in , it is not at all unlikely that the second part, too, of this most leisurely published romance, which did not get itself all into covers till , had been read in manuscript by many men, french and english, long before its appearance in print, ;--may be by fletcher himself, as early as . or he may have heard the story, as early as that, from some one who had read it. the fact that he alters some of the names, follows the plot but loosely, characterizes the personages not at all as if he had the original before him, and uses none of their diction, would favour the supposition that he is writing from hearsay, or from some second hand and condensed version of the story. no matter what the exact date of composition, _monsieur thomas_ is the one play beside _the faithfull shepheardesse_ from which we may draw conclusions concerning the native tendencies of the young fletcher. the subplot of thomas, concocted with clever ease, and furnished with varied devices appropriate to comic effect--disguisings, mouse-traps, dupers duped, street-frolics and mock sentimental serenades, scaling-ladders, convents, and a blackamoor girl for a decoy-duck,--is conceived in a rollicking spirit and executed in sprightly conversational style. sir adolphus ward says that "as a picture of manners it is excelled by few other elizabethan comedies." i am sorry that i cannot agree; i call it low, or farcical comedy; and though the 'manners' be briskly and realistically imagined, i question their contemporary actuality,--even their dramatic probability. amusing scapegraces like the hero of the title-part have existed in all periods of history; and fathers, who will not have their sons mollycoddles; and squires of dames, like the susceptible hylas. but manners, to be dramatically probable, must reflect the contacts of possible characters in a definite period. and no one can maintain that the contact of these persons with the women of the play is characterized by possibility. or that these manners could, even in the beginning of james i's reign, have characterized a perceptible percentage of actual londoners. thomas, whose humour it is to assume sanctimony for the purpose of vexing his father, and blasphemy for the purpose of teasing his sweetheart--racking that "maiden's tender ears with damns and devils,"--is no more grotesque than many a contemporary embodiment of 'humour.' but what of his contacts with the "charming" mary who "daily hopes his fair conversion," and has "a credit," and "loves where her modesty may live untainted"; and, then, that she may "laugh an hour" admits him to her bed-chamber, having substituted for herself a negro wench? and what of the contacts with his equally "modest" sister, dorothy, who not only talks smut with him and with the "charming" mary, but deems his fornication "fine sport" and would act it if she were a man? i fear that much reading of decadent drama sometimes impairs the critical perception. in making allowance for what masquerades as historical probability one frequently accepts human improbabilities, and condones what should be condemned--even from the dramatic point of view. i have found it so in my own case. with all its picaresque quality, its jovial 'humours' and its racy fun, this play is sheer stage-rubbish: it has no basis in the general life of the class it purports to represent, no basis in actual manners, nor in likelihood or poetry. its basis is in the uncritical and, to say the least, irresponsible taste of a theatre-going rump which enjoyed the spurious localization, and attribution to others, of the imaginings of its own heart. the characters are well grouped; and the spirit of merriment prevails. the reversals of motive and fortune, the recognitions and the dénouement are as excellently and puerilely absurd as could be desired of such an amalgam of romance and farcical intrigue. richard brome, writing in praise of the author for the quarto of , implies that the play was not well received at its "first presenting,"--"when ignorance was judge, and but a few what was legitimate, what bastard knew." that first presenting was between and ; and the few might have cared more for jonson's _every man in his humour_ or _volpone_, or something by shakespeare, or soon afterwards for beaumont and fletcher's _philaster_ or _a king and no king_. but, as brome assures us, "the world's grown wiser now." that is to say, it had learned by "what was legitimate," and could believe that in fletcher's _monsieur thomas_ and the like, "the muses jointly did inspire his raptures only with their sacred fire." but even as transmogrified by d'urfey and others the play did not survive its century. no better example could be afforded of the kind of comedy that fletcher was capable of producing in his earlier period. it shows us with what ability he could dramatize a romantic tale; with what license as a realist imagine and portray an unmoral, when not immoral, semblance of contemporary life. that was either before beaumont had joined forces with him; or when beaumont was not pruning his fancy; was not hanging "plummets" on his wit "to suppress its too luxuriant-growing mightiness," nor persuading him that mirth might subsist "untainted with obscenity," and "strength and sweetness" and "high choice of brain" be "couched in every line." i am not claiming too much for beaumont. in his later work as in his earlier there is the frank animalism, at times, of elizabethan blood and humour; but one may search in vain his parts of the joint-plays as well as his youthful _knight of the burning pestle_ and those portions of _the woman-hater_ which fletcher did not touch, for the jacobean salaciousness of fletcher's _monsieur thomas_ and the carnal cynicism which lurks beneath the pastoral garb of innocence even in _the faithfull shepheardesse_;--characteristics that find utterance again, untrammeled, in the dramas written after the younger poet was dead,--and fletcher could no longer, as in those earlier days, wisely submit each birth to knowing beaumont e're it did come forth, working againe untill _he_ said 'twas fit; and make him the sobriety of his wit.[ ] during the years of beaumont's apprenticeship to poetry cloaked as law things had changed but little in his world of the inner temple. in its parliament, sir edward coke, judicial, intrepid, and devout is still most potent. the chamber, lodging, and rooms which his father, mr. justice beaumont, and his uncle henry had built and occupied near to ram alley in the north end of fuller's rents are still held by richard daveys, who as treasurer moved into them in . dr. richard masters is still master of the temple; and in the church, where francis was obliged to receive the sacrament at stated times, he, sitting perhaps by his uncle henry's tomb, would hear the assistant ministers, richard evans and william crashaw. the sacred place was still the refuge of outlaws from whitefriars who claimed the privilege of sanctuary. if beaumont wished to steal, after hours, into the alsatia beyond fuller's rents, he must skirt or propitiate in as in the same cerberus at the gates,--william knight, the glover. outside awaited him the hospitality of the mitre inn, or of barrow at the "cat and fiddle," or of the slovenly anthony gibbes in his cook's shop of ram alley.[ ] footnotes: [ ] the king's letter to salisbury (undated, but of ). gardiner, _hist. engl._ - , ii, - . [ ] this much more distinguished favour has been overlooked by thorndike and other critics. but it is possible that shaw, _knights of england_, i, , may be confounding him with another carr, a favourite of queen anne's. [ ] dyce, _b. and f._, vol. i, p. . [ ] act iv, , - . [ ] _cf._, lazarillo's _farewells_, act iii, . [ ] see chap. xxiv, below. [ ] prologue, for a revival, in , of _the woman-hater_, which d'avenant mistakenly attributes to fletcher. [ ] reasons for dating an earlier version of the play about are given by oliphant, _engl. studien_, xv, - , and thorndike, _infl. of b. and f._, - . in its present form, however, the play dates later than jonson's _epicoene_, . see gayley, _rep. eng. com._, iii, _introd._, § . [ ] i heartily concur with w. w. greg's interpretation, _pastoral poetry and pastoral drama_, p. . [ ] see fleay, _chron. eng. dr._, i, , and thorndike, _infl. of b. and f._, . [ ] folio, , 'mortallitie'; a misprint. [ ] see chap. xxiii, below. [ ] see guskar, _anglia_, xxviii, xxix. [ ] stiefel, _zeitschr. f. vergl. litt._, xii ( ), ; _engl. stud._, xxxvi; hatcher, _anglia_, feb. ; and macaulay, _c. h. l._, vi, . [ ] _french influence in english literature_, pp. , . [ ] adapted from cartwright in the _commendatory poems_, folio of _b. and f._, . [ ] details in inderwick, _op. cit._, vols. i and ii, passim. chapter vii the "banke-side" and the period of the partnership as we shall presently see, beaumont during his career in london retained his connection with the inner temple, which would be his club; and it may be presumed that up to or , his residence alternated between the temple and his brother's home of grace-dieu. about , however, he was surely collaborating with his friend, fletcher, in the composition of plays. and we may conjecture that, in that or the previous year, our castor and pollux were established in those historic lodgings in southwark where, as aubrey, writing more than half a century later, tells us, they lived in closest intimacy. that gossipy chronicler records the obvious in his "there was a wonderfull consimility of phansey between him [beaumont] and mr. jo. fletcher, which caused that dearnesse of friendship between them";[ ] but when he proceeds "they lived together on the banke-side, not far from the play-house, both batchelors; lay together (from sir james hales, etc.); had one wench in the house between them, which they did so admire, the same cloaths and cloake, etc., between them," we feel that so far as inferences are concerned the account is to be taken with at least a morsel of reserve. aubrey was not born till after both beaumont and fletcher were dead; and, as dyce pertinently remarks, "perhaps aubrey's informant (sir james hales) knowing his ready credulity, purposely overcharged the picture of our poets' domestic establishment." to inquire too closely into gossip were folly; but it is only fair to recall that sixty years after fletcher's death, popular tradition was content with conferring the "wench," exclusively upon him. oldwit, in shadwell's play of _bury-fair_ ( ) says: "i myself, simple as i stand here, was a wit in the last age. i was created ben jonson's son, in the apollo. i knew fletcher, my friend fletcher, and his maid joan; well, i shall never forget him: i have supped with him at his house on the banke-side; he loved a fat loin of pork of all things in the world; and joan his maid had her beer-glass of sack; and we all kissed her, i' faith, and were as merry as passed."[ ] it is hardly necessary, in any case, to surmise with those who sniff up improprieties that the admirable services of the original "wench," whether joan or another, far exceeded the roasting of pork and the burning of sack for her two "batchelors." to the years and may be assigned with some show of confidence beaumont and fletcher's first significant romantic dramas _the coxcombe_ and _philaster_. the former was acted by the children of her majesty's revels, i think before july , . if at blackfriars, before january , ; if at whitefriars, after january . there are grounds for believing that it was the play upon which fletcher and beaumont were engaged in the country when beaumont wrote a letter, justly famous, probably toward the end of , to ben jonson; and, since the play was not well received, that it was one of the unsuccessful comedies which as dryden says preceded _philaster_. _philaster_ was acted at the globe and blackfriars by the king's men, for the first time, it would appear, between december , and july , . my reasons in detail for thus dating both of these dramas are given later. but a word about the _letter to ben jonson_ may be said here. [illustration: the temple from ralph agas's map of london, about ] it was first printed at the end of a play called _the nice valour_ in the folio of . owing to a careless acceptance of the rubric prefixed to it by the publishers of that folio, historians have ordinarily dated its composition at too early a period. the poem itself mentions "sutcliffe's wit," referring to three controversial tracts of the dean of exeter, printed in ; but beaumont might jibe at the dean's expense for years after . the rubic inscribed a generation after the death of both our dramatists, and therefore of but secondary importance, tells us that the _letter_ was "written, before he [beaumont] and master fletcher came to london, with two of the precedent comedies, then not finish'd, which deferr'd their merry meetings at the mermaid." we know that the young men had been in london for years before . if the rubric has any meaning whatever, it is merely that the customary convivialities at the mermaid, as described in the _letter_, had been interrupted by a visit to the country during which they were finishing two of the comedies which precede _the nice valour_ in the folio; and it indicates a date not earlier than , for the writing of the letter, and probably not later than july . for only three of the fifteen plays which appear in the folio before _the nice valour_ could have been completed during the career of beaumont as a dramatist, and none of the three antedates . in two of these beaumont had no hand: _the captaine_, which may have been composed as late as , and _beggars' bush_,[ ] which shows the collaboration of massinger, but fletcher's part of which may have been written in . the only one of the "precedent comedies" in which we may be sure that beaumont collaborated is _the coxcombe_. if, as i believe, it was acted first between december and july [ ] it may well have been written in the country during the latter half of , while the plague rate was exceptionally high in london. both _beggars' bush_ and _the coxcombe_ abound in rural scenes; but the latter especially, in scenes that might have been suggested by grace-dieu and its neighborhood. the rubric prefixed to the _letter_ by the publishers is of negligible authority. the 'me' and 'us' of the _letter_ itself do not necessarily designate fletcher as the companion of beaumont's rustication: they stand at one time for country-folk; at another for the mermaid circle, jonson, chapman, fletcher, probably shakespeare, drayton, cotton, donne, hugh holland, tom coryate, richard martin, selden (of beaumont's inner temple), and other famous wits and poets; at another for jonson and beaumont alone. the date of the poem must be determined from internal evidence. it is written with the careless ease of long-standing intimacy. it is of a genial, jocose, and fairly mature, epistolary style. it betrays the literary assurance of one whose reputation is already established. beaumont is in temporary banishment from london, for lack of funds--therefore, considerably later than , when he was presumably well off; for in that year he had just come into a quarter of his brother, sir henry's, private estate. he longs now for the stimulus of the merry meetings in bread-street, as one whose wit has been sharpened by them for a long time past: methinks the little wit i had is lost since i saw you; for wit is like a rest held up at tennis, which men do the best with the best gamesters; ... up here in leicestershire "the countrey gentlemen begin to allow my wit for dry bobs." "in this warm shine" of our hay-making season, soberly deferring to country knights, listening to hoary family-jests, drinking water mixed with claret-lees, "i lye and dream of your full mermaid wine": what things have we seen done at the mermaid! heard words that have been so nimble, and so full of subtill flame, as if that every one from whence they came had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, and had resolv'd to live a foole, the rest of his dull life. then, when there hath been thrown wit able enough to justifie the town for three daies past,--wit that might warrant be for the whole city to talk foolishly till that were cancell'd,--and, when that was gone, we left an aire behind us, which alone was able to make the two next companies right witty; though but downright fooles, more wise. when he remembers all this, he "needs must cry," but one thought of ben jonson cheers him: only strong destiny, which all controuls, i hope hath left a better fate in store for me thy friend, than to live ever poore, banisht unto this home. fate once againe bring me to thee, who canst make smooth and plaine the way of knowledge for me, and then i, who have no good but in thy company protest it will my greatest comfort be to acknowledge all i have to flow from thee. ben, when these scaenes are perfect, we'll taste wine; i'll drink thy muses health, thou shalt quaff mine. the _letter_ was written after beaumont's muse had produced something worthy of a toast from jonson,--the _woman-hater_ and the _knight_, for instance (both marked by wit and by the discipline of jonson); but not later than the end of , for during most of jonson was traveling in france as governor to sir walter raleigh's "knavishly inclined" son; and after february of that year beaumont wrote so far as i venture to conclude but one drama, _the scornful ladie_; and that does not precede this _letter_ in the folio of ; is not printed in that folio at all. nor was this _letter_ of a disciple written later than the great beaumont-fletcher plays of - , for then jonson was praising beaumont for "writing better" than he himself. if there is any truth at all in the rubric to the _letter_, the "scenes" of which beaumont speaks as not yet "perfect" were of _the coxcombe_; and evidence which i shall, in the proper place, adduce convinces me that that was first acted before march , , perhaps before january . the play would, then, have been written about the end of . i do not wonder that, as the prologue in the first folio tells us, it was "condemned by the ignorant multitude," not only because of its length, a fault removed in the editions which we possess, but because the larger part of the play is written by fletcher, and in his most inartistic, and irrational, licentious vein. beaumont, though admitted to the partnership, had not yet succeeded in hanging "plummets" on his friend's luxuriance. he contented himself with contributing to a theme of boccaccian cuckoldry the subplot of how ricardo, drunk, loses his betrothed, and finds her again and is forgiven,--a little story that contains all the poignancy of sorrow and poppy of romance and poetry of innocence that make the comedy readable and tolerable. as to the first production of the _philaster_ a word must be said here, because the event marks the earliest association, concerning which we have any assurance, of the young dramatists with shakespeare. until about they appear to have written for the paul's boys, who acted, probably in their singing-school, until ; and for the queen's revels' children who, under various managements, had been occupying richard burbadge's theatre of blackfriars since . their association with the paul's boys would of itself have brought them into touch with other paul's dramatists, dekker, webster, middleton, and chapman. in their association with the queen's revels' children they had been thrown closely together with chapman again, with jonson, and with john day, all of whom wrote for blackfriars; and with marston, who not only wrote plays for the children but had a financial interest in the company. some of these dramatists,--jonson, for instance, and webster,--had occasionally written for shakespeare's company during these years; but we have no proof that beaumont and fletcher had any connection with the king's players of shakespeare's company, as long as the children's companies continued in their usual course at st. paul's singing-school and blackfriars. after , however, the paul's boys were on the wane. perhaps they are to be indentified with the new children of the king's revels, and an occupancy of whitefriars, in ; but that clue soon disappears. and as to the queen's revels' children, we find that in april they were suppressed for ridiculing royalty upon the stage.[ ] their manager, henry evans, to whom with three others richard burbadge had let blackfriars in , now sought to be set free from the contract; and in august , the burbadges (richard and cuthbert), shakespeare, heming, condell, and slye of the king's company, took over the lease which still had many years to run.[ ] shakespeare's company had been acting at the burbadges' theatre of the globe since ,--as the lord chamberlain's till ; after that, as his majesty's servants. now shakespeare's company took charge of blackfriars, as well; and, under their management, for about a month between december , and january , the queen's revels' children, being reinstated in royal favour, resumed their acting at blackfriars. on the latter date, the children as reorganized, opened at whitefriars under the management of philip rossiter and others; and among the first plays presented by them, there, were jonson's _epicoene_ and, i believe, beaumont and fletcher's _the coxcombe_. but, in the process of readjustment at blackfriars, our young partners in dramatic production must have been drawn into professional relationship with the members of shakespeare's company and undoubtedly with shakespeare himself. from the first quarto of _philaster, or love lies a-bleeding_, published in , we learn that this, the earliest of their great tragicomedies, was acted not by the queen's revels' children, but by the king's players, and at the globe. from the second quarto, of , we learn that it was acted also at blackfriars: it may indeed have been first presented there. our earliest record of the play shows that it was in existence before october , . _the scourge of folly_ by john davies of hereford, entered for publication on that date, contains an epigram to "the well deserving mr. john fletcher," which runs-- _love lies a-bleeding_, if it should not prove her utmost art to show why it doth love. thou being the _subject_ (now), it raignes upon, raign'st in _arte, judgement, and invention:_ _for this i love thee; and can doe no lesse_ _for thine as faire, as faithfull_ sheepheardesse. since there is nothing in _philaster, or love lies a-bleeding_, to indicate a date of composition earlier than , and since this is the first of beaumont and fletcher's dramas to be performed by shakespeare's company, we may be fairly certain that the performance followed the readjustment of affairs between the globe and blackfriars in august of that year. now, there had been regulations for years past of the city authorities and the privy council in accordance with which theatre in the city proper and the suburbs of surrey and middlesex were closed whenever the number of deaths by plague exceeded a certain limit per week. in and after this limit was set at forty; and it is probable that, in accordance with a still older regulation, the ban was not lifted until it was evident that the decrease in deaths was more than temporary.[ ] that actors sometimes performed at court while the plague rate was still prohibitive in and about the city, does not by any means justify us in assuming that they were ever allowed at such times to play in theatres thronged by the public.[ ] between august , and october , , the only continuous period in which plays might have been presented by shakespeare's company at the globe or blackfriars, without violating the plague law, was from december , to july , ; and we therefore conclude that it was during those months that beaumont and fletcher's _philaster_ was first acted. the only other abatement of the plague that might have given promise of continuance was between march and , ; but on march the rate of deaths rose again above forty, and it is not likely that the authorities would have permitted the theatres to resume operations during those three weeks.[ ] [illustration: the globe theatre, with st. paul's in the background from vischer's long view of london, ] with _philaster_ beaumont and fletcher leaped into the foremost rank as dramatists. i have so much to say of this tragicomedy in my discussion of the authorship of its successive scenes, that but a word may here be said concerning the reasons for its success. hitherto, practically shakespeare alone had written for the king's servants romantic comedies of a serious cast; and they were generally based upon some well-known story. here was a comedy of serious kind with a romantic and original plot, by authors comparatively new to the general public, written in a style refreshingly unhackneyed, and played in the best theatres and by the best company that london possessed. the hamlet-like hero seeking his kingdom and his princess--the daughter of the usurper--and, through misunderstandings and misadventures, tragic apprehensions, swiftly succeeding crises, bloodshed, riot, and surprising reversals of fortune, attaining both birth-right and love; the pathetic innocence and nobly futile devotion of his girl-page; the triangular affair of the affections; the humour of the secondary characters; the allurements of spectacle and masque; the atmosphere of the palace, heroic,--of the country, idyllic,--of mile-end and its roarers of the borough, somewhat burlesque,--the diapason of the poetry from bourdon to flute,--all combined to win immediate and long continuing favour, both of the city and the court. beaumont had, here, become to some extent "the sobriety of fletcher's wit"; he had restrained "his quick free will,"--not, however, so much by pruning what fletcher wrote as by admitting him to but one-quarter of the composition. something of the intrigue, the bustle, the spectacle, the easy conversation are fletcher's; and his, such sexual vulgarity--very little--as stamps a scene or two. the rest is beaumont's. as in the two great romantic dramas which followed, and in beaumont's subplot of _the coxcombe_, the story is of the authors' own invention. it is not necessary to trace the girl-page and her devotion to the diana of montemayor, or to bandello, or even to sidney's _arcadia_. the girl-page was a commonplace of fiction at the time; and the differences in the conduct of this part of the story are greater than the resemblances to any one of those sources. much more evidently is the devoted euphrasia-bellario a younger sister of shakespeare's viola. but, in general, external influences bear upon details of character, situation, and device, not upon the construction of the play as a whole. toward the end of or early in , the partner-dramatists gave shakespeare's company another play,--in many respects their greatest,--_the maides tragedy_. here, again, the novelty of the plot attracted, in a degree heightened even beyond that of _philaster_. the terrible dilemma of the duped husband between allegiance to the king who has wronged him and assertion of his marital honour, the astounding effrontery of his adulterous wife, her gradual acquirement of a soul and her attempted expiation of lust by murder, the mingled nobility and unreason of her brother and her husband, and the pathetic devotion and self-provoked death of the hero's deserted sweetheart, will be sufficiently discussed elsewhere. this was the highly seasoned fare that the jacobean public desiderated, served in courses, if not more novel, at any rate of more startling variety than even shakespeare had offered--whose devices, restrained within limit, these young dramatists were exaggerating to the _n_-th degree. as four-fifths of the composition of this tragedy was beaumont's, so, too, we may be sure, four-fifths of the conception and invention of the plot.[ ] i have remarked, incidentally, that none of the great beaumont-fletcher plots is borrowed. nearly every play, on the other hand, which fletcher contrived alone, or in company with others than beaumont, borrows its plot, major and minor, from some well known source, classical, historical, french, spanish, or italian. mr. g. c. macaulay states the bare truth, when he says that "in constructive faculty, at least, beaumont was markedly superior to his colleague." here there are traces, indeed, of external suggestion: something of aspatia's career in relation to amintor, who has deserted her, may be an echo of parthenia's in the _arcadia_; and the quarrel of melantius and amintor reminds one of that between brutus and cassius in _julius cæsar_; but the plot has no definite source. the characterization and the poetry, "the strength and sweetness, and high choice of brain" are beaumont's; so, too, the marvelous subtlety of dramatic device. save in that one-fifth to which fletcher was admitted. there fletcher, in beauty and in tragic power, is giving us the best that he has so far produced: over-histrionic, to be sure, but of victorious excellence. and that one-fifth, for the first and almost only time in fletcher's career as a dramatist is "untainted by obscenity." in an anecdote preserved by fuller, who was seventeen years of age when fletcher died, we may fancy that we catch a glimpse of our bachelors at work upon this very play. the dramatists "meeting once in a tavern to contrive the rude draught of a tragedy, fletcher undertook to _kill the king_ therein; whose words being overheard by a listener (though his loyalty not to be blamed herein) he was accused of high treason, till the mistake soon appearing, that the plot was only against a drammatick and scenical king, all wound off in merriment."[ ] history and fable have fastened similar stories upon famous men; but if this one is authentic it undoubtedly refers to the writing of _the maides tragedy_, for, as we shall see, the killing of its king was one of the few scenes contributed by fletcher. and the story adds colour to the ridicule which beaumont in had heaped upon the intelligencer that lives in ale-houses and taverns; ... "and brings informations picked out of broken words in men's common talk." the connection thus formed with shakespeare's company was continued by beaumont, at any rate, until , and by fletcher as long as he lived. before the end of the king's players had presented to the public the last of this trio of dramatic masterpieces, _a king and no king_. in terrible fascination, this story of a man and woman struggling against love because they think they are brother and sister is as powerful as _the maides tragedy_. in poetry and in characterization, as well as in humour, it is grander than _philaster_. but in beauty and pathos its subject did not permit it to equal either; and in dénouement, tragicomic and perforce somewhat strained, it is surpassed by the _tragedy_. of its defects as well as merits, i have so much to say later, that i must refrain now. the plot is as striking an example of constructive invention as those that had preceded. some of the names are to be found in xenophon's _cyropædeia_ (books iii-vi) and in herodotus (book vii); and hints for situation and characterization may have been derived from these sources, and the passion of arbaces for his supposed sister from fauchet's account of thierry of france,--but such indebtedness is naught.[ ] three-quarters of the play is beaumont's; and that large portion includes the majestic passion and conflict, the tragic irony and suspense, of _a king and no king_; in fact,--the whole serious plot, and part of the humorous by-play. fletcher's slight contribution is principally of complementary scenes and low comedy. in these the curb upon his fanciful rhetoric and hilarious wit has been somewhat relaxed. in the character of the roaring bessus, beaumont himself gives rein with the _élan_ of the comic artist; for the bessus of beaumont's scenes would have gone on a strike if he had not been suffered to "talk bawdy" between brags. beaumont for all his sobriety and clean mirth was not a prude; and he wasn't writing the psalms of robert wisdom. this play was as popular as those that had preceded. the king's players acted it at court in december of the year in which it had been first performed. and between october and march , assisting in the festivities for the marriage of the princess elizabeth with the elector palatine, they presented before royalty all three of the great beaumont-fletcher plays. these were numbers in a series of thirteen that included, as well, the _much ado_, _tempest_, _winter's tale_, _merry wives_, _othello_, and _julius caesar_ of shakespeare. they also presented about the same time, in a series of six acted before the king (including _i henry iv_, _much ado_, and _the alchemist_), one of fletcher's comedies of manners and intrigue, _the captaine_, and a play utterly lost, called _cardenna_, in which it is supposed that fletcher collaborated with the master himself. that our dramatists, however, after their association was formed with shakespeare and his company, by no means severed their connection with the company for which they had written in their younger days, the children of the queen's revels, appears from the fact that during the same festivities a tragedy written by them about , _cupid's revenge_, was played by the children three times, and their romantic comedy, _the coxcombe_ twice; and that, in or the beginning of , the children presented at the new blackfriars what was, probably, the last product of the beaumont-fletcher partnership, _the scornful ladie_. neither _cupid's revenge_ nor _the scornful ladie_ (though the latter, at least, was very popular and had a long life upon the stage) is a drama of high distinction. the former is a blend of two stories from sidney's _arcadia_,--the story of the vengeance of cupid upon the princess erona (hidaspes in the play) who caused to be destroyed the images and pictures of cupid, and was consequently doomed to an infatuation for a base-born man,--and the painful career of plangus (leucippus in the play) who, having an intrigue "with a private man's wife" (the monstrous bacha of the play) gave her up to his father, swearing to her virtue, only to find that she should attempt to renew her _liaison_ with him and, failing, scheme his downfall. the dramatists made considerable alteration, and added to the sources. but though the main plot--that of leucippus and bacha--offered magnificent possibilities, they fail of realization. beaumont wrote about one-half of the play, and it is in his scenes that whatever there is of moral struggle and sublimity, of pathetic irony and of poetry, appears. _the scornful ladie_, which i assign to this late date partly because of an allusion to the negotiations for a spanish marriage, - , is principally of fletcher's composition. it is of the type of his earlier and later comedies of intrigue. like most of them it is extremely well contrived for presentation upon the stage and it was, as i have said, most successful. the merit of the play lies, not in any element of poetry or vital romance, but in humorous and realistic characterization, easy dialogue, and clever device. the dramatists deserve all credit for the ingenious invention, for here again there is no known source. beaumont's contribution, about one-third, is distinguished by the observation and the _vis comica_ already displayed in the _woman-hater_ and the _knight of the burning pestle_ and _king and no king_. but he is not dominating the details. when they wrote a comedy of intrigue, fletcher sat at the head of the table. it is possible, however, that some of the "rules and standard wit" which francis was so soon to leave to his friend "in legacy" were here applied; for the play is less exuberantly reckless in tone than several which fletcher wrote alone. the three masterpieces of romantic drama, beaumont controlled in composition, and revised. of this play he did not finish the revision. it was written about or , after he had settled in the country with his wife, and not long before his death.[ ] footnotes: [ ] aubrey's _brief lives_, ed. clark, i, - . [ ] dyce, _b. and f._, i, xxvi, _n_. [ ] based upon dekker's _bellman of london_, . acted at court, . [ ] see chapter xxv, below. [ ] despatch of the french ambassador in london, april , , quoted by collier, _hist. eng. dram. poetry_, i, . [ ] answer of heming and burbadge to kirkham's complaint, , _greenstreet papers_ in fleay, _hist. stage_, p. . [ ] see murray, _eng. dram. comp._, ii, - . [ ] as suggested by thorndike, _infl. b. and f. on shakespeare_, - . see murray, _engl. dram. companies_, ii, . [ ] further discussion of the _philaster_ date will be found in chapter xxv, below. [ ] see chapter xxv, below. [ ] dyce, as above, _b. and f._, i, xxxii. [ ] see alden's edition, p. (_belles lettres_), and thorndike's citation of fauchet, _les antiquitez et histoires gauloises, etc._ ( ), _infl. of b. and f._, p. . [ ] see below, chapter xxvi. chapter viii relations with shakespeare, jonson, and others in the theatrical world though the young poets did not begin to write for the king's men before , it is impossible that they should not have met shakespeare, face to face, earlier in the century, whether at the mermaid in bread-street, cheapside, where perhaps befel those "wit-combates betwixt him and ben jonson," or about the globe in southwark or the theatre in blackfriars,--which, though leased to the revels' children, belonged to shakespeare's friend richard burbadge,--or at the lodgings with mountjoy the tiremaker, on the corner of silver and monkwell streets, where the master had lived from to , and where, for anything we know to the contrary, he continued to live for several years more.[ ] they would pass the house on their way from the bankside north to st. giles, cripplegate, when they wished to observe what juby and the rest of the prince's players were putting on at the fortune, or on their way back to take ale with jonson at his house in blackfriars, or to follow nat. field or carey, acting in one of their own or jonson's plays at the private theatre close by. that the young poets, even during their discipleship to jonson were familiar with the poetry and dramatic methods of shakespeare the most cursory reader will observe. their plays from the first, whether jointly or singly written, abound in reminiscences of his work. but more particularly is he echoed by beaumont. the echo is sometimes of playful parody, as in the "huffing part" which the grocer's prentice of the _knight of the burning pestle_ steals from hotspur:-- by heaven, methinks it were an easie leap to pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon, or dive into the bottom of the sea, where never fathome line toucht any ground, and pluck up drownèd honour from the lake of hell; or as in _the woman-hater_, where it looks very much as if this stylist of twenty-two was poking fun at the circumlocutions of shakespeare's helena in _all's well that ends well_. labouring to say "two days" in accents suitable to a monarch's ear, she had evolved: ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring their fiery torches his diurnal ring, ere twice in murk and accidental damp moist hesperus hath quenched his sleepy lamp; or four and twenty times the pilot's glass hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, what is infirm from your sound parts shall fly. in terms strikingly reminiscent of this, beaumont's courtier valore instructs the gourmand of _the woman-hater_, how to address royalty: you must not talk to him [the duke] as you doe to an ordinary man, honest plain sence, but you must wind about him. for example: if he should aske you what o'clock it is, you must not say, "if it please your grace, 'tis nine"; but thus, "thrice three aclock, so please my sovereign"; or thus, "look how many muses there doth dwell upon the sweet banks of the learned well, and just so many stroaks the clock hath struck." and when the duke asks lazarillo, thus instructed, "how old are you?" we can imagine with what mirth the graceless beaumont puts into his mouth: full eight and twenty several almanacks have been compiled all for several years, since first i drew this breath; four prentiships have i most truly served in this world; and eight and twenty times hath phoebus' car run out his yearly course since--. duke. i understand you, sir. lucio. how like an ignorant poet he talks! is it possible that associating with the literary school of the day, his brother john, drayton, chapman, and ben jonson, the young satirist, here vents something like spleen? or is this purely dramatic utterance? like parodies of phrases in _hamlet_, _antony and cleopatra_, and other shakespearean plays ripple the stream of beaumont's humour. they are, however, always good-natured. but if beaumont laughs when shakespeare exaggerates, he also pays him in his later plays the tribute of imitation in numerous poetic borrowings of serious lines and telling situations: as where the king in _philaster_ tries to pray but, like the kneeling claudius, despairs-- how can i looke to be heard of gods that must be just, praying upon the ground i hold by wrong?-- or "in the hamlet-like situation and character of philaster" himself; as, for instance, when to the usurping king who has said of him, "sure hees possest," philaster retorts: yes, with my fathers spirit. its here, o king, a dangerous spirit! now he tells me, king, i was a kings heire, bids me be a king, and whispers to me, these are all my subjects. tis strange he will not let me sleepe, but dives in to my fancy, and there gives me shapes that kneele and doe me service, cry me king: but i'le suppresse him: he's a factious spirit, and will undoe me. the resemblance of the controversy between melantius and amintor to that of brutus with cassius has already been noticed; and everyone will acknowledge the resemblance of the "quizzical reserve" of his scornful lady to olivia's, of aspatia's melancholy in the _maides tragedy_ to ophelia's, and of bellario's situation in _philaster_ to that of viola in _twelfth night_.[ ] this last play, indeed, acted, as we have seen, in the middle temple when beaumont was a freshman in the inns of court, affects beaumont's method and style, more than any other save the _pericles_ ( , or january to may ), which prepared the way for the more important later romantic dramas of shakespeare himself as well as for those of beaumont and fletcher. during the years when shakespeare's company was producing their romantic dramas, they were breathing, with shakespeare, burbadge, and heming, the atmosphere of the globe and blackfriars; and, after shakespeare had taken up a more continuous residence at stratford, in , fletcher, at any rate, not only kept in touch with the remaining shareholders and actors of the globe but with the master himself, and conversed and wrote with him on various occasions. these may have fallen either at the new place at stratford, where the now wealthy country gentleman was wont to entertain his friends, or when shakespeare came to town--as in may . at that time his former host, mountjoy's, son-in-law was suing the tiremaker for his wife's unpaid dower, and "william shakespeare of stratford upon avon in the countye of warwicke, gentleman" who had helped to make the marriage, was summoned as a witness.[ ] or between july and november of that year, when the "base fellow" kirkham was bringing against burbadge and heming a suit concerning the profits of the blackfriars theatre, in which as a shareholder shakespeare, too, must have been interested; and when christopher brooke of the pastoral poets in beaumont's inns of court was of the "councell" for shakespeare's company.[ ] or in march , when shakespeare was negotiating for the house in blackfriars which he bought that month from henry walker. in the latter year the king's players performed two plays in the writing of which there is reason to believe that shakespeare and fletcher participated: _the two noble kinsmen_, first published as "by the memorable worthies of their time, mr. john fletcher and mr. william shakespeare, gentlemen," in a quarto of ; and a lost play licensed for publication as the "_history of cardenio_ by fletcher and shakespeare," in . of the former, critics are generally agreed that fletcher wrote about a dozen scenes and that shakespeare in all probability wrote others. maybe, however, fletcher, and perhaps later massinger, merely revised and completed shakespeare's original draft of the play left in the company's hands. that _the two noble kinsmen_ borrows its antimasque from our friend beaumont's _maske of the inner temple_, which was presented in february , may be construed as indicating that he, too, still had some connection with shakespeare's company. but it is more likely that he was now happily married and settled in kent, and didn't care what they did with his plays. probably the shakespeare-fletcher play was acted soon after beaumont's, and in the same year. with regard to the authorship of the _cardenio_ we have nothing but the publisher's statement; but we know that the play was written after the appearance, in , of the story upon which it is based, in shelton's english translation of the first part of _don quixote_; and that it was acted at court by shakespeare's and fletcher's company in may and june . the partnership of fletcher and shakespeare in the writing of these two plays has been questioned, but as to their collaboration in a third, _henry viii_, there is not much possibility of doubt. in the conception of the leading characters shakespeare is present, and in many of their finest lines, and specifically in at least five scenes; while fletcher appears in practically all the rest. the play was acted by the king's men at the globe on june , , and was included as shakespeare's by his judicious editors and intimate friends, heming and condell, in the folio of . [illustration: ben jonson from the miniature belonging to mr. evelyn shirley] during these years of fruition the friendship with jonson, who was writing at the time for both the companies to which our young dramatists gave their plays, continued apparently without interruption. it is attested by commendatory verses written by beaumont for _the silent woman_, which was acted early in , and by verses of both fletcher and beaumont prefixed to jonson's tragedy of _catiline_, published in . on the latter occasion beaumont commends jonson's contempt for "the wild applause of common people," and declares that he is "three ages yet from understood;" while fletcher even more enthusiastically avers,-- thy labours shall outlive thee; and, like gold stampt for continuance, shall be current where there is a sun, a people, or a year. the generous and graceful response of ben to the reverence of the younger of the twain appears in a tribute the date of which is uncertain, but which was included by the author among his _epigrams_, entered in the stationers' registers, . _to francis beaumont._ how i doe love thee, beaumont and thy muse, that unto me dost such religion use! how i doe feare my selfe, that am not worth the least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth! at once thou mak'st me happie, and unmak'st; and giving largely to me, more thou tak'st. what fate is mine, that so it selfe bereaves? what art is thine, that so thy friend deceives? when even there, where most thou praisest mee, for writing better, i must envie thee. since jonson was not given to indiscriminate laudation of his contemporaries in dramatic production, we may surmise that this tribute to the art of beaumont follows rather than precedes the appearance of _philaster_, and of perhaps both _the maides tragedy_ and _a king and no king_. and whether there is any basis or not for the tradition handed down by dryden[ ] that beaumont was "so accurate a judge of plays that ben jonson, while he lived, submitted all his writings to his censure, and, 'tis thought, used his judgment in correcting, if not contriving, all his plots,"--there is here evidence, sufficiently convincing, of the high esteem in which "the least indulgent thought" and the large "giving" of the brilliant and independent gentleman-dramatist were held by the acknowledged classicist and dictator of the stage. from the various sources already indicated and from contemporary testimony, later to be cited, it is easy to derive a definite conception of the world of dramatists and actors in which beaumont and fletcher moved. they knew, and were properly appraised by, drayton, jonson, chapman, shakespeare, webster, dekker, heywood, massinger, field, daborne, marston, day, and middleton,--with all of whom they were associated either in combats of poetry and wit or in the presentation of plays at blackfriars, whitefriars, or the globe. among actors their acquaintance included field, taylor, carey, and others of the queen's revels' children, and richard burbadge, heming, condell, ostler, cook, and lowin of the king's company. in what esteem they were held during these years we have evidence in the verses already quoted from drayton, jonson, chapman, and field. in the generous dedication of _the white devil_ by john webster, in , we find them ranked with the best: "detraction," says he, "is the sworne friend to ignorance. for mine owne part i have ever truly cherisht my good opinion of other mens worthy labours, especially of that full and haightened stile of maister _chapman_: the labour'd and understanding workes of maister _jonson_: the no lesse worthy composures of the both worthily excellent maister _beamont_ and maister _fletcher_: and lastly (without wrong last to be named), the right happy and copious industry of m. _shake-speare_, m. _decker_, and m. _heywood_, wishing what i write may be read by their light: protesting that, in the strength of mine owne judgement, i know them so worthy, that though i rest silent in my owne worke, yet to most of theirs i dare (without flattery) fix that of _martiall--non norunt, haec monumenta mori_." footnotes: [ ] wallace, _new shakespeare discoveries, harper's maga._, march, . [ ] for these and other reminiscences of shakespeare, see alden's edition of beaumont (_belles lettres series_), xvi; macaulay's _beaumont_; leonhardt in _anglia_, viii, ; oliphant in _engl. studien_, xiv, - , koeppel's _quellen-studien_ in _münchener beiträge_, xi. [ ] wallace, _new shakespeare discoveries_ (_harper's maga._, march, ). [ ] see the _greenstreet papers_, in fleay, _hist. stage_, , . [ ] _an essay of dramatick poesie._ chapter ix the "masque of the inner temple": the pastoralists, and other contemporaries at the inns of court of royal patronage we have had evidence in the fact that during the festivities of october , to march , , no fewer than five of the beaumont-fletcher plays were presented at court, by the king's servants and the queen's revels' children,--some of them two and even three times. our poets are accordingly regarded by the great as dramatists of like distinction with shakespeare, jonson, and chapman, the authors of most of the other plays then performed. of the esteem in which beaumont individually was held, not only at court but by his fellows of the inner temple, evidence is afforded by the fact that when they were called upon, in company with the gentlemen of gray's inn, to celebrate the marriage, february , , of the princess elizabeth to the elector palatine, with a masque, they did not, like the middle temple and lincoln's inn, go out of their own group of poets for a dramatist, but chose him. the selection was but natural: he had already contributed to _the maides tragedy_ a masque of the very essence of dreams, executed with singular grace and melody. the subject decided upon for the present gorgeous spectacle was the "marrying of the thames to the rhine." the structure and stage machinery were invented by inigo jones, who was, also, stage architect for chapman's rival masque of _plutus_, presented on february , by the gentlemen of the middle temple and lincoln's inn. to the success of beaumont's production, that patron of masques, sir francis bacon, then his majesty's solicitor-general, contributed in large measure: "you, sir francis bacon, especially," says the author in his dedication of the published copy, "as you did then by your countenance and loving affection advance it, so let your good word grace it and defend it, which is able to add value to the greatest and least matters." in a contemporary letter of john chamberlain to mistris carleton, bacon is called "the chief contriver" of the spectacle; an attribution which leads us to infer that he "advanced" it not solely by "loving affection" but by funds for the tremendous expense. for, as we have already observed, in other cases, as of the masque of flowers, presented for a noble marriage in by gray's inn, bacon is not only patron but purse, permitting no one to share expenses with him: "sir francis bacon," writes chamberlain, "prepares a masque to honour this marriage, which will stand him in above £ , ." beaumont's masque, which was to have been performed at whitehall on tuesday evening, the th, had ill fortune on the first attempt. the gentlemen-masquers, desiring to vary their pomp from that of lincoln's inn and the middle temple, which had been on horse-back and in chariots, made a progress by water from winchester-house to whitehall, seated in the king's royal barge, "attended with a multitude of barges and galleys, with all variety of loud music, and several peals of ordnance; and led by two admirals." the royal family witnessed their approach; and, as chamberlain in the letter mentioned above says, "they were receved at the privie stayres: and great expectation theyre was that they shold every way exceed theyre competitors that went before them both in devise daintines of apparell and above all in dauncing (wherein they are held excellent) and esteemed far the properer men: but by what yll planet yt fell out i know not, they came home as they went with out doing anything, the reason whereof i cannot yet learne thoroughly, so but only was that the hall was so full that yt was not possible to avoyde yt or make roome for them; besides that most of the ladies were in the galleries to see them land, and could not get in, but the worst of all was that the king was so wearied and sleepie with sitting up almost two whole nights before that he had no edge to yt. whereupon s{^r} fra: bacon adventured to interest his maiestie that by this disgrace he wold not as yt were burie them quicke; and i heare the king shold aunswer that then they must burie him quicke for he could last no longer, but with all gave them very goode wordes and appointed them to come again on saterday: but the grace of theyre maske is quite gon when theyre apparell hath ben already shewed and theyre devises vented, so that how yt will fall out, god knows, for they are much discouraged, and out of countenance; and the world sayes yt comes to passe after the old proverb--the properer men the worse lucke."[ ] on that day, accordingly, the masque was presented, "in the new banketting-house which for a kind of amends was granted to them"; and with marked success. "at the entrance of their majesties and their highnesses," writes the venetian ambassador to the doge and senate, may , , "one saw the scene, with forests; on a sudden half of it changed to a great mountain with four springs at its feet. the subject of the masque was that jove and juno desiring to honour the wedding and the conjunction of two such noble rivers, the thames and the rhine, sent separately mercury and iris, who appeared; and mercury then praised the couple and the royal house, and wishing to make a ballet suitable to the conjunction of two such streames, he summoned from the four fountains, whence they spring and which are fed by rain, four nymphs who hid among the clouds and the stars that ought to bring rain. they then danced, but iris said that a dance of one sex only was not a live dance. then appeared four cupids, while from the temple of jove, came five idols and they danced with the stars and the nymphs. then iris, after delivering her speech, summoned flora, caused a light rain to fall, and then came a dance of shepherds. then in a moment the other half of the scene changed, and one saw a great plateau with two pavilions, and in them one hundred and fifty knights of olympus,--then more tents, like a host encamped. on the higher ground was the temple of olympian jove all adorned with statues of gold and silver, and served by a number of priests with music and lights in golden candelabra. the knights were in long robes of silk and gold, the priests in gold and silver. the knights danced, their robes being looped up with silver, and their dance represented the introduction of the olympian games into this kingdom. after the ballet was over their majesties and their highnesses passed into a great hall especially built for the purpose, where were long tables laden with comfits and thousands of mottoes. after the king had made the round of the tables everything was in a moment rapaciously swept away."[ ] beaumont had introduced innovations--two antimasques, or "subtle, capricious dances" accompanied by spectacular or comic dumb-show, instead of one, and new and varied characters in each, instead of the stereotyped witches, satyrs, follies, etc. his nymphs, hyades, blind cupids, and half vivified statuas from jove's altar, of the first antimasque occasioned great amusement, so that the king called for them again at the end--"but one of the statuas by that time was undressed." and the may-dance of the second, with its rural characters--pedant, lord and lady of the may, country clown and wench, host and hostess, he-baboon and she-baboon, he-fool and she-fool--stirred laughter and applause that drowned the music. the main masque was stately, and fitly symbolic of the occasion. and one at least of the songs, that sung by the twelve white-robed priests, each playing upon his lute, before jupiter's altar, has the rare lyrical quality of beaumont's best manner,-- shake off your heavy trance, and leap into a dance, such as no mortals use to tread, fit only for apollo to play to, for the moon to lead, and all the stars to follow! we may be sure that the poet received his meed of praise from king, princess, and elector, and from officials of the court--the earl of nottingham, lord privy seal, and bacon, "the chief contriver"; and that he sat high at the "solemn supper in the new marriage-room" which the king made them on the sunday,--maybe "at the same board" with the king who doubtless jested much at the expense of prince charles and his followers. for they had to pay for the feast, "having laid a wager for the charges, and lost it in running at the ring."[ ] if it had not been customary for members of the inns of court to retain connection with the society to which they belonged, even after they had ceased to be in residence, especially if still living in the city, we might infer from his authorship of this masque that beaumont had kept in touch with the inner temple. though he had not professed the law, the quiddities of its parlance enliven various passages of his _woman-hater_ and of the plays which he later wrote with fletcher. whether he kept his name on the books or not, the inner temple was in a social sense his club for life; and it was to "those gentlemen that were his acquaintance there" that the publisher mosely turned for help when searching for his portrait in . the students of his generation were by , many of them, utter barristers, ancients, and benchers: he would affiliate with them; and that he should be acquainted with the "gentlemen who were actors" in his masque goes without saying. this was an occasion of tremendous moment to the members of the allied houses. they were conferring the highest honour upon their poet, and every man on the books of each inn knew him by name and face. one of the fellows, john, afterwards sir john, fenner provides a messenger "to fetch m{^r} beaumont," and advances _li._ "toward the mask business." another, lewis hele is twice paid _li._ toward the same business. from chamberlain's letter, we learn that the passage by water to whitehall "cost them better than three hundred pound,"--from two thousand to twenty-four hundred pounds, in the money of to-day. from the records of the societies for "the th of king james," we find that "the charge in apparell of the actors in that great mask at white-hall was supported" by each society; "the readers at gray's inn being each man assessed at _l._, the ancients, and such as at that time were to be called ancients, at _l._ _s._ apiece, the barristers at _l._ a man, and the students at _s._"; and that on may , , the inner temple is still indebted over and besides the contribution of the house "for the late show and sports ... not so little as _li._,"--that is to say, from seven to nine thousand pounds according our present valuation.[ ] beaumont in his dedication of the quarto (published soon afterwards) to the worthy sir francis bacon and the grave and learned bench of the anciently-allied houses of gray's inn and the inner temple, is addressing friends when he says "yee that spared no time nor travell in the setting forth, ordering, and furnishing of this masque ... will not thinke much now to looke backe upon the effects of your owne care and worke: for that whereof the successe was then doubtfull, is now happily performed and gratiously accepted. and that which you were then to thinke of in straites of time, you may now peruse at leysure." of the gentlemen-masquers, and "the towardly yoong, active, gallant gentlemen of the same houses," who, as their convoy "set forth from winchester-house which was the _rende vous_ towards the court, about seven of the clock at night," on that occasion, the most directly interested in the event would be a group of literary friends of which the central figure was william browne of tavistock. he had been at clifford's inn, one of the preparatory schools for the inner temple, on the other side of fleet street, since about , had migrated to the inner temple in november , and had been admitted a member in march . he was some five years younger than beaumont, and, like beaumont, was at just that time on intimate terms of friendship with the last of the elizabethan pastoralists, michael drayton,--on terms of reciprocal admiration and friendship also with beaumont's dramatic associates, jonson and chapman; and he had himself, in , been engaged for three years upon the composition of the charming _first book_ of his _britannia's pastorals_. in a letter written some years later to a lover of the pastoral,--the translator of tasso's aminta, _henery reynolds, esq.,--of poets and poesy_, and published in , drayton couples william browne so closely with sir john and francis beaumont that even if the trio were not, in various ways, affiliated with the same legal society we could not escape the conclusion that the brothers were near and dear to browne. "then," writes drayton, after mentioning other literary acquaintances,-- then the two beaumonts and my browne arose, my deare companions whom i freely chose my bosome friends; and in their severall wayes, rightly borne poets, and in these last dayes, men of much note, and no lesse nobler parts,-- such as have freely tould to me their hearts, as i have mine to them. we may proceed upon the assumption that it would have been impossible for these bosom friends of drayton, members of the same club, not to have known each other. especially, if we recall that browne was a literary disciple of fletcher in pastoral poetry, between and , and that he had beaumont's masque and poetic fame in mind when, in the dedication of his own _masque of ulysses and circe_, presented by the same society of the inner temple not quite two years later, january , , he said, "if it degenerate in kind from those other our society hath produced, blame yourselves for not seeking to a happier muse." i am at pains thus to emphasize the acquaintance of browne and beaumont, because our acquaintance with the latter is enriched if we may regard him as familiarly associated with the literary coterie of the inns of court. browne and beaumont had friends in common beside drayton, chapman, and jonson. to, and of, elizabeth, the daughter of sir philip sidney, beaumont writes, as we shall presently notice, in terms of admiration and intimacy. and it is for mary, the sister of sir philip, that william browne composes, in or after , the immemorial epitaph, underneath this sable hearse lies the subject of all verse: sydney's sister, pembroke's mother; death, ere thou hast slain another, fair, and learn'd, and good as shee time shall throw his dart at thee. to this pembroke, william herbert, third earl, browne dedicates the _second book_ of the _pastorals_, , which contains the beautiful tribute to sidney and his _arcadia_; and pembroke shows his regard for the young poet by appointing him tutor to a wealthy ward, and later taking him into the service of his own family at wilton. in john davies of hereford wrote the third eclogue appended to browne's _shepherd's pipe_, in which he figures as old wernock, and browne as willy; and, in , commendatory verses to the _second book_ of browne's _pastorals_,--beginning "pipe on, sweet swaine." he had already in , addressed "the most ingenious mr. francis beaumont" in an epigram of like familiarity and devotion: some that thy name abbreviate, call thee franck: so may they well, if they respect thy witt; for like rich corne (that some fools call too ranck) all cleane wit-reapers still are griping it; and could i sow for thee to reape and use, i should esteeme it manna for the muse.[ ] another of this little group of late spenserian pastoralists was, as we shall later see, an admirer of beaumont. this is william basse, probably the composer of the lines _in laudem authoris_, signed w. b., and prefixed to the edition of _salmacis and hermaphroditus_. with the commendatory verses of davies, george wither, thomas wenman, and others in browne's _second book_ of the _pastorals_, appear some again signed w. b. "it is just possible," according to the most recent editor of browne's poems,[ ] "that basse and browne were kinsmen." it is certain that basse was a retainer in the family of the poetic thomas wenman who was browne's contemporary at the inner temple. basse, himself, had published three pastoral elegies in , and he was still writing pastorals half a century later. another of this group, george wither, had since been of one of the adjoining inns of chancery. he is the roget, thyrsis, philarete of this pastoral field. in , he wrote the third eclogue supplementary to browne's _shepherd's pipe_; and in he was a neighbor of the inner temple poets, at lincoln's inn. in that eclogue he speaks of a valentine on "the wedding of fair thame and rhine" which he had composed on the occasion of the royal marriage; and in the first _epithalamium_ of the valentine, he refers explicitly to the masques of chapman and beaumont. he must have known both those "heliconian wits." "i'm none," he says with self-depreciation,-- i'm none of those that have the means or place with shows of cost to do your nuptials grace; but only master of mine own desire, am hither come with others to admire. i am not of those heliconian wits, whose pleasing strains the court's known humour fits, but a poor rural shepherd, that for need can make sheep music on an oaten reed. this "faithful though an humble swain" was of distinctive repute among beaumont's associates by : no less for the lyric ease of his _shepherd's hunting_, or of his shall i wasting in despair die because a woman's fair?-- than for the "plain, moral speaking" of the _abuses stript and whipt_ that in - had brought him a year's imprisonment in the marshalsea. jonson later "personates" him as chronomastix, or whipper of the times, in a masque at court; and beaumont's, and fletcher's friend, massinger, introduces him by allusion, in his _duke of milan_, about , "i have had a fellow," says the officer in act iii, ii, of that play-- that could endite forsooth and make fine metres to tinkle in the ears of ignorant madams, that for defaming of great men, was sent me threadbare and lousy. still another member of this circle of poets associated with the inns of court is the cuddy of the pastoral poems, the intimate friend of wither and browne,--christopher brooke, who, though he does not cut much of a figure in his _elegies_, or in his _ghost of richard iii_, was a lovable and hearty friend, and a distinguished bencher of lincoln's inn. that brooke was intimate with shakespeare's company of the king's servants, at just the period that beaumont and fletcher were most closely associated with that company, we have already noticed. as one of the barristers who, in , defended burbadge and heming against the bill of complaint brought by kirkham for recovery of profits in the blackfriars theatre, he had much to do with having the "plaintiff's bill cleerly and absolutely dismissed out of this courte."[ ] this community of friendship with browne and browne's circle gives us, by inference, a clue to an extended list of the gentlemen of london with whom beaumont cannot have altogether failed to be acquainted. browne succeeded beaumont as poet of the inner temple, and the friends of the former in that society would be known to the latter. among those who wrote verses laudatory of browne's _pastorals_ between and , was his "learned friend," john selden, the jurist and antiquary, whose "chamber was in the paper buildings which looke towards the garden." he kept, says aubrey, "a plentifull table, and was never without learned company": frequently that of jonson, drayton, and camden; and, we may be certain, of john fletcher, too; for on his mother's side, selden as his coat of arms and epitaph prove, and as hasted tells us in his _history of kent_, was of the "equestrian" family of bakers to which fletcher's stepsisters belonged. selden was of beaumont's age to a year, and had been of the society since . for browne's book edward heyward, also, wrote verses,--selden's most "devoted friend and chamber-fellow,"--to whom (aubrey again) "he dedicated his _titles of honour_," . heyward came from norfolk and was admitted to the inner temple in . and with selden must be also bracketed, thomas wenman, of oxfordshire; for so suckling brackets him in the _session of the poets_: the poets met the other day, and apollo was at the meeting, they say.... 'twas strange to see how they flocked together: there was selden, and he stood next to the chaire, and wenman not far off, which was very faire. wenman came to the inner temple in ; he expresses in his complimentary verses to browne his wonder that the pastoralist can frame such worthy poetry while as yet "scarce a hair grows up thy chin to grace." wenman was the son of that sir richard whose wife was implicated in the gunpowder plot by mrs. [elizabeth] vaux. he succeeded to an irish peerage in . there was, also, thomas gardiner, the son of a rector in essex. he came to the inner temple in , and in was knighted for his loyalty to king charles. there was, though not of the inner temple, browne's favourite companion, william ferrar, the alexis of the pastoral circle. ferrar was admitted to the middle temple in , and died young. he must have been a graceful and lovable youth, if we may judge from wither's and browne's tributes to him. through his father, "an eminent london merchant, who was interested in the adventures of hawkins, drake, and raleigh," browne and beaumont might, if in no other way, have met with sir richard and sir walter. there were, also, writing praises to browne, the brothers croke, sons of sir john croke of the king's bench. they were both of christ's church, oxford, charles and unton; and they became students of the inner temple in . charles was something of a poet. in he was professor of rhetoric at gresham college; he took orders, and became a fellow of eton college; and during the civil war fled to ireland. unton rose at the bar, became a member of parliament, "aided the parliamentarians during the civil war and enjoyed the favour of cromwell." and there was browne's dear friend, thomas manwood, who had entered the inner temple in , and whose early death by drowning browne bewails in the fourth eclogue of the _shepherd's pipe_,--an elegy somewhat fantastic but beautifully sincere, and, in one or two of its fundamental concepts, decidedly reminiscent of beaumont's elegy written the year before on the death of the countess of rutland. these are a few of the members of this society whom beaumont met whenever he visited the inner temple. it was such as they and their companions, many more of whom are mentioned in the _inner temple records_, and described by mr. gordon goodwin in his edition of browne's _poems_, who set forth, ordered, and furnished beaumont's _masque of the inner temple_; and who, as gentlemen-masquers, sailed with him in the royal barge to whitehall, and happily performed the masque before the king and queen, the princess elizabeth, and the count palatine, on saturday, the twentieth day of february . beaumont's friends were fletcher's; and fletcher must have known browne. it has always seemed strange to me that, when enumerating in his _britannia's pastorals_ the pastoral poets of england,--half a dozen of them, his personal acquaintances,--browne should have omitted fletcher to whom he was deeply indebted for literary inspiration. between and he had, in his _first book of britannia's pastorals_ (song , end; song , beginning), borrowed the story of marina and the river-god, as regards not only the main incident but also much of the poetic phrase, from the _faithfull shepheardesse_--the scene in which fletcher's god of the river rescues amoret and offers her his love. the borrowing is not at all a plagiarism, but an elaboration of the amoret episode; and, as such, the imitation is indirect homage to the quondam pastoralist living close by in southwark. i hesitate to enter upon quest of literary surmise. but some young lion of research might be pardoned if he should undertake to prove that the description of the shepherd remond which browne introduces into his first song just before this borrowing from fletcher's pastoral drama is homage to fletcher, pure and direct: remond, young remond, that full well could sing, and tune his pipe at pan's birth carolling: who for his nimble leaping, sweetest layes, a lawrell garland wore on holidayes; in framing of whose hand dame nature swore that never was his like nor could be more.[ ] conjectural reconstruction of literary relationships is perilously seductive. but it is only fair to apprise the young lion of the delightful certainty that though the trail may run up a tree, it abounds in alluring scents. he will find that no sooner has browne's marina concluded the adventure borrowed from fletcher than she falls in with remond's younger companion, "blithe doridon," who, in the _second book_ of the _pastorals_, written in - , swears fidelity to remond-- entreats him then that he might be his partner, since no men had cases liker; he with him would goe-- weepe when he wept and sigh when he did so;[ ] and that, in the second song of the _first book_,[ ] doridon, who also is a poet, is described at a length not at all necessary to the narrative, and in terms that more than echo the description of the beauty of hermaphroditus in the poem of that name which has been traditionally attributed to beaumont. this doridon is a genius: upon this hill there sate a lovely swaine, as if that nature thought it great disdaine that he should (so through her his genius told him) take equall place with swaines, since she did hold him her chiefest worke, and therefore thought it fit, that with inferiours he should never sit.... he is "fairest of men"; when he pipes "the wood's sweet quiresters" join in consort--"a musicke that would ravish choisest eares." he is, as i have said, a poet,-- and as when plato did i' th' cradle thrive, bees to his lips brought honey from their hive; so to this boy they came; i know not whether they brought, or from his lips did honey gather.... he is also a master in the revels, his buskins (edg'd with silver) were of silke.... those buskins he had got and brought away for dancing best upon the revell day. browne, by the way, wrote the _prefatory address_ to this book of _britannia's pastorals_, june , , only three months after beaumont's masque upon the "revel day" was acted; and the book was licensed for printing, the same year, november . returning to our young lion, he will, i fear me, exult (with lust of chase or laughter?) when in the third song of this book, he notes that doridon, overhearing the love-colloquy of remond and fida, can find no other trope to describe their felicity than one drawn from ovid, and from the so-called beaumont poem of , _salmacis and hermaphroditus_,-- sweet death they needs must have, who so unite that two distinct make one hermaphrodite.[ ] lured by such scents as these, our beast of prey may pounce--upon a shadow, or not?--when, having tracked the meandering browne to the second song of the second book, he there hears him rehearse the names of what shepheards on the sea were seene to entertaine the ocean's queene,-- the poets of england: astrophel (sidney), "the learned shepheard of faire hitching hill" (chapman), all loved draiton, jonson, well-languag'd daniel, christopher brooke, davies of hereford, and wither, many a skilfull swaine whose equals earth cannot produce againe, but leave the times and men that shall succeed them enough to praise that age which so did breed them,-- and then, _without interim_, proceed: two of the quaintest swains that yet have beene failed their attendance on the ocean's queene, remond and doridon, whose haplesse fates late sever'd them from their more happy mates.[ ] browne, who had dropped these companion shepherds of the "pastoral and the rural song" three songs back, now needs them to scour the forests for the vanished fida of his fiction. if he had not needed them for the narrative here resumed, might they not have attended the ocean's queen with the other poets of england,--all, but sidney, his personal friends,--as fletcher and beaumont? this is precisely the way in which masaccio, ghirlandajo, and rafael introduced into their frescoes the tornabuoni and medici of their time. we may leave the inquisitive to follow them to that realm where, forsaking mythical and pastoral romance, many weary dayes they now had spent in unfrequented wayes. about the rivers, vallies, holts, and crags, among the ozyers and the waving flags, they merely pry, if any dens there be, where from the sun might harbour crueltie: or if they could the bones of any spy, or torne by beasts, or humane tyranny. they close inquiry made in caverns blind, yet what they look for would be death to find. right as a curious man that would descry, led by the trembling hand of jealousy, if his fair wife have wrong'd his bed or no, meeteth his torment if he find her so.[ ] i cannot, however, refrain from pointing the venturesome researcher,--with irony--may be not mephistophelian, but merely pyrrhonic,--to the dramatic misfortunes of bellario, aspasia, and evadne, and other heroines of the dramatized romances in which beaumont and fletcher's theatre of the globe was indulging at the time. and i would ask him after he has read the sage advice of remond to the disconsolate shepherd, some two hundred lines further down, to turn to fletcher's poem of _upon an honest man's fortune_, and decide whether the poet-philosopher of the one is not very much of the same opinion as the shepherd-philosopher of the other.[ ] footnotes: [ ] john chamberlain to mris. carleton, february, - , in _state papers (domestic) james i_, lxxii, no. . quoted by miss sullivan, _court masques of james i_, p. ( ). [ ] foscarini in _calendar of state papers, venetian_, xii, no. . quoted by miss sullivan, _op. cit._, p. . [ ] _calendar state papers (domestic)_, - , pp. , , . [ ] dugdale's _origines juridicales_, as cited by dyce, _b. and f._, ii, . inderwick, _op. cit._, ii, xxxix-xlii, , , etc. douthwaite, _op. cit._, . nichols's _progresses of king james_, ii, , . [ ] _to worthy persons_, in the volume entitled _the scourge of folly_. [ ] gordon goodwin, in _the muses' library_, , p. . [ ] see _greenstreet papers_, viii, fleay, _hist. stage_, . [ ] _brit. past._, i, , . [ ] _ibid._, ii, , . [ ] li. - . [ ] _ibid._, i, , - . [ ] _ibid._, ii, , - . [ ] _ibid._, ii, , - . [ ] cf. especially _brit. past._, ii, , - , with fletcher's defiance of poverty and independence of criticism in his poem, _upon an honest man's fortune_. chapter x an intersecting circle of jovial sort christopher brooke of lincoln's inn enters the circle of beaumont's associates not only as the advocate to whom beaumont's friends in shakespeare's company of actors turn for counsel in an important suit at law, and as the encomiast of shakespeare himself a year or two later: he that from helicon sends many a rill, whose nectared veines are drunk by thirsty men,[ ] but as one of the pastoralists of the inns of court. he was also a friend of beaumont's older associates, jonson, drayton, and davies of hereford. from an unexpected quarter comes information of brooke's intimacy with still others who at various points impinged upon beaumont's career,--with inigo jones, for instance, who designed the machinery for beaumont's _masque_, and with sir henry nevill, the father of the sir henry who, a few years later, supplied the publisher walkley with the manuscript of beaumont and fletcher's _a king and no king_. when we let ourselves in upon the elder sir henry carousing at the mitre with brooke and jones, and others known to beaumont as members of the mermaid, in a famous symposium held some time between and september , we begin to feel that it was not by mere accident that the manuscript _of a king and no king_ fell into the hands of the nevill family. sir henry the elder, of billingbear, berkshire, was a relative of sir francis bacon, and a friend of davies of hereford, and of ben jonson, who dedicated to nevill about one of his most graceful epigrams; probably, also, of francis beaumont's brother john, who wrote a graceful tribute to the memory of one of the gentlewomen of the family, mistress elizabeth nevill. this sir henry was an influential member of parliament, a statesman, a courtier, and a diplomat, as well as a patron of poets. he came near being secretary of the realm. it is his name that we find scribbled with those of bacon and shakespeare, about , possibly by davies of hereford, the admirer of all three, over the cover of the _northumbrian manuscript_ of "mr. ffrauncis bacon's" essays and speeches. sir henry did not die till , and it is more than likely that the play, _a king and no king_, which was acted about , and of which his family held the manuscript, had his "approbation and patronage" as well as that of sir henry the younger "to the commendation of the authors"; and that both father and son knew beaumont and fletcher well. the mitre inn, a common resort of hilarious templars, still stands at the top of mitre court, a few yards back from the thoroughfare of fleet street. [illustration: francis bacon from the portrait by paul van somer in the national portrait gallery, london] the symposium to which i have referred is celebrated in a copy of macaronic latin verses, entitled _mr. hoskins, his convivium philosophicum_;[ ] and i may be pardoned if i quote from the contemporary translation by john reynolds of new college, the opening stanzas, since one is set to wondering how many other of the jolly souls "convented," beside brooke and jones and nevill, our beaumont knew.-- whosoever is contented that a number be convented, enough but not too many; the _miter_ is the place decreed, for witty jests and cleanly feed, the betterest of any. there will come, though scarcely current, christopherus surnamèd _torrent_ and john yclepèd _made_; and arthur _meadow-pigmies'-foe_ to sup, his dinner will forgoe-- will come as soon as bade. sir robert _horse-lover_ the while, _ne let_ sir henry _count it vile_ will come with gentle speed; and _rabbit-tree-where-acorn-grows_ and john surnamèd _little-hose_ will come if there be need. and richard _pewter-waster_ best and henry _twelve-month-good_ at least and john _hesperian_ true. if any be desiderated he shall be amerciated forty-pence in issue. hugh the _inferior-germayne_, nor yet unlearnèd nor prophane inego _ionicke-pillar_. but yet the number is not righted: if coriate bee not invited, the jeast will want a tiller. in his edition of aubrey's _brief lives_, dr. clark supplies the glossary to these punning names. _torrent_ is, of course, brooke. johannes _factus_, or _made_, is brooke's chamber-fellow of lincoln's inn, john donne; and donne is the great friend and correspondent in well known epistles of henry _twelve-month-good_, the sir henry goodere, or goodeere, who married frances (drayton's panape), one of the daughters of "the first cherisher of drayton's muse." _ne-let_ sir henry _count it vile_ is the elder nevill under cover of his family motto, _ne vile velis_. inigo jones, _ionicke-pillar_ is even more thinly disguised in the latin original as ignatius _architectus_, hugh holland (the _inferior-germayne_) was of beaumont's mermaid club, the writer--beside other poems--of commendatory verses for jonson's _sejanus_ in , and of the sonnet _upon the lines and life_ of that other frequenter of the mermaid, "sweet master shakespeare." holland's "great patronesse," by the way, was the wife of sir edward coke of beaumont's inner temple, whose daughter married beaumont's kinsman, sir john villiers; and it was by the great villiers, duke of buckingham, that holland was introduced to king james. also, of the mermaid in beaumont's time was tom coryate, the "legge-stretcher of odcombe" without whose presence this convivium philosophicum would "want its tiller." of the mermaid, too, was richard martin (the _pewter-waster_). he was fond of the drama; had organized a masque at the middle temple at the time of the princess elizabeth's marriage; and it is to him that ben jonson dedicates the folio of _the poetaster_ ( ). in , as recorder of london, he was the bosom friend of brooke, holland, and hoskins: he died of just such a "symposiaque" as this, a few years later, and he lies in the middle temple. last, comes the reputed author of these macaronic latin verses of the mitre, john hoskins himself (surnamed _little-hose_). he had been a freshman of the middle temple in the year when beaumont was beginning at the inner. he was an incomparable writer of drolleries, over which we may be sure that beaumont many a time held his sides,--a wag whose "excellent witt gave him letters of commendacion to all ingeniose persons," a great friend of beaumont's jonson, and of raleigh, donne, selden, camden, and daniel. of the participants in serjeant hoskins's _convivium philosophicum_, we find, then, that several were of those who came into personal contact with beaumont, and that of the rest, nearly all moved in the field of his acquaintance. concerning a few, arthur _meadow-pigmies'-foe_ (cranefield), sir robert _horse-lover_ (phillips), _rabbit-tree-where-acorn-grows_ (conyoke or connock), and john _hesperian_ (west), i have no information pertinent to the subject. footnotes: [ ] _the ghost of richard iii_, i, viii ( ). [ ] in _cal. state papers (dom.)_, under sept. , , i find "description by ralph colphab [thomas cariat] of brasenose college, oxford, of a philosophical feast the guests at which were chris brook, john donne," and others in exactly the order given below, save for one error. "in latin rhymes." dr. a. clark in his aubrey's _brief lives_, ii, - , gives the latin verses from an old commonplace book in lincoln college library, "authore rodolpho calsabro, aeneacense"; but prefers the attribution of another old copy, owned by mr. madan of brasenose, "per johannem hoskyns, london." the translation by reynolds, who died in , is also given by dr. clark. chapter xi beaumont and sir philip sidney's daughter; relations with other persons of note glimpses of the more personal relations of beaumont with the world of rank and fashion, and to some extent of his character, are vouchsafed us in the few non-dramatic verses that may with certainty be ascribed to him. unfortunately for our purpose, most of those included in the _poems_, "by francis beaumont, gent.," issued by blaiklock in and printed again in , and among _the golden remains_ "of those so much admired dramatick poets, francis beaumont and john fletcher, gents.," in , are, as i have already said, by other hands than his: some of them by his brother, sir john, and by donne, jonson, randolph, shirley, and waller. of the juvenile amatory lyrics, addresses, and so-called sonnets in these collections, it is not likely that a single one is by him; for in an epistle to sidney's daughter, the countess of rutland, written when he was evidently of mature years and reputation,--let us suppose, about , beaumont says: i would avoid the common beaten ways to women usèd, which are love or praise. as for the first, the little wit i have is not yet grown so near unto the grave but that i can, by that dim fading light, perceive of what or unto whom i write. let others, "well resolved to end their days with a loud laughter blown beyond the seas,"--let such write love to you: i would not willingly be pointed at in every company, as was that little tailor, who till death was hot in love with queen elizabeth. and for the last, in all my idle days i never yet did living woman praise in prose or verse. a sufficient disavowal, this, of the foolish love songs attributed to him by an uncritical posterity. as for this "strange letter," as he denominates it, from which i have quoted, the sincere, as well as brusque, humour attests more than ordinary acquaintance with, and genuine admiration of, elizabeth, the poetic and only child of sir philip sidney. the countess lived but twenty-five miles north-west of charnwood, and in the same country of leicestershire. one can see the towers from the heights above grace-dieu. the beaumonts undoubtedly had been at belvoir, time and again. "if i should sing your praises in my rhyme," says he to her of the "white soul" and "beautiful face," i lose my ink, my paper and my time and nothing add to your o'erflowing store, and tell you nought, but what you knew before. nor do the virtuous-minded (which i swear, madam, i think you are) endure to hear their own perfections into question brought, but stop their ears at them; for, if i thought you took a pride to have your virtues known, (pardon me, madam) i should think them none. many a writer of the day agreed with beaumont concerning elizabeth sidney,--"every word you speak is sweet and mild." she, said jonson to drummond of hawthornden, "was nothing inferior to her father in poesie"; she encouraged it in others. but her husband, roger, fifth earl of rutland, though a lover of plays himself, does not appear to have favoured his countess's patronage of literary men. he burst in upon her, one day when ben jonson was dining with her, and "accused her that she kept table to poets." of her excellence jonson bears witness in four poems. most pleasantly in that epistle included in his _the forrest_, where speaking of his tribute of verse, he says: with you, i know my off'ring will find grace: for what a sinne 'gainst your great father's spirit, were it to think, that you should not inherit his love unto the muses, when his skill almost you have, or may have, when you will? wherein wise nature you a dowrie gave, worth an estate treble to that you have. beauty, i know is good, and blood is more; riches thought most: but, madame, think what store the world hath scene, which all these had in trust, and now lye lost in their forgotten dust. and in an epigram[ ] _to the honour'd ---- countesse of ----_, evidently sent to her during the absence of her husband on the continent, he compliments her conduct,-- not only shunning by your act, to doe ought that is ill, but the suspition too,-- at a time when others are following vices and false pleasures. but "you," he says, admit no company but good, and when you want those friends, or neare in blood, or your allies, you make your bookes your friends, and studie them unto the noblest ends, searching for knowledge, and to keepe your mind the same it was inspired, rich, and refin'd. among other admirers of the countess of rutland was sir thomas overbury, who, according to ben jonson, was "in love with her." beaumont would have known the brilliant and ill-starred overbury, of compton scorpion, who was not only an intimate of jonson's, but a devoted admirer of their mutual friend, sir henry nevill of billingbear. and if beaumont was on terms of affectionate familiarity with sidney's daughter, he could not but have known sidney's sister, the countess of pembroke, as well, the idol of william browne's epitaph, and of his old friend drayton's eulogy, on the "fair shepherdess," to whom all shepherds dedicate their lays, and on her altars offer up their bays. "in her time wilton house," says aubrey, "was like a college; there were so many learned and ingeniose persons. she was the greatest patronesse of witt and learning of any lady in her time." and if beaumont knew the mother, then, also, william herbert, third earl of pembroke, the son, to whom his master, jonson, dedicates in , the tragedy of _catiline_, prefaced, as we have already observed, by verses of beaumont himself. whatever rutland's objection may have been to his countess's patronage of poets, we may be sure that that lady's attitude toward beaumont and his literary friends was seconded by her husband's old friend the earl of southampton, with whom in earlier days rutland used to pass away the time "in london merely in going to plaies every day." southampton had remained a patron of burbadge, shakespeare, and the like. and when he died in , we find not only beaumont's acquaintance, chapman, but beaumont's brother, joining in the chorus of panegyric to his memory. "i keep that glory last which is the best," writes sir john, the love of learning which he oft express'd in conversation, and respect to those who had a name in arts, in verse, in prose. since southampton was "a dear lover and cherisher as well of the lovers of poets as of the poets themselves"[ ] we may figure not only the two beaumonts but their beloved countess participating in such discussion of noble themes,--if not in london, then at belvoir castle or titchfield house or grace-dieu priory. if at belvoir, leland, the traveler, helps us to the scene. the castle, he says "standyth on the very knape of an highe hille, stepe up eche way, partely by nature, partely by working of mennes handes, as it may evidently be perceived. of the late dayes [ ], the erle of rutland hath made it fairer than ever it was. it is straunge sighte to se be how many steppes of stone the way goith up from the village to the castel. in the castel be faire gates, and its dungeon is a fair rounde tour now turnid to pleasure, as a place to walk yn, to se at the countery aboute, and raylid about the round [waull, and] a garden [plot] in the middle."[ ] one sees francis toiling up the "many steps," received by his countess and the rest, and rejoicing with them in the view of the twenty odd family estates from the garden on the high tower. * * * * * returning to francis beaumont's epistle to the countess of rutland, we observe that it concludes with a promise: but, if your brave thoughts, which i must respect above your glorious titles, shall accept these harsh disorder'd lines, i shall ere long dress up your virtues new, in a new song; yet far from all base praise and flattery, although i know what'er my verses be, they will like the most servile flattery shew, if i write truth, and make the subject you. the opportunity for "the new song" came in a manner unexpected, and, alas, too soon. in august , but a brief month or so after she had been freed by her husband's death from the misery of an unhappy marriage, she was herself suddenly carried off by some mysterious malady. according to a letter of chamberlain to sir r. winwood, "sir walter raleigh is slandered to have given her certaine pills that despatch'd her." that, sir walter, even with the best intent in the world, could not have done in person, for he was in the tower at the time. perhaps the medicine referred to was one of those "excellent receipts" for which raleigh and his half-brother, adrian gilbert, were famous. the chemist gilbert was living in those days with the countess of rutland's aunt, at wilton. three days after the death of the lady whom he so revered, beaumont poured out his grief in verses justly praised as a monument that will then lasting be when all her marble is more dust than she. that is what john earle, writing after beaumont's own death, some four years later, says of the _elegy on the death of the virtuous lady, elizabeth, countess of rutland_. and so far as the elegy proper is concerned,--that is to say, the first half of the poem, ere it blazes into scathing indictment of the physicians who helped the countess to her grave,--i fully agree with earle. here is poetry of the heart, pregnant with pathos, not only of the untimely event--she was but twenty-seven years old,--but of the unmerited misfortune that had darkened the brief chapter of her existence: her father's death while she was yet in infancy,-- ere thou knewest the use of tears sorrow laid up against thou cam'st to years; sorrow in her wedded life,-- as soon as thou couldst apprehend a grief, there were enough to meet thee; and the chief blessing of women, marriage, was to thee nought but a sacrament of misery. and then, why didst thou die so soon? oh, pardon me! i know it was the longest life to thee, that e'er with modesty was call'd a span, since the almighty left to strive with man. in this threnody of wasted loveliness and innocence, we have our most definite revelation of beaumont's personality as a man among men: his tenderness, his fervid friendship, his passionate reverence for spotless womanhood and the sacrament of holy marriage (jonson has given us the facts about her loathsome husband); his admiration of the chivalric great--as of the hero whose life was ventured and generously lost at zutphen "to save a land," his contempt for pedantic stupidity and professional ineptitude, his faith in the "everlasting" worth of poetic ideals, his realization of the vanity of human wishes and of the counter-balancing dignity, the cleasing poignancy, of human sorrow; his reluctant but profound submission to the decree of "the wise god of nature"; his acceptance of the inexplicable irony of life and of the crowning mercy: i will not hurt the peace which she should have by looking longer in her quiet grave,-- the consummation that all his heroines of tortured chastity, the bellarios, arethusas, aspasias, pantheas, uranias, of his mimic world, devoutly desired. and as a revelation of his poetic temper, perhaps all the more for its accessory bitterness and rhetorical conceits, this elegy is as valuable a piece of documentary evidence as exists outside of beaumont's dramatic productions. it displays not a few of the characteristics which distinguish him as a dramatist from fletcher: his preference in the best of their joint-plays for serious poetic theme, his realist humour and bold satiric force, his quiverful of words and rhythmical sequence, his creative imagery, his lines of vivid, final spontaneity,-- sorrow can make a verse without a muse; and "thou art gone,"-- gone like the day thou diedst upon, and we may call that back again as soon as thee. in still another way the lines on the death of sidney's daughter are instructive. its noble tribute to sidney's _arcadia_ is payment of a debt manifest in more than one of the dramas to which beaumont had contributed. of sir philip, beaumont here writes: he left two children, who for virtue, wit, beauty, were lov'd of all,--thee and his writ: two was too few; yet death hath from us took thee, a more faultless issue than his book, which, now the only living thing we have from him, we'll see, shall never find a grave as thou hast done. alas, would it might be that books their sexes had, as well as we, that we might see this married to the worth, and many poems like itself bring forth. the _arcadia_ had already brought forth offspring: in prose, greene's _menaphon_ and _pandosto_, and lodge's _rosalynde_; in verse, day's _ile of guls_. it had fathered, immediately, the subplot of shakespeare's _king lear_,--and, indirectly, portions of the _winter's tale_, and _as you like it_, and of other elizabethan plays.[ ] within the twelve months immediately preceding august , it had inspired also, as we have already observed, beaumont and fletcher's _cupid's revenge_, the finest scenes in which are beaumont's dramatic adaptation of romantic characters and motives furnished by sir philip. and from that same "faultless issue," the _arcadia_, virtue, art, and beauty, loved of all, had earlier still been drawn by beaumont, certainly for _the maides tragedy_, and, perhaps, for _philaster_ as well. the acquaintance with the rutland family was continued after the death of francis by his brother john, and his sister elizabeth. the nymph "of beauty most divine ... whose admirèd vertues draw all harts to love her" in john's poem, _the shepherdess_, is lady katharine manners, daughter of francis, sixth earl of rutland, and now the wife of george villiers, marquis of buckingham; and the shepherdess herself "who long had kept her flocks on stony charnwood's dry and barren rocks," the country dame "for singing crowned, whence grew a world of fame among the sheep cotes," is elizabeth beaumont of grace-dieu, back on a visit from her seyliard home in kent. she had wandered into the summer place of the rutlands and buckinghams near the grace-dieu priory--"watered with our silver brookes," and had been welcomed and had sung for them. and now john repays the courtesy with indirect and graceful compliment. with the villiers family, as i have earlier intimated, the beaumonts were connected not only by acquaintance as county gentry but by ties of blood. sir george villiers, a leicestershire squire, had married for his second wife, about , maria beaumont, a relative of theirs, who had been brought up by their kinsmen of coleorton hall to the west of them on the other side of the ridge. it will be remembered that one of those coleorton beaumonts, henry, was an executor of judge beaumont's will in . the father of the maria, or mary, beaumont whom henry beaumont nurtured as a waiting gentlewoman in his household, was his second cousin, anthony beaumont of glenfield in leicestershire. while maria was living at the hall, the old knight, sir george villiers of brooksby, recently widowed, visited his kinswoman, eleanor lewis, henry's wife, at coleorton, "found there," writes a contemporary, arthur wilson, "this young gentlewoman, allied, and yet a servant of the family," was fascinated by her graces and made her lady villiers. this sir george villiers was of an old and distinguished family. leland mentions it first among the ten families of leicestershire, "that be there most of reputation."[ ] and he says "the chiefest house of the villars at this time is at brokesby in leicestershire, lower by four miles than melton, on the higher ripe [bank] of wreke river. there lie buried in the church divers of the villars. this villars [of ] is lord of hoby hard-by, and of coneham in lincolnshire.... he is a man of but two hundred marks of land by the year." this "villars" was the father of the sir george who married maria beaumont. brooksby, near melton mowbray, is only two or three hours' drive from coleorton. [illustration: george villiers, first duke of buckingham, and family from the painting by honthorst in the national portrait gallery] the children of this marriage, john, george, and christopher, were but a few years younger than the young beaumonts of grace-dieu; and there would naturally be some coming and going between the villiers children of brooksby and their beaumont kin of coleorton and grace-dieu. george, the second son, born in , through whom the fortunes of the family were achieved, was introduced to king james in august . this youth of twenty-two had all the graces of the beaumont as well as the villiers blood. "he was of singularly prepossessing appearance," says gardiner, "and was endowed not only with personal vigour, but with that readiness of speech which james delighted in." it was his mother, maria, now the widowed lady villiers, who manoeuvred the meeting. her husband's estates had gone to the children of the first marriage: george was her favourite son and she staked everything upon his success. james took to him from the first; the same year he made him cup-bearer; the next, gentleman of the bed-chamber, and knighted him and gave him a pension. we may imagine that francis beaumont and his brother john watched the promotion of their kinsman with keen interest. but his phenomenal career was only then beginning. in , a few months after francis had died, sir george villiers was elevated to the peerage as viscount villiers. by this devoted "steenie" of his "dear dad and gossop," king james, is earl of buckingham, and now,--that somerset has fallen,--the most potent force in the kingdom; in he is marquis, and in , duke,--and for some years past he has been enjoying an income of £ , a year from the lands and perquisites bestowed upon him. meanwhile his brother, john, has, in , married a great heiress, the daughter of sir edward coke of beaumont's inner temple, and in has become viscount purbeck; his mother, the intriguing maria, has been created countess of buckingham, in her own right; in due time his younger brother, the stupid christopher, is made earl of anglesey. and buckingham takes thought not for his immediate family alone: in "villiers' kinsman [hen] beaumont was to have the bishopric of worcester, but failed";[ ] in his cousin, sir thomas beaumont of coleorton, the son of the sir henry[ ] who cared for villiers' mother in her indigence, is created viscount beaumont of swords; and in , john beaumont of grace-dieu is dubbed knight-baronet. in , the marquis of buckingham had married katharine manners, the daughter and sole heiress of francis, earl of rutland. it was a love match; and john beaumont celebrated it with a glowing epithalamium, praying for the speedy birth of a son who may be worthy of his father's stile, may answere to our hopes, and strictly may combine the happy height of villiers race with noble rutland's line. soon afterwards and before , john beaumont's _shepherdesse_, spoken of above, was written. beside the nymph, the marchioness of buckingham, those whom the poem describes as living in "our dales,"--and welcoming elizabeth beaumont,--are the father of the marchioness, the earl of rutland, "his lady," cicely (tufton), the stepmother of katharine manners,--and another lady, in whose brest true wisdom hath with bounty equal place, as modesty with beauty in her face: she found me singing flora's native dowres and made me sing before the heavenly pow'rs, for which great favour, till my voice be done, i sing of her, and her thrice noble son. this other lady, so wise, and bounteous to john beaumont, is the countess of buckingham, who when john and our francis were boys, was poor cousin maria of the coleorton beaumonts. to the marquis of buckingham, "her thrice-noble sonne," john writes many poetic addresses in later years: of the birth of a daughter, mall, "this sweete armefull"; of the birth and death of his first son; of how in his "greatnesse," george villiers did not forget him: you, onely you, have pow'r to make me dwell in sight of men, drawne from my silent cell; and of how villiers had won him the recognition of the king: your favour first th' anointed head inclines to heare my rurall songs, and read my lines. george villiers, is "his patron and his friend." in writing to the great marquis and duke, john beaumont never recalls the kinship; but in writing to the less distinguished brother, the viscount purbeck, he delicately alludes to it. in the fortunes of the vauxes of harrowden, the beaumonts would naturally have continued their interest. anne, imprisoned after the gunpowder plot, was released at the end of six months. the family persisted in its adherence to the catholic faith and politics. as late as feb. , , "mrs. vaux, lord (edward) vaux's mother, is condemned to perpetual imprisonment, for refusing to take the oath of allegiance"; and we observe that on march , of the same year, "lord vaux is committed to the fleet" for a like refusal.[ ] young lord vaux got out of the fleet, in time married, and lived till . others of kin or family connection,--and of his own age,--with whom francis would be on terms of social intercourse or even intimacy during his prime, were his cousin, robert pierrepoint, who by was in parliament as member for nottingham, and in was high sheriff of the shire; henry hastings, born in , who since had been fifth earl of huntingdon, and in may was to be of those appointed for the trial of the earl and countess of somerset; huntingdon's sister, catherine (who was wife of philip stanhope, earl of chesterfield), and his brother, edward, a captain in the navy, who the year after beaumont's death made the voyage to guiana under sir walter raleigh; huntingdon's cousin, and also beaumont's kinsman, sir henry hastings, of whom we have already heard as one of father gerard's converts (a first cousin of mrs. elizabeth vaux, and husband of an elizabeth beaumont of coleorton); sir william cavendish, of the pierrepoint connection, a pupil of hobbes, an intimate friend of james i, and a leader in the society of court, who was knighted in , and in strengthened his position greatly by marrying christiana, daughter of lord bruce of kinloss; and that other young cavendish, sir william of welbeck, county notts., who in was on his travels on the continent under the care of sir henry wotton. with at least three of these scions of families allied to the beaumonts, francis had been associated, as i have already pointed out, by contemporaneity at the inns of court. neither the epistle to elizabeth sidney nor the elegy on her death was included by blaiklock in his foolish book of so-called beaumont poems. from the elegy on lady markham's death, in , there included, we learn little of the poet's self--he had never seen the lady's face, and is merely rhetoricizing. from the elegy, also included by blaiklock, "on the death of the lady penelope clifton," on october , , almost as artificial, we learn no more of beaumont's personality,--but we are led to conjecture some social acquaintance with the distinguished family of her father, lord rich, afterwards earl of warwick, and of her husband, sir gervase clifton, who had been specially admitted to the inner temple in ; and the conjecture is confirmed by the perusal of lines "to the immortal memory of this fairest and most vertuous lady" included in the works of sir john beaumont. he writes as knowing lady penelope intimately,--the sound of her voice, the fairness of her face, her high perfections,--and as regretting that he had neglected to utter his affection in verse "while she had lived": we let our friends pass idly like our time till they be gone, and then we see our crime. these poems on lady penelope clifton forge still another link between the beaumonts and the sidneys, for penelope's mother, the lady penelope devereux, daughter of walter, first earl of essex, was sidney's _innamorata_, the stella to his astrophel. one may with safety extend the list of beaumont's acquaintances among the gentry and nobility by crediting him with some of fletcher's during the years in which the poets were living in close association; not only with fletcher's family connections, the bakers, lennards, and sackvilles of kent, but with those to whom fletcher dedicates, about , the first quarto of his _faithfull shepheardesse_: sir william skipwith, for instance, sir walter aston, and sir robert townshend. of these the first, esteemed for his "witty conceits," his "epigrams and poesies," was admired and loved not only by fletcher but by beaumont's brother as well--to whom we owe an encomium evidently sincere: ... a comely body, and a beauteous mind; a heart to love, a hand to give inclin'd; a house as free and open as the ayre; a tongue which joyes in language sweet and faire, ... and more of the kind. sir william was a not distant neighbour of the beaumonts, and was knighted, as we have seen, at the same time and place as henry of grace-dieu; one may reasonably infer that his "house as free and open as the ayre" at cotes in leicestershire harboured fletcher and the two beaumonts on more than one occasion. sir walter aston of tixall in staffordshire, the diplomat, of the inner temple since , had been, since ,[ ] the patron also of francis beaumont's life-long friend, drayton. and that poet keeps up the intimacy for many years. writing, after when sir walter, now baron aston of forfar, was sent on embassy to spain, he says of lady aston that "till here again i may her see, it will be winter all the year with me." in sir walter is a "true lover of learning," in whom "as in a centre" fletcher "takes rest," and whose "goodness to the muses" is "able to make a work heroical." of sir robert townshend's relation to our dramatists we know nothing save that fletcher says: "you love above my means to thank ye." he came of a family that is still illustrious, and for a quarter of a century he sat in parliament. fletcher's closest friend, if we except beaumont, seems to have been charles cotton of beresford, staffordshire, "a man of considerable fortune and high accomplishments," the son of sir george cotton of hampshire. he owed his estates in staffordshire, and in derbyshire as well, to his marriage with the daughter of sir john stanhope. to him in , as "the noble honourer of the dead author's works and memory," richard brome dedicates the quarto of fletcher's _monsieur thomas_. "yours," he says, "is the worthy opinion you have of the author and his poems; neither can it easily be determined, whether your affection to them hath made you, by observing, more able to judge of them, than your ability to judge of them hath made you to affect them deservedly, not partially.... your noble self (has) built him a more honourable monument in that fair opinion you have of him than any inscription subject to the wearing of time can be." to this charles cotton, his cousin, sir aston cockayne, writes a letter in verse after the appearance of the first folio of beaumont and fletcher's plays, , speaking of fletcher as "your friend and old companion" and reproaching him for not having taken the pains to set the printers right about what in that folio was fletcher's, what beaumont's, what massinger's,--"i wish as free you had told the printers this as you did me." and it is apparently to cotton that cockayne is alluding when, upbraiding the publishers for not giving each of the authors his due, he says, "but how came i (you ask) so much to know? fletcher's chief bosome-friend informed me so." elsewhere cockayne describes fletcher and massinger as "great friends"; but the "bosome-friend" mentioned above cannot be massinger, for massinger is one of those concerning whose authorship "the bosome-friend" gives information. cotton was a friend of ben jonson, donne, and selden, also. to him it is, as a critic, and not to his son, who was a poet, that robert herrick, born seven years after beaumont, writes: for brave comportment, wit without offence, words fully flowing, yet of influence, thou art that man of men, the man alone, worthy the publique admiration: who with thine owne eyes read'st what we doe write, and giv'st our numbers euphonie and weight; tell'st when a verse springs high, how understood to be, or not, borne of the royall-blood. what state above, what symmetrie below, lives have, or sho'd have, thou the best can show.--[ ] and it is likely that cotton did the same for fletcher and beaumont. of cotton, fletcher's and, therefore, beaumont's friend, lord clarendon gives us explicit information: "he had all those qualities which in youth raise men to the reputation of being fine gentlemen: such a pleasantness and gaiety of humour, such a sweetness and gentleness of nature, and such a civility and delightfulness in conversation, that no man in the court or out of it appeared a more accomplished person; all these extraordinary qualifications being supported by as extraordinary a clearness of courage, and fearlessness of spirit, of which he gave too often manifestation." in later life he was less happy in fortune and in disposition, "and gave his best friends cause to have wished that he had not lived so long." he passed through the civil war and died at the end of cromwell's protectorate, . and of robert herrick, we may say that he, too, was surely an acquaintance of our poets. he writes many poems to ben jonson. to their other friend, selden, fletcher's connection by the baker alliance, and beaumont's associate in the inner temple, he writes appreciatively: whose smile can make a poet, and your glance dash all bad poems out of countenance.[ ] and of our dramatists themselves, he writes about the same time that he is writing to selden, in his verses _to the apparition of his mistresse, calling him to elizium_,-- amongst which glories, crown'd with sacred bayes and flatt'ring ivie, two recite their plaies-- beaumont and fletcher, swans to whom all eares listen while they, like syrens in their spheres, sing their evadne.[ ] [illustration: john selden from the painting in the national portrait gallery, london] the bohemian life on the bankside, such as it was, must have been brought to an end by beaumont's marriage, about . by that time beaumont had written _the woman-hater_, _the knight of the burning pestle_, _the maske_, and several poems; fletcher, _the faithfull shepheardesse_ and three or four plays more; the two in partnership, at least five plays; and fletcher had meanwhile collaborated with other dramatists in from eight to eleven plays which do not now concern us. as to the remaining dramas assigned to this period and attributed by various critics to beaumont and fletcher in joint-authorship, we shall later inquire. suffice it for the present to say that i do not believe that the former had a hand in any of them, except _the scornful ladie_. footnotes: [ ] _underwoods_, xlviii. [ ] thomas nashe, _dedication of the life of jack wilton_. [ ] _itinerary_, ed. l. t. smith, vol. i, . [ ] see greg's _pastoral poetry and the pastoral drama_, and my former pupil, h. w. hill's, _sidney's arcadia and the elizabethan drama_. [ ] _itinerary_, vol. i, . see also, below, appendix, table a. [ ] _cal. state papers, domestic_, chamberlain to carleton, jan. , . the villiers descent is given in collins, _peerage_, iii, . [ ] sir henry had petitioned ineffectually for the revival of the viscounty at an earlier date. _cal. st. pa., dom._, nov. , ; see, also, reference in . see also, below, appendix, table a. [ ] _calendar of state papers_ (domestic), - , under dates. [ ] elton, _drayton_, p. . [ ] _hesperides_, aldine edition of _herrick_, ii, . [ ] _hesperides_, aldine edition, _herrick_, i, . [ ] _op. cit._, i, . chapter xii beaumont's marriage and death; the surviving family in the edition of the "poems; by francis beaumont, gent." there is one, ordinarily regarded as of doubtful authorship, which, in default of information to the contrary, i am tempted to accept as his and to attach to it importance, as of biographical interest. it purports to bear his signature "fran. beaumont"; it bears for me the impress of his literary style. writing before august , to the countess of rutland, beaumont had, as we have remarked, disclaimed ever having praised "living woman in prose or verse." in _the examination of his mistris' perfections_, the poem of which i speak, the writer praises with all sincerity the woman of his love: stand still, my happinesse; and, swelling heart,-- no more! till i consider what thou art. like our first parents in paradise who "thought it nothing if not understood," so the poet of his happiness-- though by thy bountious favour i be in a paradice, where i may freely taste of all the vertuous pleasures which thou hast [i] wanting that knowledge, must, in all my blisse, erre with my parents, and aske what it is. my faith saith 'tis not heaven; and i dare swear, if it be hell, no pain of sence, is there; sure, 't is some pleasant place, where i may stay, as i to heaven go in the middle way. wert thou but faire, and no whit vertuous, thou wert no more to me but a faire house hanted with spirits, from which men do them blesse, and no man will halfe furnishe to possesse: or, hadst thou worth wrapt in a rivell'd skin, 't were inaccessible. who durst go in to find it out? for sooner would i go to find a pearle cover'd with hills of snow; 't were buried vertue, and thou mightst me move to reverence the tombe, but not to love,-- no more than dotingly to cast mine eye upon the urne where lucrece' ashes lye. but thou art faire and sweet, and every good that ever yet durst mixe with flesh and blood: the devill ne're saw in his fallen state an object whereupon to ground his hate so fit as thee; all living things but he love thee; how happy, then, must that man be whom from amongst all creatures thou dost take! is there a hope beyond it? can he make a wish to change thee for? this is my blisse, let it run on now; i know what it is. the poet of this tribute is not wooing, but worshiping the woman won; reverently striving to comprehend an ineffable joy. the poem is not of praises such as beaumont in his epistle _ad comitissam rutlundiae_ contemns, praises "bestow'd at most need on a thirsty soul." the writer, here, purports to examine into his mistress's perfections, but, like the author of the epistle to the countess, he examines not at all,--he observes the reticence for which beaumont there had given the reason,-- nor do the virtuous-minded (which i swear madam, i think you are) endure to hear their own perfections into question brought, but stop their ears at them. when the lines of the _examination_ are set beside the undoubted poems of beaumont, they appear, in rhetoric, metaphor, and sentiment, to be of a type with the two tributes to lady rutland; in vocabulary, rhyme, and run-on lines, also, to be of one font with them, and with the letter to ben jonson and the elegy to lady clifton. when the lines are set beside those of beaumont's own phrasing in the dramas, one finds that in their brief compass they echo the metaphor of his amintor, "my soul grows weary of her house,"--the hyperbole of his philaster, "i will sooner trust the wind with feathers, or the troubled sea with pearl,"--the passionate ecstasy of his arbaces, "here i acknowledge thee, my hope ... a happinesse as high as i could thinke ... paradice is there!" the tribute is a variant of those closing lines in _a king and no king_, i have a thousand joyes to tell you of, which yet i dare not utter, till i pay my thankes to heaven for um. i date this poem, then or , a year or two after the play just mentioned and the epistle to lady rutland; and i imagine with some confidence that it was written by beaumont for ursula isley, whom he married about this time. ursula's father, henry isley, belonged to a family of landed gentry which had been seated since the reign of edward ii in the parish of sundridge, kent. the manor came to them from the de freminghams in . in sir harry isley and his son, william, who were prominent upholders of the reformed religion, had joined hands with the gallant young sir thomas wyatt of allington castle--about seventeen miles from sundridge--in the rebellion which he raised in protest against the proposed marriage of queen mary with philip of spain. at blacksole field, near wrotham, half-way between sundridge and allington, the isley contingent was met and routed by sir robert southwell and lord abergavenny; and the vast isley estates were confiscated. a considerable part was restored to william within a year or two. but he falling into debt had to sell the larger portion; and for the manor of sundridge itself, he appears to have paid fee farm rent to the crown. by will, probably september , , william's son, henry, left all his "manners, lands, tenements, and hereditaments, in the countie of kent or else where within the realme of england, unto jane my lovinge wief in fee simple, viz{^t} to her and her heires for ever, to the end and purpose that she maye doe sell or otherwise dispose at her discretion the same, or such parte or soe much thereof as to her shall seeme fitt, for the payement of all my just and true debts ... and also for the bringing up and preferment in marriage of ursula and una, the two daughters or children of her the said jane, my lovinge wief." that the children were not, however, stepdaughters of henry, is pointed out by dyce, who quotes the manuscript of vincent's _leicester_, : "ursula, the daughter and coheir [evidently with una] of henry isley."[ ] in fact, henry had named ursula after his mother, the daughter of nicholas clifford. it will be remembered that beaumont's sister elizabeth became the wife of a thomas seyliard of kent. the seyliards were one of the oldest families in the vicinity of sundridge; and thomas would be of brasted, which adjoins sundridge westward, a quarter of a mile from sundridge place and near the river darenth; or of delaware at the south of the parish; or of gabriels about a mile from there and seven miles south of sundridge; or of chidingstone close by; or boxley.[ ] if elizabeth was married before , it is easy to surmise that during some visit to her, beaumont was brought acquainted with ursula isley of sundridge place. if not, we may refer the acquaintance to sojournings with his friend, fletcher, at cranbrook or at the kentish homes of fletcher's stepsisters, or with their cousins, the sackvilles. we have no proof that francis beaumont wrote more than one drama after the whitehall festivities of february . two plays in which he is supposed by some to have had a hand with fletcher, _the captaine_ and _the honest man's fortune_, were acted during that year; but i find no trace of francis in the latter and but slight possibility of it in the former. we must conclude that from he lived as a country gentleman. he would be much more likely to take up his abode at sundridge, which, as we have seen, belonged to his wife and her sister, than at grace-dieu manor; for that was occupied by john beaumont who had four sons to provide for. it is, of course, barely possible that one of his father's properties in leicestershire or derby may have fallen to him,--cottons, for instance, in the latter county, or that "manner house of normanton, and a close ther called the parke" mentioned in the judge's will and in which house-room was given by him to a "servaunte ... for the tearme of eleaven yeares" beginning . but the probabilities all point to the manor house in kent as the scene of beaumont's closing years.[ ] sundridge place lies, as we know, just south of chevening and west of sevenoaks. the old manor house in which, we may presume, beaumont and ursula lived, and where his children were born, has long since disappeared. but the old church, just north of the place, with its early english and perpendicular architecture still stands much as in their day. the old brass tablets to the isleys of two centuries are there, and the altar-tomb of the john isley and his wife who died a century before beaumont was born. near this memorial we may imagine that beaumont and ursula sat of a sunday; and through this same picturesque graveyard, breathing peace, they would pass home again. some days they would take the half-hour stroll across the forks of the darenth, by combebank in the chalk hills and through the woods, to chevening house, and drink a cup with old sampson lennard and his son, sir henry, and fletcher's stepsister chrysogona (grisogone), now lord and lady dacre, and make merry with their seven youngsters; and, coming back by the pilgrim's road that makes for the shrine of the "holy blissful martir," beaumont would quote, from speght's edition of chaucer which had appeared but thirteen years before, something merry of the well nyne and twenty in a companye, of sondry folk, by aventure y-falle in felawshipe, and pilgrims were they alle, that toward caunterbury wolden ryde. or sometimes they would tramp across to squerries and fish in the darenth for the bream of which spenser had written; perhaps, visit their sister seyliard that same evening. another summer day, francis would ride the ten miles north toward chislehurst (ashes of napoleon _le petit_!), and turn aside to pay his compliments to the proprietor of camden place, ben jonson's friend the antiquary. but we may suppose that more gladly and frequently than to any other spot, this dramatist-turned-squire, and settled down for health and leisure, would head his horse for knole; and, galloping the hills through chipstead and sevenoaks up to the old church that crowns the height, would steady to a trot along the stately avenue of the park amid its beeches and sycamores,--resting his eye on broad sweeps of pasture-land and distant groves, and thinking poetry,--to be greeted within one short half-hour from the time he left the place, by that most hospitable nobleman of the day, the noblest patron of poetry and art, richard sackville, third earl of dorset. they would pace--these two lovers of ben jonson, and worshippers of the first dramatist-earl--the great hall, together, talking of plays, of the burning of the globe while _henry viii_ was on the boards, or of the opening of the new blackfriars, or of overbury's poisoning, and the scandalous marriage of rochester and lady essex, or of sir henry nevill's chances in the matter of the secretaryship, or of winwood's appointment, or of raleigh's grievances, or of the new favourite, young villiers of brooksby, or of the long existing grievance of beaumont's catholic cousins, in and after all the more acute because of the hopes and fears thronging that other subject of discussion which doubtless would occupy a place in any conversation, the negotiations of don diego sarmiento for a spanish marriage. perhaps they would stretch their legs out to the fire before the old andirons that had once been henry viii's, and talk of the tragic romance of young william seymour and lady arabella stuart, the cousin alike of robert pierrepoint and his majesty, james i; or of the indictment and fall of somerset. or they would stroll to the chapel, and decipher the carvings of the crucifixion which mary, queen of scots, had given to the earl's brother, now dead. or the earl would point out some new portrait of that wonderful collection, then forming, of literary men in the dining-room, and beaumont would pass judgment upon the presentment of some of his own contemporaries. then down the drive by which the sheep are browsing and the deer, like agag delicately picking their way, and back to sundridge of the isleys, and to ursula; maybe to an afternoon of lazy writing on scenes that fletcher has called for--perhaps the posset-night of sir roger and abigail for the beginning of _the scornful ladie_. in or , the poet's first child, a daughter, was born and was appropriately named after the two elizabeths who had touched most closely upon his life. but the days of wedded happiness--"this is my blisse, let it run on now!"--were brief. on march , , he died,--only thirty-one years of age.[ ] the lines written to lady rutland, some five years before, what little wit i have is not yet grown so near unto the grave, but that i can, by that dim fading light, perceive of what, or unto whom i write, may have been conceived merely in humorous self-depreciation. but when we couple them with the epitaph written by john of grace-dieu "upon my deare brother, francis beaumont,"-- on death, thy murd'rer, this revenge i take: i slight his terrour, and just question make, which of us two the best precedence have-- mine to this wretched world, thine to the grave. thou shouldst have followed me, but death to blame miscounted yeeres, and measur'd age by fame: _so dearely hast thou bought thy precious lines; their praise grew swiftly, so thy life declines._ thy muse, the hearer's queene, the reader's love, all eares, all hearts (but death's), could please and move;-- when we couple the dramatist's own words of his "wit not yet grown so near unto the grave" with these of his brother which i have italicized, and reflect that for the last three years francis seems to have written almost nothing, we are moved to conjecture that his early death was not unconnected with an excessive devotion to his art, and that his health had been for some time failing. as darley long ago pointed out,[ ] the lines of bishop corbet "on mr. francis beaumont (then newly dead)" may intend more than a poetical conceit; and they would confirm the probability suggested above. he that hath such acuteness and such wit, as would ask ten good heads to husband it; he that can write so well, that no man dare refuse it for the best, let him beware: beaumont is dead; _by whose sole death appears, wit's a disease consumes men in few years_.-- and this conjecture is borne out by the portrait of the weary beaumont that now hangs in nuneham. three days after his death the dramatist was buried in that part of westminster abbey which, since spenser was laid there to the left of chaucer's empty grave, had come to be regarded as the poets' corner. beaumont lies to the right of chaucer's gray marble on the east side of the south transept in front of st. benedict's chapel. in what honour he was held we gather from the consideration that, of poets, only chaucer and spenser had preceded him to a resting place in the abbey; and that of his contemporaries, only four writers of verse followed him: his brother, sir john, who died some eleven years later, and lies beside him; his old friend, michael drayton, in ; hugh holland, in ; and that friend of all four, ben jonson, in . on the "learned" or "historical" side of the transept, across the way from the poets, lie also only three of beaumont's generation: casaubon the philologist, hakluyt the voyager, and ben jonson's master and benefactor--"most reverend head, to whom i owe all that i am in acts, all that i know,"--camden the antiquary. "in the poetical quarter," writes addison, a hundred years later, "i found there were poets who had no monuments, and monuments which had no poets." of the former category is beaumont; of the latter, the alabaster bust of drayton whose body lies under the north wall of the nave, and the monument to jonson, who, having no one rich enough to "lay out funeral charges upon him," stands, in accordance with his own desire, on his "eighteen inches of square ground" under a paving-stone in the north aisle of the nave,--and the figure of their associate, shakespeare, who, though there was much talk of transporting his body from stratford in the year of his death and beaumont's, did not, even in "preposterous" effigy, join his compeers of the poets' corner till more than a century had elapsed. upon beaumont's grave dryden's lofty pile encroaches. above the grave rises the bust of longfellow; and not far from beaumont, tennyson and browning were lately laid to rest. the verses, _on the tombs in westminster_, attributed to our poet-dramatist, are of doubtful authorship, but in diction and turn of thought they are paralleled by more than one of the poems which we have found to be his:-- mortality, behold, and feare, what a change of flesh is here! thinke how many royall bones sleep within these heap of stones: here they lye, had realmes and lands, who now want strength to stir their hands; where from their pulpits, seal'd with dust, they preach "in greatnesse is not trust." here's an acre sown, indeed, with the richest, royall'st seed that the earth did e're suck in since the first man dy'd for sin: here the bones of birth have cry'd, "though gods they were, as men they dy'd"; here are sands, ignoble things, dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings. here's a world of pomp and state buried in dust, once dead by fate. if the lines are not by francis, they still preach the calm, deterministic spirit of his poems and his tragedies; and they are worthy of him. beaumont's surviving brother of grace-dieu continued for many years to write epistolary, panegyric, and religious poems, which won increasing favour among scholars and at court. they were collected and published by his son, in . of his _battle of bosworth field_, which contains some genuinely poetic passages, i have already spoken. in his lines to james i _concerning the true forme of english poetry_, composed probably the year of francis' death, or the year after, he desiderates regularity of rhyme, pure phrase, fit epithets, a sober care of metaphors, descriptions cleare, yet rare, similitudes contracted, smooth and round, not vex't by learning, but with nature crown'd,-- strong and unaffected language, and noble subject. they made an impression upon his contemporaries in verse; and, though he was but a minor poet, he has come to be recognized as one of the "first refiners" of the rhyming couplet,--a forerunner, in the limpid style, of waller, denham, and cowley. his translations from horace, juvenal, persius, and prudentius are done with spirit. his later poems set him before us an eminently pious soul, kindly, courtly, and cultivated. his greatest work, the _crowne of thornes_, in eight books, is lost. it was evidently dedicated to shakespeare's earl of southampton, for in his elegy on the earl, , he says: shall ever i forget with what delight he on my simple lines would cast his sight? his onely mem'ry my poore worke adornes, he is a father to my crowne of thornes: now since his death how can i ever looke without some tears, upon that orphan booke? that this poem was printed we gather also from the elegy of thomas hawkins upon sir john. i have already said that john was raised by charles i, undoubtedly through the influence of the duke of buckingham, to the baronetcy in . he died only a year or two later,[ ] and was lamented in verse by his sons, and by poets and scholars of the day. on the appearance of his poetical remains, jonson wrote "this booke will live; it hath a genius," and "i confesse a beaumont's booke to be the bound and frontire of our poetrie." and drayton-- there is no splendour, which our pens can give by our most labour'd lines, can make thee live like to thine owne. in the commendatory poems, his friend, thomas nevill,[ ] praises his goodness, his knowledge and his art. sir thomas hawkins of nash court, kent,--connected through hugh holland and edmund bolton with the circle of sir john's acquaintances,--emphasizes the modesty, regularity, moral and religious devotion no less of his life than of his poetry. his sons rejoice that "his draughts no sensuall waters ever stain'd." his brother-in-law, george fortescue of leicestershire, and others swell the chorus of affection. he was, says the historian of leicestershire who knew him well,--william burton, the brother of that rector of segrave, near by, who wrote the _anatomy of melancholy_,--he was "a gentleman of great learning, gravity, and worthiness." sir john was succeeded at grace-dieu by john, his oldest son, who fought during the civil war for king charles, and fell at the siege of gloucester, in . other sons were gervase, who died in childhood, francis, who became a jesuit, and thomas, who succeeded in to the family title and estates. the manor of grace-dieu passed finally to the philips family of garendon park, about four miles from grace-dieu and half a mile from old judge beaumont's property of sheepshead. the founder of this family at garendon in was sir ambrose philips,[ ] the father of the ambrose who wrote the _pastorals_ and _the distrest mother_. from the philipses the present owners of garendon and grace-dieu, the phillipps de lisles, inherited. the old house is no longer standing. but below the new manor may be seen the ruins of the nunnery from which the master of the rolls almost four centuries ago evicted catherine ekesildena and her sister-nuns. it is interesting to note that the name de lisle, or lisle, is but a variant of that of francis beaumont's wife isley (de insula); and that the present family came from the isle of wight and kent, ursula isley's native county. i have not, however, yet been able to establish any direct connection between the sundridge isleys and the phillipps de lisles who came into the grace-dieu estates in . the sister of the beaumonts, elizabeth, was about twenty-four years old at the time of francis' marriage to ursula isley of kent. the date of her wedding to thomas seyliard does not appear; but before she was settled in the same county, and within a few miles of chevening, sundridge, and knole. of the events of her subsequent life we know nothing. that she cultivated poetry and the poets, however, may be inferred, from various passages in drayton's _muses elizium_. in the third, fourth, and eighth _nimphalls_, written as late as , the old poet introduces among his nymphs,--singing in the "poets paradice," which, i surmise, was terrestrially knole park,--the same "mirtilla" who in his eighth eglog of was "sister to those hopeful boys, ... thyrsis and sweet palmeo." only a year before the appearance of these _nimphalls_ drayton composed for the publication of her elder brother's poems, a lament "to the deare remembrance of his noble friend, sir john beaumont, baronet." mirtilla had outlived both thyrsis and palmeo, but not the affection of their life-long admirer and boon companion. the widow of the dramatist bore a child a few months after the father's death, and named her frances. in ursula administered her husband's estate;[ ] and she probably continued to live with her children at the family seat in sundridge. the elder daughter, elizabeth, was married to "a scotch colonel" and was living in scotland as late as . frances was never married. she seems to have cherished her father's fame as her richest possession. it was, indeed, probably her only possession, save a packet of his poems in manuscript which, we are told, she carried with her to ireland, but unfortunately "they were lost at sea"[ ] on her return. in she was "resident in the family of the duke of ormonde," then lord-lieutenant of ireland.[ ] she appears to have attended the high-spirited and capable duchess, or other ladies of the butler family, at the castle in dublin, or the family seat in kilkenny, as companion. under the protection of that loyal cavalier and christian statesman, james, duke of ormonde, whose prayer was ever "for the relieving and delivering the poor, the innocent, and the oppressed,"[ ] she must have known happiness, for at any rate a few years. she was retired by the duke, apparently after the death of the duchess, in , on a pension of one hundred pounds a year; and this competence we learn that she still enjoyed in , when at the age of eighty-four she was living in leicestershire,--let us hope in her father's old home of grace-dieu. she may have survived to see the accession of queen anne. we know merely that she died before . her life bridges the space from the day of her father, shakespeare's younger contemporary, to that of her father's encomiast, dryden, and further still to that of congreve, vanbrugh, farquhar, and addison; and we are thus helped to realize that in the arithmetic of generations beaumont's times and thought are after all not so far removed from our own. two more such spans of human existence would link his day with that of tennyson, browning, and swinburne. footnotes: [ ] _works of b. and f._, i, ii-iii. [ ] hasted's _history of kent_ ( ), ii, ; iii, , , . [ ] for sundridge and the isleys, see hasted's _kent_, ii, - ; iii, - , - ; and _cal, s. p._ (_dom._) jan. , feb. , . [ ] jonson's statement to drummond "ere he was thirty years of age" is incorrect, or was misreported. [ ] _introduction to the works of b. and f._, ed. , i, xviii. [ ] according to the register of burials in westminster abbey, ; but some authorities say . see dyce, i, xxi; chalmer's _english poets_, vi, , and grosart's edition of his poems. [ ] this is certainly not the master of trinity college, cambridge, as grosart opines,--for the simple reason that the master died thirteen years before sir john. [ ] nichols, _coll. hist., leic.,-bibl. top. britt._, viii, , . [ ] a. b. grosart, in _d. n. b._, art. _francis beaumont_. [ ] preface to _b. and f.'s works_, ed. , p. . [ ] dyce, vol. i, p. , from _ms., vincent's leicester_, . [ ] james wills, _lives of illustrious and distinguished irishmen_, , vol. iii, pt. ii, p. . chapter xiii the personality, and the contemporary reputation of beaumont our poet's contemporaries saw him, not as one of my scholarly friends, professor herford, judging apparently from the crude engraving of ,[ ] or from that of , sees him, "of heavy and uninteresting features," but as swinburne saw him, probably in robinson's engraving of , "handsome and significant in feature and expression alike ... with clear thoughtful eyes, full arched brows, and strong aquiline nose with a little cleft at the tip; a grave and beautiful mouth, with full and finely-curved lips; the form of face a long pure oval, and the imperial head, with its 'fair large front' and clustering hair, set firm and carried high with an aspect at once of quiet command and kingly observation";[ ] as we see him to-day in the soft and speaking photogravure[ ] recently made from the portrait at knole park or in the reproduction of [ ] of the portrait which belongs to the rt. hon. lewis harcourt at nuneham,--a courtly gentleman of noble mien, of countenance dignified, beautiful, and mobile, and of dreamy eyes somewhat saddened as by physical suffering, or by sympathetic pondering on the mystery of life. the original at knole was already there, in the time of lionel, seventh earl of dorset, , and in default of information to the contrary we may conclude that it has always been in the possession of the sackville family, and was painted for beaumont's contemporary, and i have ventured to surmise friend as well as neighbour, richard, third earl of dorset,--who had succeeded to the earldom in --about the year of _philaster_. i have already shown that the sackvilles were connected with the fletchers by marriage. they were also patrons of beaumont's friends, jonson and drayton. while the third earl was still living, poor old ben writes to son, edward sackville, a grateful epistle for succouring his necessities. and to the same edward, as fourth earl,[ ] drayton dedicated, , the _nimphalls_ of his _muses elizium_, and to his countess, mary, the _divine poems_, published therewith. if, as others have conjectured, the earl is himself the dorilus of the _nimphalls_, the exquisite _description of elizium_ which precedes, may be, after the fashion of the poets and painters of the renaissance, an idealized picture of knole park, where drayton probably had been received: a paradice on earth is found, though farre from vulgar sight, which, with those pleasures doth abound, that it elizium hight,-- of its groves of stately trees, its merle and mavis, its daisies damasking the green, its spreading vines upon the "cleeves," its ripening fruits: the poets paradice this is, to which but few can come; the muses onely bower of blisse, their deare elizium. it was the widow of the third earl, anne (clifford), countess of dorset and, afterwards, of pembroke and montgomery,[ ] who erected the monument to drayton in the poets' corner. that beaumont was acquainted with this family of poets and patrons of art is, therefore, in every way more than probable; and there is a poetic pleasure in the reflection that the family still retains, in the house which beaumont probably often visited, this noble presentment of the dramatist. the portrait at nuneham, which i have mentioned above, is not so life-like as that at knole: it lacks the shading. but it is for us most expressive: it is that of an older man, spade-bearded, of broader brow, higher cheek-bones, and face falling away toward the chin; of the same magnanimity and grace, but with eyes more almond-shaped and sensitive, and eloquent of illness. it is the likeness of beaumont approaching the portals of death. [illustration: by permission of mr. lewis harcourt. the beaumont of the nuneham portrait] of the personality of beaumont we have already had glimpses through the window of his non-dramatic poems. his letter to ben jonson has revealed him chafing in enforced exile from london, amusedly tolerant of the "standing family-jests" of country gentlemen, tired of "water mixed with claret-lees," "with one draught" of which "man's invention fades," and yearning for the mermaid wine of poetic converse, "nimble, and full of subtle flame." other verses to jonson and to fletcher express his scorn of "the wild applause of common people," his confidence in sympathetic genius and time as the only arbiters of literary worth. in still other poems, lyric, epistolary, and elegiac, we have savoured the tang of his humour,--unsophisticated, somewhat ammoniac; and from them have caught his habit of emotional utterance, frank and sincere, whether in admiration, love, or indignation. we have grown acquainted with his reverence for womanly purity; with his religion of suffering, his recognition of mortal pathos, irony, futility, and yet of inscrutable purpose and control, and of the countervailing serenity that awaits us in the grave. an amusing side-light is thrown upon his character by jonson who told drummond of hawthornden, that "francis beaumont loved too much himself and his own verses." we are glad to know that a man of jonson's well-attested self-esteem encountered in beaumont an arrogance and a consciousness of poetic superiority; that even this "great lover and praiser of himself, contemner and scorner of others," for whom spenser's stanzas were not pleasing, nor his matter, and "shakespeare wanted art,"--that even this great brow-beater of his contemporaries in literature, recognized in our poet a self-esteem which even he could not bully out of him. but we must not be harsh in our judgment of drummond's ben jonson, for though he "was given rather to lose a friend than a jest and was jealous of every word and action of those about him," this is not the ben who some seven years earlier had written "how i do love thee, beaumont, and thy muse"; this is ben as drummond saw him in --ben talking "especially after drink which is one of the elements in which he liveth." that beaumont's affection and geniality of intercourse were reciprocated not only by jonson, but by others, we learn from lines written to, or of, him by men of worth. his judgment as a critic was recognized by his contemporaries, as well as the poetic brilliance of the dramas which he was creating under their eyes. his language, too, was praised for its distinction while he was yet living. in the manuscript outline of the _hypercritica_, which appears to have been filled in at various times between and , bolton says: "the books out of which wee gather the most warrantable english are not many to my remembrance.... but among the cheife, or rather the cheife, are in my opinion these: sir thomas moore's works; ... george chapman's first seaven books of iliades; samuell danyell; michael drayton his heroicall epistles of england; marlowe his excellent fragment of hero and leander; shakespeare, mr. francis beamont, and innumerable other writers for the stage,--and [they] presse tenderly to be used in this argument; southwell, parsons, and some few other of that sort." in the final version of the _hypercritica_, prepared between and ,[ ] bolton omits the later dramatists altogether;[ ] but that is not to be construed by way of discrimination against shakespeare and beaumont. there is no doubt that bolton knew the beaumonts personally, and appreciated their worth, and as early as ;--for to his _elements of armories_ of that year, he prefixes a "letter to the author, from the learned young gentleman, i. b., of grace-dieu in the county of leicestershire, esquier,"[ ] who highly compliments the invention, judicial method, and taste displayed in the _elements_, and returns the manuscript with promise of his patronage. further information of the esteem in which francis was held, is afforded by the eulogies, direct or indirect, written soon after his death by those who were near enough to him in years to have known him, or to assess his worth untrammeled by the critical consensus of a generation that knew him not. the tender tributes of his brother and of his contemporary, dr. corbet, successively bishop of oxford, and of norwich, have already been quoted. a so-called "sonnet," signed i. f., included in an harleian manuscript between two poems undoubtedly by fletcher, may not have been intended for the dead poet; but i agree with dyce, who first printed it,[ ] that it seems "very like fletcher's epicede on his beloved associate":-- come, sorrow, come! bring all thy cries, all thy laments, and all thy weeping eyes! burn out, you living monuments of woe! sad sullen griefs, now rise and overflow! virtue is dead; o cruel fate! all youth is fled; all our laments too late. oh, noble youth, to thy ne'er-dying name, oh, happy youth, to thy still-growing fame, to thy long peace in earth, this sacred knell our last loves ring--farewell, farewell, farewell! go, happy soul, to thy eternal birth! and press his body lightly, gentle earth! what the young readers of contemporary poetry at the universities thought of him is nowhere better expressed than in the lines written immediately after the poet's death by the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old john earle;--he who was later fellow of merton; and in turn bishop of worcester, and of salisbury. the ardent lad is gazing in person or imagination on the new-filled tomb in the poets' corner, when he writes: beaumont lyes here; and where now shall we have a muse like his, to sigh upon his grave? ah, none to weepe this with a worthy teare, but he that cannot, beaumont that lies here. who now shall pay thy tombe with such a verse as thou that ladies didst, faire rutlands herse? a monument that will then lasting be, when all her marble is more dust than she. in thee all's lost: a sudden dearth and want hath seiz'd on wit, good epitaphs are scant; we dare not write thy elegie, whilst each feares he nere shall match that coppy of thy teares. scarce in an age a poet,--and yet he scarce lives the third part of his age to see, but quickly taken off, and only known, is in a minute shut as soone as showne.... why should nature take such pains to perfect that which ere perfected she shall destroy?-- beaumont dies young, so sidney died before; there was not poetry he could live to, more: he could not grow up higher; i scarce know if th' art it self unto that pitch could grow, were 't not in thee that hadst arriv'd the hight of all that wit could reach, or nature might.... the elegist likens beaumont to menander, whose few sententious fragments show more worth than all the poets athens ere brought forth; and i am sorry i have lost those houres on them, whose quicknesse comes far short of ours, and dwelt not more on thee, whose every page may be a patterne to their scene and stage. i will not yeeld thy workes so mean a prayse-- more pure, more chaste, more sainted than are playes, nor with that dull supinenesse to be read, to passe a fire, or laugh an houre in bed.... why should not beaumont in the morning please, as well as plautus, aristophanes? who, if my pen may as my thoughts be free, were scurrill wits and buffons both to thee.... yet these are wits, because they'r old, and now being greeke and latine, they are learning too: but those their owne times were content t' allow a thriftier fame, and thine is lowest now. but thou shall live, and, when thy name is growne six ages older, shall be better knowne; when thou'rt of chaucers standing in the tombe, thou shall not share, but take up all his roome.[ ] a panegyric liberal in the superlatives of youth but, in view of passages to be quoted elsewhere, one of the sanest as well as earliest appreciations of beaumont's distinctive quality as a dramatist; an appreciation such as the historian might expect from a collegian who, a dozen years later, was not only one of the most genial and refined scholars of his generation but, perhaps, the most accurate observer and epitomist of the familiar types and minor morals of his day,--a writer who in is still championing the cause of contemporary poetry. in his characterization of the vulgar-spirited man "that is taken only with broad and obscene wit, and hisses anything too deep for him; that cries, chaucer for his money above all our english poets, because the voice has gone so, and he has read none," the earle of the _microcosmographie_ is but repeating the censure of his elegy on beaumont in . about , we find a contemporary of altogether different class from that of the university student acknowledging the fame of beaumont, the thames waterman, john taylor. this self-advertising tramp and rollicking scribbler mentions him in _the praise of hemp-seed_ with chaucer, spencer, shakespeare, and others, as of those who, "in paper-immortality, doe live in spight of death, and cannot die." and not far separated from taylor's testimonial in point of time is william basse's prediction of a prouder immortality. basse who was but two years older than beaumont, and, as we have seen, was one of the pastoral group with which beaumont's career was associated, is writing of "mr. william shakespeare" who had died six weeks after beaumont,--and he thus apostrophizes the westminster poets of the corner: renownèd spencer, lye a thought more nye to learnèd chaucer, and rare beaumont lye a little neerer spencer, to make roome for shakespeare in your threefold, fowerfold tombe. to lodge all foure in one bed make a shift untill doomesdaye, for hardly will a fift, betwixt this day and that, by fate be slayne for whom your curtaines may be drawn againe. the date of the sonnet of which these are the opening lines can be only approximately determined. it must be earlier, however, than ; for in that year jonson alludes to it in verses presently to be quoted. and it must be later than the erection of the monument to shakespeare's memory in trinity church, stratford, in or soon after , for in the lines which follow those given above the writer apostrophizes shakespeare as sleeping "under this carvèd marble of thine owne." the sonnet contemplates the removal of shakespeare's remains to westminster, and arranges the poets already lying there not in actual but chronological order.[ ] to these verses jonson, as i have said, alludes in the series of stanzas prefixed to the shakespeare folio of ,--_to the memory of my beloved, the author, mr. william shakespeare and what he hath left us._ ben jonson intends, however, no slight to beaumont and the other poets mentioned by basse, when, in his rapturous eulogy, he declines to regard them as the peers of shakespeare. on the contrary this lover at heart, and in his best moments, of beaumont, bestows a meed of praise: they are "great muses,"--chaucer, spenser, beaumont,--but merely "disproportioned," if one judge critically, in the present comparison, as are, indeed, lyly, kyd, and marlowe. not these, but "thundering Æschylus," euripides, and sophocles, pacuvius, accius, "him of cordova dead," must be summoned to life againe to heare thy buskin tread and shake a stage. therefore it is, that jonson calls-- my shakespeare rise; i will not lodge thee by chaucer, or spenser, or bid beaumont lye a little further to make thee a roome: thou art a moniment without a toombe, and art alive still, while thy booke doth live, and we have wits to read, and praise to give. that i not mixe thee so, my braine excuses; i meane with great, but disproportion'd muses. that beaumont was regarded by his immediate contemporaries not as a professional, but literary, dramatist,--a poet, and a person of social eminence,--appears from drayton's _epistle to henery reynolds, esq., of poets and poesy_, published , from which i have earlier quoted. here the writer, appraising the poets "who have enrich'd our language with their rhymes" informs his "dearly loved friend" that he does not meane to run in quest of these that them applause have wonne upon our stages in these latter dayes, that are so many; let them have their bayes, that doe deserve it; let those wits that haunt those publique circuits, let them freely chaunt their fine composures, and their praise pursue; and thus, we may conjecture, he excuses the omission of such men as middleton, fletcher, and massinger. beginning with chaucer, "the first of ours that ever brake into the muses' treasure, and first spake in weighty numbers," drayton pays especial honour to "grave, morall spencer," "noble sidney ... heroe for numbers and for prose," marlowe with his "brave translunary things," shakespeare of "as smooth a comicke vaine ... as strong conception, and as cleere a rage, as any one that trafiqu'd with the stage," "learn'd johnson.... who had drunke deepe of the pierian spring," and "reverend chapman" for his translations: then he passes to men of letters whom he had loved, alexander and drummond, and concludes the roll-call with his two beaumonts and his browne, his bosom friends, rightly born poets and "men of much note, and no lesse nobler parts." this letter not only speaks the opinion of drayton concerning the standing of the two beaumonts in poetry, but incidentally asserts the popularity of their work, for the author informs his correspondents that he "ties himself here only to those few men" whose works oft printed, set on every post, to publique censure subject have bin most. by all of the dramas in which francis had an undoubted share, except _the coxcombe_ had been printed; and some of his poems had appeared as early as in a little volume that included also drayton's elegies on lady penelope clifton and the three sons of lord sheffield, and verses by 'n. h.' [illustration: michael drayton from the portrait in the dulwich gallery] this volume is henry fitzgeffrey's _certayn elegies done by sundrie excellent wits_ (fr. beau., m. dr., n. h.), with _satyres and epigrames_. fitzgeffrey, by the way, was of lincoln's inn in beaumont's time; and so were others connected with this volume, by dedications or commendatory verses: fitzgeffrey's "chamber-fellow and nearest friend, nat. gurlin"; thomas fletcher, and john stephens, the satirist, who had been entered member of the inn in . they must all have been known by beaumont when he was writing his elegies. the 'n. h.' thus posthumously associated with our dramatist was, i think, the mathematician, philosopher, and poet, nicholas hill[ ] beaumont could not have failed to know him. he was of st. john's college, oxford; he wrote and published a _philosophia epicurea democritiana_ to which, mentioning him by name, ben jonson alludes in his epigram (cxxxiv) _of the famous voyage_ of the two wights who "at bread-streets _mermaid_ having dined and merry, propos'd to goe to holborne in a wherry." he was the secretary and favourite of edward de vere, earl of oxford, was a good deal of a wag, and well acquainted with our old friend serjeant hoskyns of the _convivium philosophicum_. he died in . whether the anonymous writer on _the time poets_[ ] was a personal acquaintance of beaumont we cannot tell. the definite qualities of the poet which he emphasizes are, however, as likely to be drawn from life and conversation as from the perusal of his dramas. the lines, apparently composed between and , begin, one night, the great apollo, pleas'd with ben, made the odde number of the muses ten; the fluent fletcher, beaumont rich in sense, in complement and courtship's quintessence; ingenious shakespeare, massinger that knows the strength of plot to write in verse or prose,-- and continue with "cloud-grappling chapman" and others, as of the ten muses. that thomas heywood, the dramatist, was a personal friend,--we may be sure,--the kind of friend who having a sense of humour did not resent beaumont's genial satire in _the knight of the burning pestle_ upon his bourgeois drama of _the foure prentises_ of london. writing as late as , he remembers francis as a wit: excellent bewmont, in the formost ranke of the rarest wits, was never more than franck.-- the touch of familiarity with which heywood[ ] causes that whole row of poets, many of them then dead, robin green, kit marlowe, the toms (kyd, watson and nashe), mellifluous will, ben, and the rest, to live for posterity as human, and lovable, gracefully heightens the compliment for one and all. we may surmise that one more eulogist of beaumont, his kinsman,[ ] sir george lisle, a marvellously gallant cavalier, who distinguished himself at newberry, and was shot by order of fairfax about the end of the civil war, was old enough in to have known our poet. though sir george, in his verses for the beaumont and fletcher folio of , lays special stress upon the close-woven fancy of the two playwrights, he seems to have a first-hand information, not common to the younger writers of these commendatory poems, concerning beaumont's share in at least one of the tragedies. he ascribes to him, not to fletcher,--as we know by modern textual tests, correctly,--the nobler scenes of "brave mardonius" in _a king and no king_. one attaches, therefore, more than mere literary, or hearsay, significance to his selection for special praise of beaumont's force, when he says, thou strik'st our sense so deep, at once thou mak'st us blush, rejoyce, and weep. great father johnson bow'd himselfe when hee (thou writ'st so nobly) vow'd he envy'd thee. footnotes: [ ] from the portrait at knole park. [ ] _encyc. brit., sub nomine._ [ ] by cockerell, in the _variorum edition of b. and f.'s works_, vol. i, . see frontispiece to this volume. [ ] _historical portraits_, vol. ii, - , oxford, . [ ] not to the third earl, richard, as cyril brett, _drayton's minor poems_, p. xix, has it. [ ] clark's _aubrey's brief lives_, ii, , . not mary (curzon), the wife of the fourth earl, as professor elton, _drayton_ ( ), p. , has it. [ ] after the appearance of montague's edition of king james's _works_, and before the execution of raleigh. [ ] save for non-dramatic productions such as ben jonson's _epigrams_, etc. [ ] grosart, _d. n. b._, art, _sir john beaumont_, and _sir j. b.'s poems_, xxxvi. [ ] _b. and f._, vol. i, lii. [ ] revised by earle for the _commendatory verses_, folio ; but i have retained some of the readings of the copy included in beaumont's _poems_. [ ] the version given above is that of brit. mus. _ms. lansdowne_ . of other versions one is attributed to donne; but the lansdowne is the most authentic, and the evidence of authorship is all for basse, whose name follows in the lansdowne manuscript. so, miss l. t. smith in _centurie of praise_, p. . [ ] mr. bullen, _d. n. b._, under _fitzgeffrey_, queries "nathaniel hooke." i have not been able to identify hooke. [ ] _choice drollery, songs, and sonnets, , in sh. soc. pap._, iii, . [ ] _the hierarchie of the blessed angells._ [ ] through the villierses and therefore probably through the coleorton beaumonts. chapter xiv tradition, and traditional criticism what we learn from tradition, and from the criticism of the century following beaumont's death, adds little to what we already have observed concerning his life and personality. concerning his share in the joint-plays, it adds much, mostly wrong; but of that, later. mosely, in his address of _the stationer to the readers_ prefixed to the folio of , announces that knowing persons had generally assured him "that these authors were the most unquestionable wits this kingdome hath afforded. mr. beaumont was ever acknowledged a man of a most strong and searching braine; and (his yeares considered) the most judicious wit these later ages have produced. he dyed young, for (which was an invaluable losse to this nation) he left the world when hee was not full thirty yeares old. mr. fletcher survived, and lived till almost fifty; whereof the world now enjoyes the benefit." the dramatist, shirley, in his address _to the reader_ of the folio, says "it is not so remote in time, but very many gentlemen may remember these authors; and some familiar in their conversation deliver them upon every pleasant occasion so fluent, to talke a comedy. he must be a bold man," continues he, with a prophetic commonsense, "that dares undertake to write their lives. what i have to say is, we have the precious remaines; and as the wisest contemporaries acknowledge they lived a miracle, i am very confident this volume cannot die without one." shirley also reminds the reader that but to mention beaumont and fletcher "is to throw a cloude upon all former names and benight posterity." "this book being, without flattery, the greatest monument of the scene that time and humanity have produced, and must live, not only the crowne and sole reputation of our owne, but the stayne of all other nations and languages." to such a pitch had the vogue of our dramatists risen in the thirty years after beaumont's death! not only shakespeare and learnèd ben, but sophocles and euripides may vail to them. "this being,"--and here we catch a vision from life itself,--"this being the authentick witt that made blackfriars an academy, where the three howers spectacle while beaumont and fletcher were presented, were usually of more advantage to the hopefull young heire, than a costly, dangerous, forraigne travell, with the assistance of a governing mounsieur, or signior, to boote. and it cannot be denied but that the spirits of the time, whose birth and qualitie made them impatient of the sowrer ways of education, have from the attentive hearing these pieces, got ground in point of wit and carriage of the most severely employed students, while these recreations were digested into rules, and the very pleasure did edifie." so far as the plays printed in this folio are concerned, not much of this praise belongs to beaumont; for, as we now know, not more than two of them, _the coxcombe_ and the _masque of the inner temple_, bear his impress. but shirley is thinking of the reputation of the authors in general; and he writes with an eye to the sale of the book. since we shall presently find opportunity to consider the trend of opinion during the seventeenth century regarding the respective shares of the dramatists in composition, but a word need be said here upon the subject,--and that as to the origin of a tradition speedily exaggerated into error: namely, that beaumont's function in the partnership was purely of gravity and critical acumen. from the verses of john berkenhead, an oxford man, born in , a writer of some lampooning ability and, in reader in moral philosophy at the university, we learn that, he, at least, thought it impossible to separate the faculties of the two dramatists, which "as two voices in one song embrace (fletcher's keen trebble, and deep beaumont's base"); that, however, there were some in his day who held "that one [fletcher] the sock, th' other [beaumont] the buskin claim'd," that should the stage embattaile all its force, fletcher would lead the foot, beaumont the horse; and that beaumont's was "the understanding," fletcher's "the quick free will." such discrimination, as i have said, berkenhead disavows; but he is of the opinion, nevertheless, that the rules by which their art was governed came from beaumont: so beaumont dy'd; yet left in legacy his rules and standard-wit (fletcher) to thee. and still another oxford man, born four years before beaumont's death, the reverend josias howe, reasserting the essential unity of their compositions, concedes with regard to fletcher,-- perhaps his quill flew stronger, when 't was weavèd with his beaumont's pen; and might with deeper wonder hit. these and similar statements of , essentially correct, concerning the force, depth, and critical acumen of beaumont had been anticipated in the testimonials printed during his lifetime and down to , especially in those of jonson, davies, drayton, and earle. a verdict, much more dogmatic, and responsible for the erroneous tradition which long survived, proceeded from one of the "sons of ben," william cartwright, himself an author of dramas, junior proctor of the university of oxford in , and "the most florid and seraphical preacher in the university." he may have derived the germ of his information from jonson himself, but he had developed it in a one-sided manner when, writing in "upon the report of the printing of the dramaticall poems of master john fletcher," he implied that the genius of "knowing beaumont" was purely restrictive and critical,--telling us that beaumont was fain to bid fletcher "be more dull," to "write again," to "bate some of his fire"; and that even when fletcher had "blunted and allayed" his genius according to the critic's command, the critic beaumont, not yet satisfied, added his sober spunge, and did contract thy plenty to lesse wit to make 't exact. this distorted image of beaumont's artistic quality as merely critical lived, as we shall see, for many a year. we shall, also, see that it is not from any such secondary sources that supplementary information regarding the poet himself is to be derived, but from a scientific determination of his share in the dramas ordinarily and vaguely assigned to an undifferentiated beaumont and fletcher. chapter xv a few words of fletcher's later years beside the dramas which there is any meritorious reason for assigning to the joint-authorship of the two friends, some dozen plays were produced by fletcher alone, or in collaboration with others, before the practical cessation, in , or thereabout, of beaumont's dramatic activity. after that time fletcher's name was attached, either as sole author or as the associate of massinger, field, william rowley, and perhaps others, to about thirty more. from on, he was the successor of shakespeare as dramatic poet of the king's players. jonson's masques delighted the court, but no writer of tragedy or comedy,--not jonson, nor philip massinger, who was now fletcher's closest associate, nor middleton or rowley, dekker, ford, or webster,--compared with him in popularity at court and in the city. he is not merely an illustrious personality, the principal author of harrowing tragedies such as _valentinian_, the sole author of tragicomedies such as _the loyall subject_, and long-lived comedies--_the chances_, _rule a wife and have a wife_, and several more,--he is a syndicate: he stands sponsor for plays like _the queene of corinth_ and _the knight of malta_ in which others collaborated largely with him; and his name is occasionally stamped upon plays of associates, in which he had no hand whatever. "thou grew'st," says his contemporary and admirer, john harris,-- "thou grew'st to govern the whole stage alone: in which orbe thy throng'd light did make the star, thou wert th' intelligence did move that sphear." dr. harris, professor of greek at oxford in the heyday of fletcher's glory, and a most distinguished divine, writes, in , as one who had known fletcher, personally,--observes his careless ease in composing, his manner of conversation, the stage grew narrow while thou grew'st to be in thy whole life an exc'llent comedie,-- and admires his behaviour: to these a virgin-modesty which first met applause with blush and fear, as if he yet had not deserv'd; till bold with constant praise his browes admitted the unsought-for bayes. so, addressing the public, concludes this panegyrist,-- hee came to be sole monarch, and did raign in wits great empire, abs'lute soveraign. it is of these years of triumph that another of "the large train of fletcher's friends," richard brome, ben jonson's faithful servant and loving friend, and his disciple in the drama, tells us: his works (says momus) nay, his plays you'd say: thou hast said right, for that to him was play which was to others braines a toyle: with ease he playd on waves which were their troubled seas.... but to the man againe, of whom we write, the writer that made writing his delight, rather then worke. he did not pumpe, nor drudge, to beget wit, or manage it; nor trudge to wit-conventions with note-booke, to gleane or steale some jests to foist into a scene: he scorn'd those shifts. you that have known him, know the common talke that from his lips did flow, and run at waste, did savour more of wit, then any of his time, or since have writ, (but few excepted) in the stages way: his scenes were acts, and every act a play. i knew him in his strength; even then when he-- that was the master of his art and me-- most knowing johnson (proud to call him sonne) in friendly envy swore, he had out-done his very selfe. i knew him till he dyed; and at his dissolution, what a tide of sorrow overwhelm'd the stage; which gave volleys of sighes to send him to his grave; and grew distracted in most violent fits (for she had lost the best part of her wits) ... "others," concludes this old admirer unpretentiously, others may more in lofty verses move; i onely, thus, expresse my truth and love. no better testimony to the character of the man who, even though jonson was still writing, became absolute sovereign of the stage after shakespeare and beaumont had ceased, can be found than such as the preceding. to fletcher's innate modesty, other contemporaries, lowin and taylor, who acted in many of his plays, bear testimony in the _dedication_ of _the wild-goose chase_: "the play was of so generall a receiv'd acceptance, that (he himself a spectator) we have known him unconcern'd, and to have wisht it had been none of his; he, as well as the throng'd theatre (in despite of his innate modesty) applauding this rare issue of his braine." he was the idol of his actors: "and now, farewell, our glory!" continue, in , these victims of "a cruell destinie"--the closing of the theatres at the outbreak of the civil war,--"farewell, your choice delight, most noble gentlemen! farewell, the grand wheel that set us smaller motions in action!"--the wheel of shakespeare, jonson, beaumont, fletcher, massinger.--"farewell, the pride and life o' the stage! nor can we (though in our ruin) much repine that we are so little, since he that gave us being is no more." fletcher was beloved of great men, as they themselves have left their love on record, of jonson, beaumont, chapman, massinger. if shakespeare collaborated with him, that speaks for itself. he was an inspiration to young pastoralists like browne, and to aspiring dramatists like field. he was a writer of sparkling genius and phenomenal facility. he was careless of myopic criticism, conscious of his dignity,--but unaffectedly simple,--averse to flattering his public or his patron for bread, or for acquaintance, or for the admiration of the indolent, or for "itch of greater fame."[ ] if we may take him at his word, and estimate him by the noblest lines he ever wrote,--the verses affixed to _the honest man's fortune_ (acted, ),--the keynote of his character as a man among men, was independence. to those "that can look through heaven, and tell the stars," he says: man is his own star, and the soul that can render an honest and a perfect man, commands all light, all influence, all fate; nothing to him falls early, or too late. our acts our angels are, or good or ill, our fatal shadows that walk by us still; and when the stars are labouring, we believe it is not that they govern, but they grieve for stubborn ignorance. that star is in "the image of thy maker's good": he is my star, in him all truth i find, all influence, all fate; and as for poverty, it is "the light to heaven ... nor want, the cause of man, shall make me groan"; for experience teaches us "all we can: to work ourselves into a glorious man." his mistress is not some star of love, with the increase to wealth or honour she may bring, but of knowledge and fair truth: so i enjoy all beauty and all youth, and though to time her lights and laws she lends, she knows no age, that to corruption bends.... perhaps through all this, there echoes the voice of that _præsul splendidus_, his father, the bishop, the friend of sir francis drake, of burghley, and of the forceful bishop bancroft,--a father solicitous, at any rate before he fell into the hands of his fashionable second wife and lost favour with the queen, for the "chrystian and godlie education" of his children. however that may be,--whether the noble idea of this confession of faith is a projection from the discipline of youth or an induction from the experience of life, the utterance of fletcher's inmost personality is here: man is his own star, and that soul that can be honest, is the only perfect man. though, in the plays where beaumont does not control, fletcher so freely reflects the loose morals of his age, the gross conventional misapprehension of woman's worth, even the cynicism regarding her essential purity,--though fletcher reflects these conditions in his later plays as well as in his early _faithfull shepheardesse_,[ ] and though he, for dramatic ends, accepts the material vulgarity of the lower classes and the perverted and decadent heroics of the upper, there still are "passages in his works where he recurs to a conception which undoubtedly had a very vital significance for him--that of a gentleman,"--to the "merit, manners, and inborn virtue" of the gentleman not conventional but genuine.[ ] in beaumont, that "man of a most strong and searching braine" whose writings and whose record speak the gentleman, he had had the example beside him in the flesh. what that meant is manifest in the encomium of francis palmer, written in from christ church, oxford, all commendations end in saying only: thou wert beaumont's friend. the engraving of fletcher in the folio was "cut by severall originall pieces," says mosely "which his friends lent me, but withall they tell me that his unimitable soule did shine through his countenance in such _ayre_ and _spirit_, that the painters confessed it was not easie to expresse him: as much as could be, you have here, and the graver hath done his part." the edition of is the first to publish "effigies" of both poets, "the head of mr. beaumont, and that of mr. fletcher, through the favour of the present earl of dorset [the seventh earl], being taken from originals in the noble collection his lordship has at knowles." the engravings in the theobald, seward and sympson edition of - are by g. vertue. the engravings in colman's edition of , are the same, debased. those in weber's edition of , are done afresh,--of beaumont by evans, of fletcher by blood--apparently from the knole originals. they are an improvement upon those of earlier editions. in dyce's edition of - , h. robinson's engraving of beaumont has nobility; his attempt at fletcher does not improve upon blood's. all these are in the reverse. the variorum edition of - gives the beautiful photogravure of beaumont of which i have already spoken, by walker and cockerell, from the original at knole park; and an equally soft and expressive photogravure of fletcher, by emery walker, from the painting in the national portrait gallery. for the first time the dramatists face as in the originals: beaumont, toward your left, fletcher, toward your right. fletcher's portrait in the national portrait gallery reveals a highbred, thoughtful countenance, large eyes unafraid, wide-awake and keen, the nose aquiline and sensitive, wavily curling hair, hastily combed back, or through which he has run his fingers, a careless, half-buttoned jerkin from which the shirt peeps forth,--all in all a man of more vivacious temper, ready and practical quality than beaumont. the authorities of the gallery, especially through the kindness of mr. j. d. milner, who has been good enough to look up various particulars for me, inform me that this portrait of john fletcher, no. , was purchased by the trustees in march , its previous history being unknown. the painting is by a contemporary but unknown artist, and is similar to the portrait at knole park. it was engraved in the reverse by g. vertue in . they also inform me that another portrait of a different type belongs to the earl of clarendon. this, i conjecture, must be that which john evelyn, in a letter to samuel pepys, august, , says he has seen in the first earl of clarendon's collection--"most of which [portraits], if not all, are at the present at cornebery in oxfordshire." but evelyn adds that "beaumont and fletcher were both in one piece." yet another portrait said to be of fletcher, painted in by c. janssen, belongs to the duke of portland. this janssen is the cornelius to whom the alleged portrait of shakespeare, now at bulstrode, is attributed. cornelius did not come to england before shakespeare's death; and, consequently, not before beaumont's. fletcher died in august . according to aubrey, "in the great plague, , a knight of norfolke (or suffolke) invited him into the countrey. he stayed but to make himselfe a suite of cloathes, and while it was makeing, fell sick of the plague and dyed. this i had [ ] from his tayler, who is now [ ] a very old man, and clarke of st. mary overy's." the dramatist was buried in st. saviour's, southwark, the twenty-ninth of that month. sir aston cockayne's statement, in an epitaph on fletcher and massinger, that they lie in the same grave, is probably figurative. aubrey tells us that massinger, who died in march , and whose burial is recorded in the register of st. saviour's, was buried not in the church, but about the middle of one of its churchyards, the bullhead, next the bullhead tavern. there are memorials now to both poets in the church, as also to shakespeare, and beaumont, and to edward alleyn, the actor of the old admiral's company. it is generally supposed that fletcher was never married. the name, john fletcher, was not unusual in the parish of st. saviour's, and the records of "john fletcher" marriages may, therefore, not involve the dramatist. but two items communicated to dyce[ ] by collier, "more in jest than in earnest," from the parish-registers, are suggestive, if we reflect that, about or , the _ménage à trois_, provided it continued so long, would have lapsed at the time of beaumont's marriage; and if we can swallow the stage-fiction of fletcher's "maid joan" in _bury-fair_ (see page above), whole and as something digestible. these are collier's cullings from the registers: . nov. . john fletcher and jone herring [were married]. _reg. of st. saviour's, southwark._ john, the son of john fletcher and of joan his wife was baptized feb., . _reg. of st. bartholomew the great._ if this is our john fletcher, his marriage would have been about the same time as beaumont's, and he may have later taken up his residence in the parish of st. bartholomew the great, on the north side of the river, not far from southwark. if fletcher was married in , we may be very sure that his wife was not a person of distinction. his verses _upon an honest man's fortune_, written the next year, give us the impression either that he is not married and not likely to be, or that he has married one of low estate and breeding, has concluded that the matrimonial game is not worth the candle, and rather defiantly has turned to a better mistress than mortal, who can compensate him for that which through love he has not attained, "were i in love," he declares,-- were i in love, and could that bright star bring increase to wealth, honour, and everything: were she as perfect good, as we can aim, the first was so, and yet she lost the game. my mistriss then be knowledge and fair truth; so i enjoy all beauty and all youth. we may be sure that when fletcher wrote this poem he had known poverty, sickness, and affliction, but not a consolation in wedded happiness: love's but an exhalation to best eyes; the matter spent, and then the fool's fire dies. since many of collier's "earnests" turn out to be "jests," why not the other way round? that is my apology for according this "jest" a moment's whimsical consideration. * * * * * such is an outline in broad sweep of the activities and common relations of our castor and pollux, and a preliminary sketch of the personality of each. with regard to the latter, who is our main concern, the vital record is yet more definitely to be discovered in the dramatic output distinctively his during the years of literary partnership; and to the consideration of his share in the joint-plays we may now turn. footnotes: [ ] see his _ode to sir william skipwith_. [ ] "thou wert not meant, sure, for a woman, thou art so innocent," philosophizes the sullen shepherd concerning amoret;--and not only wanton nymphs but modest swains are of the same philosophy. [ ] ward, _e. dr. lit._, ii, ,--quoting, in the footnote, from _the nice valour_, v, . [ ] dyce, _b. and f._, i, lxxiii. part two the collaboration of beaumont and fletcher chapter xvi statement of the problem; critical apparatus much of the confusion which existed in the minds of readers and critics during the period following the restoration concerning the respective productivity of beaumont and fletcher is due to accident. the quartos (generally unauthorized) of individual plays in circulation were, as often as not, wrong in their ascriptions of authorship to one, or the other, or both of the dramatists; and the folio of , which, long after both were dead, first presented what purported to be their collected works, lacked title-pages to the individual plays, and, save in one instance, prefixed no name of author to any play. the exception is _the maske of the gentlemen of grayes-inne and the inner temple_ "written by francis beaumont, gentleman," which had been performed, feb. , - , and had appeared in quarto without date (but probably ) as "by francis beaumont, gent." in seven instances, fletcher is indicated in the folio by prologue or epilogue as author, or author revised, and in general correctly; but otherwise the thirty-four plays included (not counting the _maske_) are introduced to the public merely by a general title-page as "written by francis beaumont and john fletcher, gentlemen. never printed before, and now published by the authours originall copies." that the public should have been deceived into accepting most of them as the joint-product of the authors is not surprising. though it is not the purpose of this discussion to consider plays in which beaumont was not concerned, it may be said incidentally that of eleven of these productions fletcher was sole author; massinger of perhaps one, and with fletcher of eight, and with fletcher and others of five more; that in several plays four or five other authors had a hand, and that in at least five fletcher had no share.[ ] [illustration: john fletcher from the painting in the national portrait gallery painter unknown but contemporary] sir aston cockayne was, therefore, fully justified, when, some time between and , he thus upbraided the publishers of the folio: in the large book of playes you late did print in beaumont's and in fletcher's name, why in't did you not justice? give to each his due? for beaumont of those many writ in few, and massinger in other few; the main being sole issues of sweet fletcher's brain. but how came i (you ask) so much to know? fletcher's chief bosome-friend informed me so. i' the next impression therefore justice do, and print their old ones in one volume too; for beaumont's works and fletcher's should come forth, with all the right belonging to their worth. in still another poem, printed in , but written not long after , and addressed to his cousin, charles cotton, sir aston returns to the charge: i wonder, cousin, that you would permit so great an injury to fletcher's wit, your friend and old companion, that his fame should be divided to another's name. if beaumont had writ those plays, it had been against his merits a detracting sin, had they been attributed also to fletcher. they were two wits and friends, and who robs from the one to glorify the other, of these great memories is a partial lover. had beaumont liv'd when this edition came forth, and beheld his ever living name before plays that he never writ, how he had frown'd and blush'd at such impiety! his own renown no such addition needs to have a fame sprung from another's deedes: and my good friend old philip massinger with fletcher writ in some that we see there. but you may blame the printers: yet you might perhaps have won them to do fletcher right, would you have took the pains; for what a foul and unexcusable fault it is (that whole volume of plays being almost every one after the death of beaumont writ) that none would certifie them so much! i wish as free y' had told the printers this, as you did me. . . . . . . ... while they liv'd and writ together, we had plays exceeded what we hop'd to see. but they writ few; for youthful beaumont soon by death eclipsèd was at his high noon. the statements especially to be noted in these poems are, first, that fletcher is present in most of the work published in the earliest folio, that of , beaumont in but a few plays, massinger in other few. this information cockayne, who was but eight years of age when beaumont died, and seventeen at fletcher's death, had from fletcher's chief bosom-friend, and it was probably corroborated by massinger himself, with whom cockayne and his family (as we know from other evidence) had long been acquainted. second, that _almost every play_ in the folio was written after beaumont's death ( ). this information, also, cockayne had from his own cousin who was a friend and old companion of fletcher. this cousin, the chief bosom-friend, as i have shown elsewhere, was charles cotton, the elder, who died in , not the younger charles cotton (the translator of montaigne),--for he was not born till five years after fletcher died. and, third, that not only is the title of the folio "comedies and tragedies written by francis beaumont and john fletcher, gentlemen" a misnomer, but that the bulk of their joint-plays, "the old ones" (not here included) calls for a volume to itself. a very just verdict, indeed,--this of cockayne,--for (if i may again anticipate conclusions later to be reached) the only indubitable contributions from beaumont's hand to this folio are his _maske of the gentleman of grayes inne_ and a portion of _the coxcombe_. the confusion concerning authorship was redoubled by the second folio, which appeared as "_fifty comedies and tragedies_. written by francis beaumont and john fletcher, gentlemen. published by the authors original copies (_etc._)" in . there are fifty-three plays in this volume; the thirty-five of the first folio, and eighteen previously printed but not before gathered together. beside those in which beaumont had, or could have had, a hand, the eighteen include five of fletcher's authorship, five in which he collaborated with others than beaumont; and one, _the coronation_, principally, if not entirely, by shirley.[ ] as in the folio, the only indication of respective authorship is to be found in occasional dedications, prefaces, prologues and epilogues. but, while in some half-dozen instances these name fletcher correctly as author, and, in two or three, by implication correctly designate him or beaumont, in other cases the indication is wrong or misleading. where "our poets" are vaguely mentioned, or no hint whatever is given, the uncritical reader is led to ascribe the play to the joint composition of beaumont and fletcher. the lists of actors prefixed to several of the dramas afford valuable information concerning date and, sometimes, authorship to the student of stage-history; but the credulous would carry away the impression that beaumont and fletcher had collaborated equally in about forty of the fifty-three plays contained in the folio of . the uncertainty regarding the respective shares of the two authors in the production of this large number of dramas and, consequently, regarding the quality of the genius of each, commenced even during the life of fletcher who survived his friend by nine years, and it has continued in some fashion down to the present time. writing an elegy "on master beaumont, presently after his death,"[ ] that is to say, in - , john earle, a precocious youth of sixteen, at christ church, oxford, is so occupied with lament and praise for "the poet so quickly taken off" that he not only ascribes to him the whole of _philaster_ and _the maides tragedy_ (in both of which it was always known that fletcher had a share) but omits mention of fletcher altogether. so far, however, as the estimate of the peculiar genius of beaumont goes, the judgment of young earle has rarely been surpassed. oh, when i read those excellent things of thine, such strength, such sweetnesse, coucht in every line, such life of fancy, such high choise of braine,-- nought of the vulgar mint or borrow'd straine, such passion, such expressions meet my eye, such wit untainted with obscenity, and these so unaffectedly exprest, but all in a pure flowing language drest, so new, so fresh, so nothing trod upon, and all so borne within thyself, thine owne, i grieve not now that old menanders veine is ruin'd, to survive in thee againe. the succeeding exaltation of his idol above plautus and aristophanes, nay even chaucer, is of a generous extravagance, but the lad lays his finger on the real beaumont when he calls attention to "those excellent things;" and to the histrionic quality, the high seriousness, the "humours" and the perennial vitality of beaumont's contribution to dramatic poetry. a year or so later, and still during fletcher's lifetime, we find drummond of hawthornden confusing in his turn the facts of authorship; for he "reports jonson as saying that 'flesher and beaumont, ten years since, hath written _the faithfull shipheardesse_, a tragicomedie well done,'--whereas both jonson and beaumont had already addressed lines to fletcher in commendation of his pastoral."[ ] by , as miss hatcher has shown, the confusion had crystallized itself into three distinct opinions, equally false, concerning the respective contribution of the authors to the plays loosely accredited to their partnership. these opinions are represented in the commendatory verses prefixed to the first folio. one was that "they were equal geniuses fused into one by the force of perfect congeniality and not to be distinguished from each other in their work,"--thus put into epigram by sir george lisle: for still your fancies are so wov'n and knit, 't was francis fletcher or john beaumont writ; and repeated by sir john pettus: how angels (cloyster'd in our humane cells) maintaine their parley, beaumont-fletcher tels: whose strange, unimitable intercourse transcends all rules. a second, the dominant view in , was that "the plays were to be accredited to fletcher alone, since beaumont was not to be taken into serious account in explaining their production." this opinion is expressed by waller, who, referring not only to the plays of that folio (in only two of which beaumont appears) but to others like _the maides tragedy_ and _the scornful ladie_ in which, undoubtedly, beaumont coöperated, says: fletcher, to thee wee do not only owe all these good playes, but those of others, too; ... no worthies form'd by any muse but thine, could purchase robes to make themselves so fine; and by hills, who writes,--"upon the ever-to-be-admired mr. john fletcher and his playes,"-- "fletcher, the king of poets! such was he, that earn'd all tribute, claim'd all soveraignty." the third view was--still to follow miss hatcher--that "fletcher was the genius and creator in the work, and beaumont merely the judicial and regulative force." cartwright in his two poems of , as i have already pointed out, emphasizes this view: though when all fletcher writ, and the entire man was indulged unto that sacred fire, his thoughts and his thoughts dresse appeared both such that 't was his happy fault to do too much; who therefore wisely did submit each birth to knowing beaumont ere it did come forth; working againe, until he said 't was fit and made him the sobriety of his wit; though thus he call'd his judge into his fame, and for that aid allow'd him halfe the name, 't is knowne that sometimes he did stand alone, that both the spunge and pencill were his owne; that himselfe judged himselfe, could singly do, and was at last beaumont and fletcher too. a similar view is implied by dryden, when, in his _essay of dramatick poesie_, , he attributes the regularity of their joint-plots to beaumont's influence; and reports that even "ben jonson while he lived submitted all his writings to his censure, and 'tis thought used his judgment in correcting, if not contriving, all his plots." this tradition of fletcher as creator and beaumont as critic continued for generations, only occasionally disturbed,[ ] in spite of the testimony of cockayne to fletcher's sole authorship of most of the plays in the first folio, to the coöperation of massinger with fletcher in some, and to the fact that there were enough plays not here included, written conjointly by beaumont and fletcher, to warrant the publication of a separate volume, properly ascribed to both. to the mistaken attributions of authorship by dryden, rymer, and others, i make reference in my forthcoming essay on _the fellows and followers of shakespeare_, part two.[ ] the succeeding history of opinion through langbaine, collier, theobald, sympson and seward, chalmers, brydges, _the biographia dramatica_, cibber, malone, darley, dyce, and the purely literary critics from lamb to swinburne, has been admirably outlined by miss hatcher in the first chapter of her dissertation on the _dramatic method of john fletcher_. with fleay, in , began the scientific analysis of the problem, based upon metrical tests as derived from the investigation of the individual verse of fletcher, massinger, and beaumont. his method has been elaborated, corrected, and supplemented by additional rhetorical and literary tests, on the part of various critics, some of whom are mentioned below.[ ] the more detailed studies in metre and style are by r. boyle, g. c. macaulay, and e. h. oliphant; and the best brief comparative view of their conclusions as regards beaumont's contribution is to be found in r. m. alden's edition of _the knight of the burning pestle_ and _a king and no king_. to the chronology of the plays serviceable introductions are afforded by macaulay in the list appended to his chapter in the sixth volume of the _cambridge history of english literature_, and by a. h. thorndike in his _influence of beaumont and fletcher upon shakespeare_. concerning the authorship of the successive scenes in a few of the plays undoubtedly written in partnership by beaumont and fletcher a consensus of opinion has practically been reached. concerning others, especially those in which a third or fourth hand may be traced, the difference of opinion is still bewildering. this divergence is due, perhaps, to the proneness of the critic to emphasize one or more tests out of relation to the rest, or to forget that though individual scenes were undertaken now by one, now by the other of the colleagues, the play as a whole would be usually planned by both, but any individual scene or passage revised by either. the tests of external evidence have of course been applied by all critics, but as to events and dates there is still variety of opinion. of the internal criteria, those based upon the peculiarities of each partner in respect of versification have been so carefully studied and applied that to repeat the operation seems like threshing very ancient straw; but to accept the winnowings of others, however careful, is unsatisfactory. tests of rhetorical habit and tectonic preference have also been, in general, attempted; but not, i think, exhaustively. and, though much has been established, and availed of, in analysis, there remains yet something to desire in the application of the more subtle differentiæ yielded by such preliminary methods of investigation,--what these differentiæ teach us concerning the temperamental idiosyncrasies of each of the partners in scope and method of observation, in poetic imagery, in moral and emotional insight and elevation, intellectual outlook, philosophical and religious conviction. footnotes: [ ] see g. c. macaulay (_camb. hist. eng. lit._, vi), and other authorities as in footnote toward end of this chapter. [ ] see authorities as in footnote, below. [ ] included "thirty years" after, among the commendatory poems in the folio of ; but published earlier with _beaumont's poems_, . [ ] miss o. l. hatcher, _john fletcher_, chicago, . [ ] as by langbaine, _an account of the english dramatick poets_ ( ), who acknowledges cockayne as the only conclusive authority upon the subject. [ ] _r. e. c._, vol. iii. [ ] f. g. fleay, in _new shakespeare society transactions_, ; _shakespeare manual_, ; _englische studien_, ix ( ); _chronicle of the english drama_, . r. boyle, in _engl. stud._, v, vii, viii, ix, x, xvii, xviii, xxvi, xxxi ( - ), and in _n. shaksp. soc. trans._, . g. c. macaulay, _francis beaumont_, ; and in _cambridge history of english literature_, vi ( ). a. h. bullen, article _john fletcher_ in _dictionary of national biography_, xix ( ). e. h. oliphant, in _engl. stud._, xiv, xv, xvi ( - ). a. h. thorndike, _the influence of beaumont and fletcher on shakespeare_, ; beaumont and fletcher's _maid's tragedy_, etc. (belles lettres series), . r. m. alden, beaumont's _knight of the burning pestle_, etc. (belles lettres series), . the introductions in the _variorum edition_, , . for a general treatment of the subject see, also, a. w. ward's _history of english dramatic literature_, ii, - ( ), ii, - ( ), and f. e. schelling's _elizabethan drama_, ii, - , and for bibliography, . for general bibliography, thorndike and alden in belles lettres series, as above; and _camb. hist. eng. lit._, vi, - . chapter xvii the delimitation of the field the plays contained in the first folio of beaumont and fletcher's _comedies and tragedies_, , are _the mad lover_, _the spanish curate_, _the little french lawyer_, _the custome of the countrey_, _the noble gentleman_, _the captaine_, _the beggers bush_, _the coxcombe_, _the false one_, _the chances_, _the loyall subject_, _the lawes of candy_, _the lovers progresse_, _the island princesse_, _the humorous lieutenant_, _the nice valour_, _the maide in the mill_, _the prophetesse_, _the tragedy of bonduca_, _the sea voyage_, _the double marriage_, _the pilgrim_, _the knight of malta_, _the womans prize_ or _the tamer tamed_, _loves cure_, _the honest mans fortune_, _the queene of corinth_, _women pleas'd_, _a wife for a moneth_, _wit at severall weapons_, _the tragedy of valentinian_, _the faire maide of the inne_, _loves pilgrimage_, _the maske of the gentlemen of grayes inne, and the inner temple, at the marriage of the prince and princesse palatine of rhene_ written by francis beaumont, gentleman, _foure playes_ (or _moralle representations_) _in one_. of these thirty-five, which purport to be printed from "the authours originall copies," only one, as i have already said, _the maske_, had been published before. the second folio, entitled _fifty comedies and tragedies_, , contains, beside those above mentioned, eighteen others, one of which, _the wild-goose chase_, had been published separately and in folio, . the remaining seventeen said to be "published from the authors' original copies," are printed from the quartos. they are _the maides tragedy_, _philaster_, _a king and no king_, _the scornful ladie_, _the elder brother_, _wit without money_, _the faithfull shepheardesse_, _rule a wife and have a wife_, _monsieur thomas_, _rollo_, _the knight of the burning pestle_, _the night-walker_, _the coronation_, _cupids revenge_, _the two noble kinsmen_, _thierry and theodoret_, and _the woman-hater_. in addition to these fifty-three plays, one, _the faithful friends_, entered on the stationers' registers in , as by beaumont and fletcher, was held in manuscript until , when it was purchased by weber from "mr. john smith of furnival's inn into whose possession it came from mr. theobald, nephew to the editor of shakespeare," and published. according to the broadest possible sweep of modern opinion, the presence of beaumont cannot by any _tour de force_ be conjectured in more than twenty-three of the fifty-four productions listed above. the twenty-three are (exclusive of _the maske_) _the woman-hater_, _the knight of the burning pestle_, _cupids revenge_, _the scornful ladie_, _the maides tragedy_, _a king and no king_, _philaster_, _foure playes in one_, _loves cure_, _the coxcombe_, _the captaine_, _thierry and theodoret_, _the faithful friends_, _wit at severall weapons_, _beggers bush_, _loves pilgrimage_, _the knight of malta_, _the lawes of candy_, _the nice valour_, _the noble gentleman_, _the faire maide of the inne_, _bonduca_, and _the honest mans fortune_. with regard to the last twelve of these plays beginning with _thierry and theodoret_ there is no convincing proof that more than the first four were written before february , when after preparing the _maske_ for the lady elizabeth's marriage to the elector palatine, beaumont seems (except for his share of _the scornful ladie_ which i date about ) to have withdrawn from dramatic activity,--perhaps because of his own marriage about that time and withdrawal to the country, or because of failing health; and there is no generally accepted historical or textual evidence that beaumont had any hand even in these four. of the eight remaining at the end of the list, four may be dated before beaumont's death in : _the honest mans fortune_, which is said on manuscript evidence to have been played in the year , but probably later than august ;[ ] _bonduca_, which oliphant asserts is an alteration by fletcher of an old drama of beaumont's, but which other authorities assign to fletcher alone; and, on slighter evidence, _loves pilgrimage_, and _the nice valour_. the balance of proof with regard to the other four, _the knight of malta_, _the lawes of candy_, _the noble gentleman_, and _the faire maide of the inne_, is altogether in favour of their composition after beaumont's death. in each of these twelve plays, however, beginning with _thierry_ and ending with _the honest mans fortune_, an occasional expert thinks that he finds a speech or a scene in beaumont's style, and concludes that the play in its present form is a revision of some early effort in which that dramatist had a hand. but where one critic surmises beaumont, another detects beaumont's imitators; and where one conjectures fletcher and beaumont conjoined, half a dozen assert fletcher, assisted, or revised by anywhere from one to four contemporaries,--field or daborne or massinger, middleton or rowley, or first and second unknown. i have examined these plays and the evidence, as carefully as i have those which have more claim to consideration among the beaumont possibilities, and have applied to them all the tests which i shall presently describe; and have come to the conclusion that beaumont had nothing to do with any of the twelve. there remain, then, of the twenty-three plays enumerated above as beaumont-fletcher possibilities, only eleven of which i can, on the basis of external or internal evidence, or both, safely say that they were composed before beaumont ceased writing for the stage, and that he had, or may have had, a hand in writing some of them. these are, in the order of their first appearance in print: _the woman-hater_, published without name of author in ; _the knight of the burning pestle_, also anonymous, published in ; _cupids revenge_, published as fletcher's in ; _the scornful ladie_, published in , as beaumont and fletcher's, just after the death of the former; _the maides tragedy_, published, without names of authors, in ; _a king and no king_, published as beaumont and fletcher's in ; _philaster_, published as beaumont and fletcher's in ; and _foure playes in one_, _loves cure_, _the coxcombe_, and _the captaine_, first published in the folio, without ascription of authorship on the title-page, but as of the "comedies and tragedies written by beaumont and fletcher," in general. in the case of _loves cure_ the epilogue mentions "our author"; the prologue, spoken "at the reviving of this play," attributes it to beaumont and fletcher. as for _the coxcombe_, the prologue for a revival speaks of "the makers that confest it for their own." it is worthy of notice that three only of these eleven possible "beaumont-fletcher" plays were printed during beaumont's lifetime,--_the woman-hater_, _the knight of the burning pestle_ and _cupids revenge_, and that on none of them does beaumont's name appear as author. the last indeed was ascribed, wrongly, as i shall later show, to fletcher alone. it should also be noted that four other of the plays, beginning with _the scornful ladie_ and ending with _philaster_, were published before the death of fletcher in ; and that while three of them have title-page ascriptions to both authors, one, _the maides tragedy_, is anonymous. to these eleven plays as a residuum i have given the preference in the application of tests deemed most likely to reveal the relative contribution and genius of the authors in partnership. beside the seven published as stated above during fletcher's life, two others appeared which i do not include in this residuum,--_the faithfull shepheardesse_ and _thierry and theodoret_. the former, printed between december , and july , , is of fletcher's sole authorship, and will be employed as one of the clues to his early characteristics. the latter, attributed by some critics to both authors was published without ascription of authorship in a quarto of . it does not appear in the folio of , but was printed in second quarto as "by john fletcher" in , and again as "by f. beaumont and j. fletcher" in ; and was finally gathered up with the _comedies and tragedies_ which compose the folio of . oliphant and thorndike are of opinion that the play is a revision by massinger of an original by beaumont and fletcher, but i cannot discover in the text evidence sufficient to warrant its inclusion in the list of plays worthy to be investigated as the possible product of the partnership. the eleven beaumont-fletcher plays to which the criteria of internal evidence may be applied with some assurance of success, comprise in their number, fortunately for us, three of which we are informed by external evidence,--the contemporary testimony of john earle, dated - ,--that beaumont was concerned in their composition. these three, _philaster_, _the maides tragedy_, and _a king and no king_, are a positive residuum to which as a model of the joint-work of our authors we may first, in the effort to discriminate their respective functions when working in partnership, apply the tests of style derived from a study of the plays and poems which each wrote alone. with this delimitation of the field of inquiry, we are now ready for the consideration of the criteria by which the presence of either author may be detected. the criteria are primarily of versification; then, successively and cumulatively, of diction and mental habit. ultimately, and by induction, they are of dramatic technique and creative genius. footnotes: [ ] see fleay, _chron. eng. dram._, i, ; and w. w. greg, _henslowe papers_, . chapter xviii the versification of fletcher and of beaumont i. in plays individually composed. the studies of the most experienced critics into the peculiarities of fletcher's blank verse as displayed in productions of the popular dramatic kind, indubitably written by him alone,[ ] such as _monsieur thomas_ of the earlier period, ending , _the chances_, _the loyall subject_, and _the humorous lieutenant_ of the middle period, ending , and _rule a wife and have a wife_ of his latest period, indicate that he indulges in an excessive use of double endings, sometimes as many as seventy in every hundred lines, even in triple and quadruple endings; in an abundance of trisyllabic feet; and in a peculiar retention of the old end-stopped line, or final pause,--occasionally in as many as ninety out of a hundred lines. attention has been directed also to the emphasis which he deliberately places upon the extra syllable of the blank verse, making it a substantive rather than a negligible factor: as in the "brains" and "too" of the following: or wander after that they know not where to find? or, if found how to enjoy? are men's brains made nowadays of malt, that their affections are never sober, but, like drunken people founder at every new fame? i do believe, too, that men in love are ever drunk, as drunken men are ever loving,--[ ] and to his fondness for appending words such as "first," "then," "there," "still," "sir," and even "lady" and "gentlemen" to lines which already possess their five feet. it has also been remarked that he makes but infrequent employment of rhyme. of this metrical style examples will be found on pages in chapter xix, section , below; or on any page of fletcher's _rule a wife and have a wife_, as for instance the following from act iii, scene , - : _altea._ my life|, an in|nocent|! _marg._ that's it | i aim | at, that's it | i hope | too; ¦ then ¦ i am sure | i rule | him; for in|nocents | are like | obe|dient chil|dren brought up | under a hard | [+!] moth|er-in-law|, a cru|el, who be|ing not us'd | to break|fasts and | colla|tions, [+!] when | they have coarse | bread of|fer'd 'em | are thank|full, and take | it for | a fa|vour too|. are the rooms | made read|y to en|tertain | my friends|? i long | to dance now, [+!] and | to be wan|ton. ¦ let | me have | a song. is the great | couch up | the duke | of medi|na sent? [illustration: john earle, bishop of worcester and salisbury from the portrait in the national portrait gallery] here the first half of v. is also the last of the preceding line; seven out of ten verses have double endings; one has a triple ending. one, v. , has a quadruple ending; unless we rearrange by adding "made ready" to v. , so as to scan: and take 't | for a fa|vour too|. are the rooms | made read|y to en|tertain | my friends|? i long | to dance | now.-- trisyllabic feet occur in nine; final pauses in nine; stress-syllable openings and compensating anapæsts in two; the feminine cæsura (phrasal pause within the foot) in two. the pause in v. , after two strong monosyllables of which the first is stressed, produces a jolt, typically fletcherian. now, these peculiarities of versification are not a habit acquired by fletcher after beaumont ceased to write with him. they are rife not only in the plays of his middle and later periods, but in those of the earlier period while beaumont was still at his side. as for instance in _monsieur thomas_, entirely fletcher's of , or at the latest . the reader may be interested to verify for himself by scanning the following passage from act iv, at which i open at random: launcelot is speaking: but to the silent streets we turn'd our furies: a sleeping watchman here we stole the shooes from, there made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows: the streets are durty, takes a queen-hithe cold, hard cheese, and that choaks him o' munday next: windows and signs we sent to erebus; a crew of bawling curs we entertain'd last, when having let the pigs loose in out parishes, o, the brave cry we made as high as algate! down comes a constable, and the sow his sister most traiterously tramples upon authority: there a whole stand of rug gowns rowted mainly, and the king's peace put to flight, a purblind pig here runs me his head into the admirable lanthorn,-- out goes the light and all turns to confusion. no one, once acquainted with this style of blank verse, with its end-stopped lines, double endings, stress-syllable openings, feminine cæsuræ, trisyllabic feet, jolts, and heavy extra syllables, can ever turn it to confusion with the verse of any poet before browning--certainly not with that of beaumont. our materials for a study of beaumont's individual characteristics in the composition of dramatic blank verse appear at the first sight to be very scanty; for the only example of which we have positive external evidence that it was written by beaumont alone, is _the maske of the gentlemen of grayes inne and the inner temple_, and unfortunately some critics have excluded it from consideration because of its exceptionally formal and spectacular character and slight dramatic purpose. written, however, at the beginning of , when the author's metrical manner was a definitely confirmed habit, it affords, in my opinion, the best as well as the most natural approach to the investigation of beaumont's versification. the following lines may be regarded as typical: is great jove jealous that i am imploy'd on her love-errands? ¦ she did never yet claspe weak mortality in her white arms, as he hath often done: i only come to celebrate the long-wish'd nuptials [+!] here | in olym|pia, ¦ which | are now | perform'd. betwixt two goodly rivers, ¦ that have mixt their gentle, rising waves, and are to grow [+!] in | to a thou|sand streams | [+!] great | as themselves. in these nine verses there are no fletcherian jolts, no double endings. in only two lines trisyllabic feet occur; in only two, final pauses. there are stress-syllable openings in two, with the compensating anapæsts; feminine cæsuræ, in three (dotted); and a stress-syllable opening for the verse-section after the cæsura occurs in but one, whereas there are at least three such in the passage from _monsieur thomas_, quoted above. nothing could be more pronounced than the difference between the metrical style of fletcher's _monsieur thomas_ and _rule a wife_ and that of beaumont's _maske_, as illustrated here. fletcher abounds in double endings, trisyllabic feet, and end-stopped lines, and such conversational or lyrical cadences; beaumont uses them much more sparingly. but while the difference between the genuinely dramatic blank verse of fletcher and that of beaumont is sometimes as pronounced as this, it would be unscientific to base the criterion upon comparison of a mature, conversationally dramatic, composition of the former with a stiffly rhetorical declamatory composition of the latter. for a more suitable comparison we must set beaumont's _maske_ side by side with something of fletcher's written in similar formal and declamatory style,--_the faithfull shepheardesse_, for instance, a youthful production in the pastoral spirit and form. of this a small part, but sufficient for our purpose, is composed in blank verse; and i have cited in the next chapter with another end in view, the opening soliloquy,--to which the reader may turn. but as exemplifying certain of fletcher's metrical peculiarities, in a style of verse suitable to be compared with beaumont's in _the maske_, the following lines from act i, , are perhaps even more distinctive. "what greatness," says the shepherdesse,-- what greatness, ¦ or what private hidden power, [+!] is | there in me, | to draw submission from this rude man and beast? sure i am mortal, the daughter of a shepherd; ¦ he was mortal, and she that bore me mortal: ¦ prick my hand, and it will bleed; a feaver shakes me, and the self-same wind that makes the young lambs shrink makes me | a-cold; | my fear says i am mortal. [+!] yet have i heard | (my mother told it me, and now i do believe it), ¦ if i keep my virgin flower uncropt, pure, chaste, and fair, no goblin, ¦ wood-god, fairy, elf, or fiend, [+!] sa|tyr, or oth|er power that haunts the groves, shall hurt my body, ¦ or by vain illusion [+!] draw | me to wan|der ¦ after idle fires. we have here, in fifteen lines, four double endings, nine final pauses (end-stopped verses), four stress-syllable openings with compensating anapæsts, and seven feminine cæsuræ. in every way this sample even of fletcher's more formal style displays, in its salient characteristics, a much closer resemblance in kind to the sample of his later blank verse quoted from _rule a wife_, above, than to that quoted from beaumont's _maske_. when we pass from samples to larger sections, and compare percentages in the one hundred and thirty-one blank verses of _the maske_ and the first one hundred and sixty-three of _the shepheardesse_, we find that in respect of final pauses there is no great difference. there are, in the former, more than is usual with beaumont--sixty per cent; in the latter, less than is usual with fletcher--fifty per cent. but in other respects beaumont's _maske_ reveals peculiarities of verse altogether different from those of fletcher, even when he is writing in the declamatory pastoral vein. in the one hundred and thirty-one lines of the _maske_ we find but one double ending; whereas in the first one hundred and sixty-three blank verses of _the shepheardesse_ we count as many as fourteen. in these productions the proportion of feminine cæsuræ is practically uniform--about forty per cent. but when we come to examine the more subtle movement of the rhythm, we find that in _the maske_ not more than ten per cent of the lines open with the stress-syllable, while in the blank verse of the _shepheardesse_ fully thirty-five out of every hundred lines have that opening and, consequently, impart the lyrical cadence which pervades much of fletcher's metrical composition. in the matter of anapæstic substitutions, and of stress-syllable openings for the verse-section after the cæsura, beaumont is similarly inelastic; while the fletcher of the _shepheardesse_ displays a marvellous freedom. it follows that in the _maske_ we encounter but rarely the rhetorical pause, within the verse, compensating for an absent thesis or arsis; while in the pastoral verse of fletcher we find frequent instances of this delicate dramatic as well as metrical device, and an occasional jolting cæsura. we are not limited, however, to the material afforded by the _maske_ in our attempt to discover beaumont's metrical characteristics when writing alone. _the woman-hater_, included among the plays of beaumont and fletcher in the folio of , and ascribed to both on the title-page of a quarto of , is assigned by the prologue of the first quarto, , to a single author--"he that made this play." and, though there is no attribution of authorship on the title-page of the quarto, we know from the application of verse-tests and tests of diction that, in all but three scenes which have evidently been revised,[ ] the author was certainly not fletcher. an examination of the inner structure of the verse of _the woman-hater_, reveals, except in those scenes, precisely the peculiarities that distinguish beaumont's _maske_: the same infrequency of stress-syllable openings, and of anapæstic substitutions and of suppressed syllables in metrical scheme. in respect of the more evident device of the run-on line _the woman-hater_ reaches a percentage twice as high as that employed in fletcher's unassisted popular dramas; and in respect of the double ending it has a percentage only one-quarter as high. we notice also in this play a much more frequent employment of rhyme than in any of fletcher's stage plays, and a much larger proportion of prose both for dialogue and soliloquy. we should have further basis for conclusion concerning beaumont's metrical style in independent composition, if we could accept the general assumption that he was the author of the _induction_ to the _foure playes in one_, and of the first two plays, _the triumph of honour_ and _the triumph of love_. but for reasons, later to be stated, i agree with oliphant that the _induction_ and _honour_ are not by beaumont; and i hold that he can not be traced with certainty even in the two or three scenes of _love_ that seem to be marked by some of his characteristics. the hand of a third writer, field, is manifest in the non-fletcherian plays of the series. but though we can not draw for our purpose upon other plays as his unassisted work, we may derive help from the consideration of two at least of beaumont's poems,--poems that have something of a dramatic flavour. though they are in rhyming couplets, they display many of the characteristics of the author's blank verse. in the _letter to ben jonson_, which is conversational, i count of run-on lines, thirty-eight in eighty, almost fifty per cent, as compared with fletcher's sometimes ten or twenty per cent, in spite of the superior elasticity of blank verse; and of stress-syllable openings in the same letter twenty-four per cent as compared with the thirty-five per cent of fletcher's more highly cadenced rhythm in the _shepheardesse_. in beaumont's _elegy on the countess of rutland_, the last forty-four lines afford a fine example of dramatic fervour--the indictment of the physicians. here the run-on lines again abound, almost fifty per cent; while the stress-syllable openings are but sixteen per cent--much lower than one may find in many rhymed portions of the _shepheardesse_. with regard to all other tests except that of double ending (which does not apply in this kind of heroic couplet), we find that these poems of beaumont are of a metrical style distinguished by the same characteristics as his blank verse.[ ] . in certain joint-plays. if we turn now to a second class of material available,--the three plays indubitably produced in partnership,--and eliminate the portions written in the metrical style of fletcher, as already ascertained, we may safely attribute the remainder to the junior member of the firm; and so arrive at a final determination of his manner in verse composition. the three plays, as i have said before, are _philaster_, _the maides tragedy_ and _a king and no king_. a passage, which in the opinion of nearly all critics[ ] is by all tests distinctively fletcherian, may be cited from the first of these as an example of that which we eliminate when we look for beaumont. it is from the beginning of act v, , where the captain enters: "philaster, brave philaster!" let philas|ter be deeper in request, my ding [a] dongs, my paires of deere indentures, ¦ kings of clubs, [+!] than | your cold wa|ter-cham|blets ¦ or | your paint|ings [+!] spit|ted with cop|per, ¦ let | not your has|ty silkes, [+!] or | your branch'd cloth | of bod|kin, ¦ or | your ti|shues,-- [+!] deare|ly belov'd | of spi|cèd cake | and cus|tards,-- your rob|in-hoods, |[+!] scar|lets and johns, |[+!] tye | your affec|tions in darknesse to your shops. no, dainty duc|kers, [+!] up | with your three|-piled spi|rits, ¦ your | wrought va|lors. and let | your un|cut col|lers ¦ make | the king feele the measure of your mightinesse, philas|ter![ ] note the double endings, the end-stopped lines, the stress-syllable openings, the anapæsts, the feminine cæsuræ (dotted), the two omissions of the light syllable after the cæsural pause and the following accent at the beginning of the verse section, and the six feet of line . of the non-fletcherian part of _philaster_, a typical example is the following from act i, scene , where philaster replies to arethusa's request that he look away from her: i can indure it: turne away my face? i never yet saw enemy that lookt so dreadfully but that i thought my selfe as great a basiliske as he; or spake so horrible but that i thought my tongue bore thunder underneath, as much as his, nor beast that i could turne from: shall i then beginne to feare sweete sounds? a ladies voyce, whom i doe love? say, you would have my life; why, i will give it you; for it is of me a thing so loath'd, and unto you that aske of so poore use, that i shall make no price. if you intreate, i will unmov'dly heare. or the famous description of bellario, beginning: i have a boy, sent by the gods, i hope to this intent, not yet seen in the court-- from the same scene. or the king's soliloquy in act ii, scene , containing the lines: you gods, i see that who unrighteously holds wealth or state from others shall be curst in that which meaner men are blest withall: ages to come shall know no male of him left to inherit, and his name shall be blotted from earth. the reader will at once be impressed with the regularity of the masculine ending. beaumont does not, of course, eschew the double ending; but, as boyle has computed, the percentage in this play is but fifteen in the non-fletcherian passages, whereas the percentage in fletcher's contribution is thirty-five. the prevalence of run-on lines is also noteworthy; and the infrequency of the stress-syllable openings, anapæsts, and feminine cæsuræ by which fletcher achieves now conversational abruptness, now lyrical lilt. in _the maides tragedy_, such soliloquies as that of aspatia in act v, scene , with its mixture of blank verse and rhyme: this is my fatal hour; heaven may forgive my rash attempt, that causelessly hath laid griefs on me that will never let me rest, and put a woman's heart into my brest. it is more honour for you that i die; for she that can endure the misery that i have on me, and be patient too, may live, and laugh at all that you can do-- are marked by characteristics utterly unlike those of fletcher's dramatic verse. also unlike fletcher are the scenes which abound in lines of weak and light ending, and lines where the lighter syllables of every word must be counted to make full measure. fletcher did not write: alas, amintor, thinkst thou i forbear to sleep with thee because i have put on a maidens strictness; or as mine own conscience too sensible;-- i must live scorned, or be a murderer;-- that trust out all our reputation. nor did fletcher write, with any frequency, improper run-on lines, such as iii, , (one of his collaborator's scenes): speak yet again, before mine anger grow up beyond throwing down. in this play the percentage of run-on lines in fletcher's scenes is about nineteen; in the scenes not written by him, almost twenty-seven. fletcher's double endings are over forty per cent; his collaborator's barely ten. in _a king and no king_ similar beaumontesque characteristics distinguish the major portion of the play from the few scenes generally acknowledged to be written by fletcher. in fletcher's scenes[ ] one notes the high proportion of stress-syllable openings, and, consequently, of anapæstic substitutions, the subtle omission occasionally of the arsis, and not infrequently of the thesis (or light syllable) after the pause, and the use of the accented syllable at the beginning of the verse-section. while sometimes these characteristics appear in the other parts of the play, their relative infrequency is a distinctive feature of the non-fletcherian rhythm. a comparison of the verse of fletcher's act iv, scene , with that of his collaborator in act i, scene , well illustrates this difference. the recurrence of the feminine cæsura measures fairly the relative elasticity of the versifiers. it regulates two-thirds of fletcher's lines; but of his collaborator's not quite one half. fletcher, for instance, wrote the speech of tigranes, beginning the second scene of act iv: [+!] fool | that i am, | i have | undone | myself, [+!] and | with mine own | hand ¦ turn'd | my for|tune round, that was | a fair | one: ¦ i have child|ishly [+!] plaid | with my hope | so long, till i have broke | it, and now too late i mourn for 't, ¦ o | spaco|nia, thou hast found | an e|ven way | to thy | revenge | now! [+!] why | didst thou fol|low me, |[+!] like | a faint shad|ow, to wither my desires? but, wretched fool, [+!] why | did i plant | thee ¦ 'twixt | the sun | and me, to make | me freeze | thus? ¦ why | did i | prefer | her [+!] to | the fair prin|cess? ¦ o | thou fool, | thou fool, thou family of fools, |[+!] live | like a slave | still and in | thee bear | thine own |[+!] hell | and thy tor|ment,-- where, beside the frequent double endings and end-stopped lines, already emphasized in preceding examples, we observe in the run of thirteen lines, six stress-syllable openings with their anapæstic sequences, three omissions of the light syllable after the cæsural pause with the consequent accent at the beginning of the verse-section, and no fewer than six feminine cæsuræ (or pauses after an unaccented syllable) of which three at least (vv. , , ) are exaggerated jolts. beaumont is capable in occasional passages, as, for instance, arbaces' speech beginning act i, , , of lines rippling with as many feminine cæsuræ. but, utterly unlike fletcher, he employs in the first thirteen of those lines no double endings, no jolts, only two stress-syllable openings, only four anapæsts, one omitted thesis after the cæsural pause, four end-stopped lines. he is more frequently capable, as in the passage beginning l. , of a sequence without a single feminine cæsura, but with several feminine (or double) endings: _tigranes._ is it the course of iberia, to use their prisoners thus? had fortune throwne my name above arbaces, i should not thus have talkt; for in armenia we hold it base. you should have kept your temper, till you saw home agen, where 't is the fashion perhaps to brag. _arbaces._ bee you my witness, earth, need i to brag? doth not this captive prince speake me sufficiently, and all the acts that i have wrought upon his suffering land? should i then boast? where lies that foot of ground within | his whole | realme ¦ that | i have | not past fighting and conquering?[ ] up to the twelfth verse with its exceptional jolting pause the cæsuræ are masculine, and fall uncompromisingly at the end of the second and third feet. in respect of the internal structure of the verse the tests for beaumont are, then, as i have stated them above; in respect of double endings, boyle and oliphant have set the percentage in his verse at about twenty, and of run-on lines at thirty. since the metrical characteristics of those parts of _philaster_, _the maides tragedy_ and _a king and no king_ which do not bear the impress of fletcher's versification, are well defined and practically uniform; since they are of a piece with the metrical manner of _the woman-hater_, which is originally, and in general, the work of one author--beaumont; and since they are also of a piece with the versification of the _maske_, which is certainly by beaumont alone, and with that of his best poems,--at least one criterion has been established by means of which we may ascertain what other plays, ascribed to the two writers in common, but on less definite evidence, were written in partnership; and in these we may have a basis for determining the parts contributed by each of the authors. fleay and other scholars have grounded an additional criterion upon the fact that the unaided plays of fletcher contain but an insignificant quantity of prose. they consequently have ascribed to beaumont most of the prose passages in the joint-plays. but, because in his later development fletcher found that conversational blank verse would answer all the purposes of prose, it does not follow that in his youthful collaboration with beaumont he never wrote prose. we find, on the contrary, in the joint-plays that the prose passages in scenes otherwise marked by fletcher's characteristics of verse, display precisely the rhetorical qualities of that verse. the prose of mardonius in act iv, scene of _a king and no king_, and the prose of act v, scenes and , which by metrical tests are fletcher's, are precisely the prose of fletcher's dion in act ii, scene and act v, scene of _philaster_, and the tricks of alliteration, triplet, and iteration, are those of fletcher's verse in the same scenes. footnotes: [ ] some sixteen plays in all. [ ] _the chances_, i, , p. (dyce); but as a rule i use in this chapter the text of the _cambridge english classics_. [ ] for these scenes, and the reasons for asserting that fletcher revised them, see chapter xxiv below. [ ] the reader may judge for himself by referring to the citation from the _letter_ and the poems to the countess in chapters vii and xi, above. [ ] fleay, boyle, oliphant, alden. and even g. c. macaulay, who once claimed the whole play for beaumont, says now "perhaps fletcher's." [ ] q , slightly modernized. [ ] iv, , , ; v, , . [ ] quarto of as given by alden. chapter xix fletcher's diction the verse criterion is, however, not of itself a reagent sufficient to precipitate fully the beaumont of the joint-plays. for there still exists the certainty that in plotting plays together, each of the collaborators was influenced by the opinion of the other; and the probability that, though one may have undertaken sundry scenes or divers characters in a play, the other would, in the course of general correction, insert lines in the parts written by his collaborator, and would convey to his own scenes the distinguishing rhythm, "humour," or diction of a definite character, created, or elaborated, by his colleague. it, therefore, follows that the assignment of a whole scene to either author on the basis alone of some recurring metrical peculiarity is not convincing. in the same section, even in the same speech, we may encounter insertions which bear the stamp of the revising colleague. for instance, the opening of _philaster_ is generally assigned to beaumont: it has the characteristics of his prose. but with the entry of the king (line ) we are launched upon a subscene in verse which, on the one hand, has a higher percentage of double endings (_viz._ ) than beaumont ever used, but does not fully come up to fletcher's usage; while on the other hand, it has a higher percentage of run-on lines[ ] (_viz._ ) than fletcher ever used. the other verse tests leave us similarly in doubt. to any one, however, familiar with the diction and characterization of the two authors the suspicion occurs that the scene was written by beaumont in the first instance; and then worked over and considerably enlarged by his associate. in the first hundred lines of act ii, scene , similar insertions by fletcher occur, and in act iii, .[ ] such being the case we may expect that an inquiry into the rhetorical peculiarities and mental habit, first of fletcher, then of beaumont, will furnish tests corrective of the criterion based upon versification. . fletcher's diction in _the faithfull shepheardesse_. though rather poetic than dramatic, and composed only partly in blank verse, _the faithfull shepheardesse_ affords the best approach to a study of fletcher's rhetoric; for, written about and by fletcher alone, it illustrates his youthful style in the period probably shortly before he collaborated with beaumont in the composition of _philaster_. the soliloquy of clorin, with which _the faithfull shepheardesse_ opens, runs as follows: hail, holy earth, whose cold arms do imbrace the truest man that ever fed his flocks by the fat plains of fruitful thessaly! thus i salute thy grave; thus do i pay my early vows and tribute of mine eyes to thy still-loved ashes; thus i free myself from all insuing heats and fires of love; all sports, delights, and [jolly] games, that shepherds hold full dear, thus put i off: now no more shall these smooth brows be [be] girt with youthful coronals, and lead the dance; no more the company of fresh fair maids and wanton shepherds be to me delightful, nor the shrill pleasing sound of merry pipes under some shady dell, when the cool wind plays on the leaves; all be far away, since thou art far away, by whose dear side how often have i sat crowned with fresh flowers for summers queen, whilst every shepherds boy puts on his lusty green, with gaudy hook and hanging scrip of finest cordovan. but thou art gone, and these are gone with thee and all are dead but thy dear memorie; that shall out-live thee, and shall ever spring, whilst there are pipes or jolly shepherds sing. and here will i, in honour of thy love, dwell by thy grave, forgetting all those joys, that former times made precious to mine eyes; only remembring what my youth did gain in the dark, hidden vertuous use of herbs: that will i practise, and as freely give all my endeavours as i gained them free. of all green wounds i know the remedies in men or cattel, be they stung with snakes, or charmed with powerful words of wicked art, or be they love-sick, or through too much heat grown wild or lunatic, their eyes or ears thickened with misty filme of dulling rheum; these i can cure, such secret vertue lies in herbs applyèd by a virgins hand. my meat shall be what these wild woods afford, berries and chestnuts, plantanes, on whose cheeks the sun sits smiling.[ ] this passage, as we have observed in the preceding section, does not display in full proportion or untrammeled variety the metrical peculiarities of fletcher's popular dramatic blank verse. the verse is lyric and declamatory: his purely dramatic verse whether in the _monsieur thomas_ of his earlier period, _the chances_ of the middle period, or _a wife for a month_ and _rule a wife_ of his later years, has the feminine endings, redundant syllables, anapæstic substitutions, the end-stopped and sometimes fragmentary lines, the hurried and spasmodic utterance of conversational speech. but, from the rhetorical point of view, this soliloquy--in fact, the whole _faithfull shepheardesse_--affords a basis for further discrimination between fletcher and beaumont in the joint-plays; for it displays idiosyncrasies of tone-quality and diction which persist, after beaumont's death, in fletcher's dramas of to as they were in - : sometimes slightly modified, more often exaggerated, but in essence the same. in clorin's soliloquy, the reader cannot but notice, first, a tendency toward alliteration, the _fed_ and _flocks_, _fat_ and _fruitful_, _fresh_ and _fair_, _pleasing_ and _pipes_,--alliteration palpable and somewhat crude, but not yet excessive; second, a balanced iteration of words,--"be far away, since thou art far away" (ll. - ), and, five lines further down, "but thou art gone and these are gone with thee," and in lines and "as freely give ... as i gained them free"; and an iteration of phrases, rhetorical asseverations, negatives, alternatives, questions,--"thus i salute thy grave; thus do i pay," "thus i free," "thus put i off" (lines , , ); third, a preference for iteration in triplets,--"no more shall these smooth brows," "no more the company," "nor the shrill ... sound" (lines - ), "or charmed," "or love-sick," "or through too much heat" (lines and ); fourth, a fondness for certain sonorous words,--"all ensuing heats ... all sports" (lines - ), "all my endeavours ... all green wounds" (lines - ), and the "alls" of lines and ; fifth, a plethora of adjectives,--"holy earth," "cold arms," "truest man," "fat plains"--many of them pleonastic--"misty film," "dulling rheum"--some forty nouns buttressed by epithets to twenty standing in their own strength; and a plethora of nouns in apposition (preferably triplets),--"all sports, delights, and jolly games" (line ), "berries and chestnuts, plantanes" (line ); sixth, an indulgence in conversational tautology: for fletcher is rarely content with a simple statement,--he must be forever spinning out the categories of a concept; expounding his idea by what the rhetoricians call division; enumerating the attributes and species painstakingly lest any escape, or verbosely as a padding for verse or speech. of this mannerism the _faithfull shepheardesse_ affords many instances more typical than those contained in these forty-three lines; but even here clorin salutes the grave of her lover in a dozen different periphrastic ways. to say that "all are dead but thy dear memorie" is not enough; she must specify "_that_ shall outlive thee." to assert that she knows the remedies of "all green wounds" does not suffice: she must proceed to the enumeration of the wounds; nor to tell us that her meat shall be found in the woods: she must rehearse the varieties of meat. her soliloquy in the last thirty lines of the scene, not here quoted, is of the same quality: it reminds one of a henslowe list of stage properties, or of the auctioneer's catalogue that sprawls down walt whitman's pages. and, last, we notice what has been emphasized by g. c. macaulay and others, that much of this enumeration by division is by way of "parentheses hastily thrown in, or afterthoughts as they occur to the mind."[ ] even in the formal _shepheardesse_ this characteristic lends a quality of naturalness and conversational spontaneity to the speech. . in the later plays. if now we turn to one of fletcher's plays written after beaumont's death, and without the assistance of massinger or any other,--say, _the humorous lieutenant_ of about the year ,--we find on every page and passages like the following.[ ]--the king antigonus upon the entry of his son, demetrius, addresses the ambassadors of threatening powers: do you see this gent(leman), you that bring thunders in your mouths, and earthquakes, to shake and totter my designs? can you imagine (you men of poor and common apprehensions) while i admit this man, my son, this nature that in one look carries more fire, and fierceness, than all your masters lives[ ]; dare i admit him, admit him thus, even to my side, my bosom, when he is fit to rule, when all men cry him, and all hopes hang about his head; thus place him, his weapon hatched in bloud; all these attending when he shall make their fortunes, all as sudden, in any expedition he shall point 'em, as arrows from a tartar's bow, and speeding, dare i do this, and fear an enemy? fear your great master? yours? or yours? here we have blank verse, distinctively fletcherian with its feminine endings and its end-stopped lines. but, widely as this differs from the earlier rhythm of _the faithfull shepheardesse_ and its more lyric precipitancy, the qualities of tone and diction are in the later play as in the earlier. the alliterations may not be so numerous, and are in general more cunningly concealed and interwoven, as in lines to ; but the cruder kind still appears as a mannerism, the "fire and fierceness," "hopes," "hang," and "head." the iterations of word, phrase, and rhetorical question, and of the resonant "all," the redundant nouns in apposition, the tautological enumeration of categories, proclaim the unaltered fletcher. the adjectives are in this spot pruned, but they are luxuriant elsewhere in the play. the triplets,--"this man, my son, this nature,"--"admit," "admit," "admit," find compeers on nearly every page: shew where to lead, to lodge, to charge with safetie,--[ ] here's a strange fellow now, and a brave fellow, if we may say so of a pocky fellow.--[ ] and now, 't is ev'n too true, i feel a pricking, a pricking, a strange pricking.--[ ] with such a sadness on his face, as sorrow, sorrow herself, but poorly imitates. sorrow of sorrows on that heart that caus'd it![ ] in the passages cited above there happen to be, also, a few examples of the elocutionary afterthought: you come with thunders in your mouth _and earthquakes_,-- as arrows from a tartar's bow, _and speeding_.-- to this device, and to the intensive use of the pronominal "one" fletcher is as closely wedded as to the repetition of "all,"-- they have a hand upon us, a heavy and a hard one.[ ] to wear this jewel near thee; he is a tried one and one that ... will yet stand by thee.[ ] other plays conceded by the critics to fletcher alone, and written in his distinctive blank verse, display the same characteristics of style: _the chances_ of about , _the loyall subject_ of (like _the humorous lieutenant_ of the middle period), and _rule a wife and have a wife_ of the last period, . i quote at random for him who would apply the tests,--first from _the chances_,[ ] the following of the repeating revolver style: art thou not an ass? and modest as her blushes! what a blockhead would e're have popt out such a dry apologie for this dear friend? and to a gentlewoman, a woman of her youth and delicacy? they are arguments to draw them to abhor us. an honest moral man? 't is for a constable: a handsome man, a wholesome man, a tough man, a liberal man, a likely man, a man made up by hercules, unslaked with service: the same to night, to morrow night, the next night, and so to perpetuity of pleasures. now, from _the loyall subject_[ ]--the farewell of _archas_ to his arms and colours. i wish i could quote it all as an example of noble noise, enumerative and penny-a-line rhetoric: farewell, my eagle! when thou flew'st, whole armies have stoopt below thee: at passage i have seen thee ruffle the tartars, as they fled thy furie, and bang 'em up together, as a tassel, upon the streach, a flock of fearfull pigeons. i yet remember when the volga curl'd, the agèd volga, when he heav'd his head up, and rais'd his waters high, to see the ruins, the ruines our swords made, the bloudy ruins; then flew this bird of honour bravely, gentlemen; but these must be forgotten: so must these too, and all that tend to arms, by me for ever. and from act ii, scene , pages - , for triplets: fight hard, lye hard, feed hard, when they come home, sir.... to be respected, reckon'd well, and honour'd.... where be the shouts, the bells rung out, the people?... and, for "alls," and triplets: and whose are all these glories? why their princes, their countries and their friends. alas, of all these, and all the happy ends they bring, the blessings, they only share the labours! finally, from _rule a wife_, a few instances of the iterations, three-fold or multiple, and redundant expositions. in the first scene[ ] juan describes leon: ask him a question, he blushes like a girl, and answers little, to the point less; he wears a sword, a good one, and good cloaths too; he is whole-skin'd, has no hurt yet, good promising hopes; and perez describes the rest of the regiment, that swear as valiantly as heart can wish, their mouths charg'd with six oaths at once, and whole ones, that make the drunken dutch creep into mole-hills; ... and he proceeds to donna margarita: she is fair, and young, and wealthy, infinite wealthy, _etc._ and then to estefania who has tautologized of her chastity, he tautologizes of his harmlessness:[ ] i am no blaster of a lady's beauty, nor bold intruder on her special favours; i know how tender reputation is, and with what guards it ought to be preserv'd, lady. as a fair example of this method of filling a page, i recommend the first scene of the third act; and of eloquence by rhetorical 'division,' perez's description of his room in the next scene: all in terms of three times three. if now the reader will turn, by way of confirmation, to _the triumph of time_ and _the triumph of death_ of which the metrical characteristics are admittedly fletcher's, he will find that there, fletcher, before beaumont's retirement from the partnership, is already using in purely dramatic composition the rhetorical mannerisms which mark both the lyrically designed _shepheardesse_ of his early years and the genuine dramas of the later. . stock words, phrases, and figures. beside the rhetorical mannerisms classified in the preceding paragraphs i might rehearse a long list of fletcher's favourite expressions and figures of speech. of the former mr. oliphant[ ] has mentioned 'plaguily,' 'claw'd,' 'slubber'd,' 'too,' 'shrewdly,' 'stuck with,' 'it shews,' 'dwell round about ye,' 'for ever,' 'no way,' (for 'not at all'). in addition i have noted the reiterated 'thus,' 'miracle,' 'prodigious' (in the sense of 'ominous')--'prodigious star,' 'prodigious meteor'--'bugs,' 'monsters,' and 'scorpions'; 'torments,' 'diseases,' 'imposthumes,' 'canker,' 'mischiefs,' 'ruins,' 'blasted,' 'rotten'; 'myrmidons'; 'monuments' (for 'tombs'), 'marble'; 'lustre,' 'crystal,' 'jewels,' 'picture,' 'painting,' 'counterfeit in arras'; 'blushes,' 'palates,' 'illusion,' 'abused' (for 'deceived'), 'blessed,' 'flung off,' 'cloister'd up,' 'fat earth,' 'turtle,' 'passion,' 'paradise.' oliphant assigns to fletcher 'pulled on,' but i find that almost as frequently in beaumont. 'poison,' 'contagious' and 'loaden,' also abound in fletcher, but are sometimes used by beaumont. fletcher affects alliterative epithets: 'prince of popinjays,' 'pernicious petticoat prince,' 'pretty prince of puppets,'--and antitheses such as 'prince of wax,' 'pelting prattling peace.' his characters talk much of 'silks' and 'satins,' 'branched velvets' and 'scarlet' clothes. they are said to speak in 'riddles'; they are threatened with 'ribald rhymes'; they shall be 'bawled in ballads,' or 'chronicled,' 'cut and chronicled.' another characteristic of fletcher's diction is his preference for the pronoun _ye_ instead of _you_. this was pointed out by mr. r. b. mckerrow, who in his edition of _the spanish curate_[ ] notes that in the scenes generally attributed, in accordance with other tests, to fletcher, _ye_ occurs times, while in the scenes attributed to massinger it occurs but four. that is to say, for every _ye_ in fletcher's part there are but . _you's_; for every _ye_ in massinger's part, _you's_. mr. w. w. greg, applying the test in his edition of _the elder brother_,[ ] and counting the _y'are's_ as instances of _ye_, finds that the percentage of _ye's_ to _you's_ in fletcher's part is almost three times as high as in massinger's. in a recent article in _the nation_[ ] mr. paul elmer more communicates his independent observation of the same mannerism in fletcher. though he has been anticipated in part, his study adds to mckerrow's the valuable information that fletcher uses the _ye_ for _you_ in "both numbers and cases, and in both serious and comic scenes." mr. more's statistics favour the conclusion that the test distinguishes fletcher not only from massinger, but from other collaborators: middleton, rowley, field, jonson, tourneur. they do not carry conviction regarding shakespeare, whose habit as greg and others had already announced varies in a perplexing manner. nor does mr. more arrive at any definite result concerning the test "when applied to the mixed work of beaumont and fletcher." for though the high percentage of _ye's_ in the third and fourth of the _foure playes_ confirms the general attribution of those 'triumphs' to fletcher, the low percentage in the first two 'triumphs' does not justify "the common opinion which attributes them to beaumont." their author, as i have elsewhere stated, was probably field. "in the plays which are units," continues mr. more, "such as _the maid's tragedy_, _philaster_, _a king and no king_, _the knight of the burning pestle_, and _the coxcomb_, this mark of fletcher does not occur at all. it should seem that the writing here, at least in its final form, was almost entirely beaumont's." i have gone through all the plays which have been ordinarily regarded as joint-productions of beaumont and fletcher, and find that in this surmise mr. more is right. _the knight_, to be sure, is beaumont's alone; but with regard to the other four plays mentioned above, in which they undoubtedly coöperated, the suggestion that the writing, at least in its final form, was almost entirely beaumont's, because of the practically complete absence of _ye's_, is justified by the facts. it is, also, helpful in the examination of plays not mentioned in this list. it has, in connection with other considerations, assisted me to the conclusion that fletcher went over two or three scenes of _the woman-hater_, stamping them with his _ye's_ after beaumont had finished it as a whole; and it has confirmed me in the belief that _the scornful ladie_ was one of the latest joint-plays, only partly revised by beaumont,--and that, not long before his death. fletcher's preference for _ye_ is a distinctive mannerism. his usage varies from the employment of one-third as many _ye's_ to that of twice as many _ye's_ as _you's_; whereas beaumont rarely uses a _ye_. even more distinctive is fletcher's use of _y'are_, and of _ye_ in the objective case. the latter, beaumont does not tolerate. for figurative purposes fletcher finds material most frequently in the phenomena of winter and storm: 'frosts,' 'nipping frosts,' 'nipping winds,' 'hail,' 'cakes of ice,' 'icicles,' 'thaw,' 'tempests,' 'thunders,' 'billows,' 'mariners' and 'storm-tossed barks,' 'wild overflows' of waters in stream or torrent; in the phenomena of heat and light: 'suns,' the 'icy moon,' the 'dog-star' or the 'dog,' the 'sirian star,' the 'cold bear' and 'raging lion,' 'aetna,' 'fire and flames'; of trees: root and branch, foliage and fruit; of the oak and clinging vine; of the rose or blossom and the 'destroying canker'; of fever and ague; of youth and desire, and of death 'beating larums to the blood,' of our days that are 'marches to the grave,' and of our lives 'tedious tales soon forgotten.' i have elsewhere called attention to the numerous variations which he plays upon the 'story of a woman.' his 'monuments' are in frequent requisition and, by preference, they 'sweat'; men pursued by widows fear to be 'buried alive in another man's cold monument.' other common images are 'rock him to another world,' 'bestride a billow,' 'plough up the sea.' he indulges in extended mythological tropes as of the 'carthage queen' and ariadne; is especially attracted by adonis, hylas (whom he may have got either from theocritus or the marquis d'urfé's astræan character), and hercules; and, in general, he levies more freely than beaumont on commonplace classical material. in his unassisted dramas his fondness for personification seems to grow: many pages are thick with capitalized abstractions; and the poetry, then, is usually limited to the capitalization. the curious reader will find most of fletcher's predilections in image-making clustered in three or four typical passages of the later and unassisted plays, such as alphonso's raving in _a wife for a month_, iv, ; and in passages, undoubtedly of his verse and diction, in plays written conjointly with beaumont, such as that of spaconia's outburst in _king and no king_, iv, , - . fletcher abounds in optatives: 'would gods thou hadst been so blest!' 'would there were any safety in thy sex!' and the like. he is also given to rhetorical interrogations and elaborate exclamations; more so than beaumont. he affects the lighter kind of oath, the appeal to something sacred, in attestation--'witness heaven!' in entreaty--'high heaven, defend us!' or in mere ejaculation--'equal heavens!' he varies his asseverations so that they appear less bluntly profane: 'by my life!' 'by those lights, i vow!'--or more appropriate to the emergency: 'by all holy in heaven and earth!' he swears occasionally 'by the gods,' but not so frequently as beaumont, for there was a puritanical reaction after beaumont's death. in the early joint-plays he affects particularly 'all the gods,' 'by _all_ those gods, you swore by!' 'by more than all the gods!' in his imprecations he is even more sulphurous than beaumont: 'hell bless you for it!' 'hell take me then!' 'thou all-sin, all-hell, and last all-devils!' in summary let us say of fletcher's diction, that its vocabulary is repetitious; its sentence-structure, loose, cumulative, trailing: that its larger movement is, in general, dramatic, conversational, abrupt, rather than lyrical, declamatory, reflective. he writes for the plot--forward: not from the character--outward. when he bestows a lyrical or descriptive touch upon the narrative it is always incidental to conversation or stage business. when he indulges in a classical reminiscence he permits himself to embroider and bedizen; but usually his ribbons (from a scantly furnished, much-rummaged wardrobe) are carelessly pinned on. while capable, especially in tragedy, of occasional long speeches, he prefers the brief interchange of utterance, the rapid fire and spasm of dialogue. footnotes: [ ] in the king's speech, - . [ ] for particulars, see chapter xxv, § , below. [ ] as given in the _camb. engl. classics_. [ ] g. c. macaulay, _francis beaumont_, p. . [ ] act i, sc. , _camb. engl. classics_, ii, p. . [ ] crane _ms._ ( ). [ ] _cambridge_, ii, p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . [ ] _loyall subject_, iii, , end. [ ] _hum. lieut., cambridge_, ii, p. . [ ] john in ii, , _camb._, iv, p. . [ ] i, , _camb._, iii, p. . [ ] _camb._, iii, p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . [ ] _engl. studien_, xiv, . [ ] _variorum, b. and f._, vol. ii, . [ ] _variorum, b. and f._, vol. ii, . [ ] new york, nov. , . chapter xx fletcher's mental habit from the study of fletcher's unaided plays we arrive at a still further criterion for the determination of his share in the joint-plays,--his stock of ideas concerning life, his view of the spectacle, and his emotional attitude. his early pastoral comedy _the faithfull shepheardesse_ might be dismissed from consideration as a conventionalized literary treatment of conditions remote from actual experience, were it not that other dramatic exponents of shepherds and shepherdesses--jonson, for instance, and milton--have succeeded in imbuing the pastoral species with qualities distinctly vital; the former, with rustic reality and genuine tenderness; the latter, with profound moral significance. _the faithfull shepheardesse_, on the other hand, with all its beauty of artistic form is devoid of reality, pathos, and sublimity. the author has no ideas worthy of the name and, in spite of his singing praises of chastity, he has his hand to his mouth where between fyttes there blossoms a superb smile. he has in art no depth of conviction; consequently, no philosophy of life to offer. _the faithfull shepheardesse_ strikes the intellectual keynote of all fletcher's unaided work. he is a playwright of marvellous skill, a lyrist of facile verse and fancy, but a poet of indifference--of no ethical insight or outlook when he is purveying for the public. his tragedies, for instance _valentinian_ and _bonduca_ (the two scenes of the latter that may not be his are negligible), abound in sudden fatal passions and noble diction. they involve moral conduct, to be sure, patriotism, loyalty, chivalry, military prowess, insane lust and vengeance, but they lack deep-seated and deliberate motive of action, and they fail of that inevitability of spiritual conflict which is requisite to a tragic effect. the heroes of these, and of his tragicomedies and romantic dramas, such as _a wife for a month_, _the loyall subject_, _the humorous lieutenant_, _the pilgrim_, _the island princesse_, may be fearless and blameless, but their courage and virtue are of habit rather than of moral exigency. their loyalty is frequently unreasonable and absurdly exaggerated. one or two of his virtuous heroines are at once charming and real; but as a rule with fletcher--the more virtuous, the more nebulous. his villains have no redeeming touch of humanity: their doom moves us not; nor does their sleight-of-hand repentance convince us. the atmosphere is histrionic. there is scorn of fate and fortune, much talk of death and the grave: and we "go out like tedious tales forgotten"; or we don't,--just as may suit the stage hangings, the brilliance of the footlights, and the sentimental uptake. there is, in short, in his unassisted serious dramas little real pathos; little of the grandeur and sudden imaginative splendour which, we shall see, characterized beaumont; none of beaumont's earnestness and philosophical spontaneity and profundity. like the tragicomic plays, fletcher's lighter comedies _the chances_, _the mad lover_, _the wild-goose chase_, _women pleased_, escape a moral catastrophe by walking round the issue. the heroes are amorous gallants, irresponsible adventurers, adroit scapegraces, devil-may-care rapier-tongued egoists and opportunists. the heroines are "not made for cloisters"; when they are not already as conscienceless as the heroes in performance or desire, they are airy lasses, resourceful in love, seeming-virtuous but suspiciously well-informed of the tarnished side of the shield,--always witty. fletcher _can_ portray the innocence and constancy of woman; but he rarely takes the pains. "to be as many creatures as a woman" is for him a comfortable jibe. the charm of romantic character and subtly thickening complication did not much attract him. he sets over in contrast the violent, insane, tragic, or pathetic with the ludicrous or grotesque; he indulges a careless, loose-jointed, adventitious humour. that he could, on occasion, avail himself of the laughter of burlesque is abundantly proved by the utterances of his valentine in _wit without money_, the devices of the inimitable maria in _the tamer tamed_, and of the _humorous lieutenant_. but for that comic irony of issues by which the wilful or pretentious or deluded,--foes or fools of convention and born prey of ridicule,--are satisfactorily readjusted to society, he prefers to substitute hilarity, ribaldry, the clash of wits, the battledore and shuttlecock of trick, intrigue, of shifting group and kaleidoscopic situation. the idiosyncrasies of the crowd delight him; but the more actual, the more boisterous and bestial. his populace feeds upon "opinions, errors, dreams." his facile verse and limpid dialogue flash with fancy. the gaiety of gilded youth ripples down the page; but the more clever, the more irrelevant the swirling jest,--and, to say the least, the more indelicate. life is a bagatelle; its most strenuous interest--love; and love is volatile as it is sudden. the attitude of sex toward sex is as obvious to the level-headed animal, who is cynic in brain and hedonist in blood, as its significance is supreme: it is that of the man-or-woman hunt; the outcome, a jocosity, more or less,--whether of fornication or cuckoldry, or of tame, old-fashioned, matrimonial monochrome. these characteristics of the fletcherian habit mark all the author's independent plays from _the faithfull shepheardesse_ of or to _rule a wife_ of . the man himself, i think, was better than the dramaturgic artist catering to the public market. for his personal, nay noble, ideals, let the reader turn to the poem appended to _the honest mans fortune_, and judge. the characteristics sketched above are of the maker of a mimic world. since i have elsewhere discussed them in full,[ ] and the marvellous success that the dramaturge achieved in shakespeare's globe, this brief enumeration must suffice. fletcher's mental habit affords an additional criterion for the determination of authorship in the unquestioned beaumont-fletcher plays, and in the analysis of plays in which the collaboration of the poets has been conjectured but not so fully attested. footnotes: [ ] _the fellows and followers of shakespeare_ (part two) in _representative english comedies_, vol. iii. chapter xxi beaumont's diction from a consideration of beaumont's work in his poems, in his _maske_ and _woman-hater_, and such portions of the three unquestioned beaumont-fletcher plays as are marked by his idiosyncrasies of versification, we may arrive at conclusions concerning his diction, rhetorical and poetic. . rhetorical peculiarities in general. beaumont's frequent use in prose of the enclitics 'do' and 'did' has been observed by students of his style. the same peculiarity marks his verse, and occasionally enables the reader to determine the authorship of passages where the metrical tests are inconclusive. his rhetoric is sometimes of the repetitive order, but, as oliphant has indicated, rather for ends of word-play and irony than for mere expansion as with fletcher. such, for instance, is the ironical repetition of a speaker's words by his interlocutor. i note also a tendency to purely dramatic quotation, not common in fletcher's writing,--_e. g._, in _the woman-hater_: "lisping cry 'good sir!' and he's thine own"; or "every one that does not know, cries 'what nobleman is that?'"--and in _a king and no king_ "that hand was never wont to draw a sword, but it cried 'dead' to something." this test alone, if we had not others of rhetoric and metre, would go far to deciding the respective contributions of our authors to the personality of captain bessus in the latter play. the bessus of the first three acts, undoubtedly beaumont's, is resonant with such cries and conversational citations; the bessus of the last two, in a rôle almost as extensive, uses the device but once. beaumont sometimes indulges in enumerative sentences; but the enumerations are generally in prose and (it will be recalled that he was a member of the inner temple) of a mock-legal character, not mere redundancies of detail such as we find in fletcher. among other peculiarities of expression is his frequent employment of 'ha' as an interrogative interjection. . stock words, phrases, and figures. beaumont is especially fond of the following words and phrasal variations:--the 'basilisk' with his 'deaddoing eye,' 'venom,' 'infect,' 'infection' and 'infectious,' 'corrupt,' 'leprosy,' 'vild,' 'crosses' (for 'misfortunes'), 'crossed' and 'crossly matched,' 'perplex,' 'distracted,' 'starts' (for 'surprises' and 'fitful changes'), 'miseries,' 'griefs,' 'garlands,' 'cut,' 'shoot,' 'dissemble,' 'loathed,' 'salve' (as noun and verb), 'acquaint' and 'acquaintance,' to 'article,' 'pull,' 'piece,' 'frail' and 'frailty,' 'mortal' and 'mortality,' 'fate' and 'destiny,' to 'blot' from earth or memory, 'after-ages,' 'instruments' (for 'servants'). of his repeated use of 'hills,' 'caves,' 'mines,' 'seas,' 'thunder,' 'beast,' 'bull,' we shall have further exemplification when we consider his figures of speech. he is forever playing phrasal variations upon the words 'piece,' and 'little.' the former is a mannerism of the day, already availed of by shakespeare in _lear_, 'o ruined piece of nature,' and frequently in _antony and cleopatra_, and later repeated in the _tempest_ and _winter's tale_. so with beaumont, arethusa is a 'poor piece of earth'; 'every maid in love will have a piece' of philaster; oriana is a 'precious piece of sly damnation,' 'that pleasing piece of frailty we call woman.' or the word is used literally for 'limb':--'i'll love those pieces you have cut away.'--beaumont, i may say in passing, delights in cutting bodies 'into motes,' and sending 'limbs through the land.'--'little' he affects, making it pathetic and even more diminutive in conjunction with 'that': euphrasia would 'keep that little piece i hold of life.' 'it is my fate,' proclaims amintor, to bear and bow beneath a thousand griefs to keep that little credit with the world; and so, 'that little passion,' 'that little training,' 'these little wounds,' _ad libitum_. somewhat akin is the poet's use of 'kind': 'a kind of love in her to me'; 'a kind of healthful joy.' his heroines good and bad are given to introspection: they have 'acquaintance' with themselves. 'after you were gone,' says bellario, 'i grew acquainted with my heart'; and bacha in _cupid's revenge_ in a scene undoubtedly of beaumont's verse 'loathes' herself and is 'become another woman; one, methinks, with whom i want acquaintance.' while beaumont makes occasional use of simile, his figures of poetry, or tropes, are generally of the more creative kind,--metaphor, personification, metonymy,--and these are very often heightened into that figure of logical artifice known as hyperbole. his comparisons deal in a striking degree with elemental phenomena: hills, caves, stones, rocks, seas, winds, flames, thunder, cold, ice, snow; or they are reminiscential of country life. in each play some hero declaims of 'the only difference betwixt man and beast, my reason'; and inevitably enlarges upon the 'nature unconfined' of beasts, and illustrates by custom and passion of ram, goat, heifer, or bull--especially bull. when the bull of the pasture does not suffice, the bull of phalaris charges in. but beaumont prefers nature: his images are sweet with april and violets and dew and morning-light, or fields of standing corn 'moved with a stiff gale'--their heads bowing 'all one way.' from the manufacture of books he borrows two metaphors, 'printing' and 'blotting,' and plies them with effective variety: philaster 'prints' wounds upon bellario; bellario 'printed' her 'thoughts in lawn'; amintor will 'print a thousand wounds' upon evadne's flesh; and nature wronged panthea 'to print continual conquest on her cheeks and make no man worthy for her to take.' with similar frequency recur 'blotted from earth,' 'blotted from memory,' 'this third kiss blots it out.' the younger poet personifies abstractions as frequently as fletcher, but in a more poetic way. he vitalizes grief and guilt and memory with figurative verbs--'shoot,' 'grow,' 'cut.' 'i feel a grief shoot suddenly through all my veins' cries amintor; and again 'thine eyes shoot guilt into me.' 'i feel a sin growing upon my blood' shudders arbaces. philaster will 'cut off falsehood while it springs'; amintor welcomes the hand that should 'cut' him from his sorrows; and evadne confesses that her sin is 'tougher than the hand of time can cut from man's remembrance.' similar metaphorical constructions abound, such as 'pluck me back from my entrance into mirth,' in one of leucippus' speeches in beaumont's part of _cupid's revenge_; and in a speech of melantius 'i did a deed that plucked five years from time' in _the maides tragedy_. personified grief and sorrow are frequently in the plural with beaumont:--'nothing but a multitude of walking griefs.' it is a mistake to suppose, as some do, that passages written in beaumont's metrical style are not by him if they abound in personification. hunger, black despair, pride, wantonness, figure in his verse in _the woman-hater_; chance, death, and fortune in _the knight_; death, victory, and friendship, in _the maides tragedy_; destiny, falsehood, mortality, nature in _philaster_; and so on. no dramatist since the day of kyd and marlowe has more frequent or violent resort to hyperbole. his heroes call on 'seas to quench the fires' they 'feel,' and 'snows to quench their rising flames'; they will 'drink off seas' and 'yet have unquenched fires left' in their breasts; they 'wade through seas of sins'; they 'set hills on hills' and 'scale them all, and from the utmost top fall' on the necks of foes, 'like thunder from a cloud'; or they 'discourse to all the underworld the worth' of those they love. 'from his iron den' they'll 'waken death, and hurl him' on lascivious kings. arethusa's heart is 'mines of adamant to all the world beside,' but to her lover 'a lasting mine of joy'; her breath 'sweet as arabian winds when fruits are ripe'; her breasts 'two liquid ivory balls.' evadne will sooner 'find out the beds of snakes,' and 'with her youthful blood warm their cold flesh 'than accede to amintor's desires. 'the least word' that panthea speaks 'is worth a life.' 'the child, this present hour brought forth to see the world, has not a soul more pure' than oriana's. in one of beaumont's verse-scenes of _the coxcombe_, ricardo, reinstated in his viola's esteem, would have some woman 'take an everlasting pen' into her hand, 'and grave in paper more lasting than the marble monuments' the matchless virtues of women to posterities. and as for bellario's worth to philaster,-- 't is not the treasure of all kings in one, the wealth of tagus, nor the rocks of pearl that pave the court of neptune, can weigh down that virtue. echoes not of kyd and marlowe only, but of shakespeare from _romeo_ to _hamlet_ and _macbeth_, reverberate in the magniloquent hyperbole of beaumont. beaumont has more ejaculations than fletcher, but fewer optatives. he is chary of rhetorical questions, and his exclamations run by preference into some figured hyperbole. he appeals less frequently than fletcher to 'all the gods,' but very often to 'the gods,' 'good gods,' 'ye gods,' 'some god.' he refers, in conformity with his deterministic view of life, with particular preference to the 'just gods,' the 'powers that must be just,' the 'powers above,' 'ye better powers,' 'heaven and the powers divine,' 'you heavenly powers,' the 'powers that rule us'; and all these he uses in attestation. an oath distinctive of him is 'by my vexed soul!' in his hyperboles, hell and devils play their part; but not in oath so frequently as with fletcher. . lines of inevitable poetry. similarly noticeable is beaumont's faculty for 'simple poetic phrasing.' the elevated passion, the sudden glory,--and the large utterance of brief sentence and single verse, have been remarked by critics from his contemporary, john earle, who wrote in commendation: such strength, such sweetness couched in every line, such life of fancy, such high choice of brain, down to g. c. macaulay, herford, and alden of the present day. no reader, even the most cursory, can fail to be impressed by the completeness of that one line (in his lament for elizabeth sidney), sorrow can make a verse without a muse,-- by the 'unassuming beauty' of viola's loneliness (in his subplot of _the coxcombe_), all things have cast me from 'em but the earth. the evening comes, and every little flower droops now as well as i;-- by the sublimity of those few words to the repentant lover, all the forgiveness i can make you is to love you;-- by the superb simplicity of bellario's scorn of life, in _philaster_, 't is but a piece of childhood thrown away, and the finality of her definition of death (which, as if in premonition of his too sudden fate, is characteristic of beaumont),-- 't is less than to be born; a lasting sleep; a quiet resting from all jealousy, a thing we all pursue; i know, besides, it is but giving over of a game that must be lost;-- by the pathetic irony of aspatia's farewell to love in _the maides tragedy_, so with my prayers i leave you, and must try some yet-unpractis'd way to grieve and die; and the heroism (in _cupid's revenge_, the final scene, undoubtedly of beaumont's verse) of urania's confession to leucippus, i would not let you know till i was dying; for you could not love me, my mother was so naught; by panthea's cry of horror, in _a king and no king_, i feel a sin growing upon my blood; and by those flashes of incomparable verity that intensify the gloom of _the maides tragedy_: amintor's those have most power to hurt us, that we love; we lay our sleeping lives within their arms; and after evadne's death, my soul grows weary of her house, and i all over am a trouble to myself;-- by the wounded aspatia's i shall sure live, amintor, i am well; a kind of healthful joy wanders within me; and her parting whisper, give me thy hand; mine eyes grope up and down, and cannot find thee. this is nature sobbing into verse: the unadorned poetry of the human heartbreak. where other than in shakespeare do we find among the jacobean poets such verse? that a style of this kind should be rich in apothegm is not surprising. instances rare in wisdom and phrasal conciseness are to be encountered on every other page of beaumont. it may, in short, be said of this dramatist's rhetorical and poetic diction, that, while the vocabulary may not be more varied, it is more intimate, musical, and reverberant than fletcher's; that the periods, though sometimes appropriately syncopated and parenthetically broken, as in dramatic conversation, are, in rhapsodical and descriptive passages, both complex and balanced of structure,--pregnant of ideas labouring for expression rather than enumerative; that they echo shakespeare's grandeur of phrase, with its involution, crowding of illustration and fresh insistent thought, in a degree utterly foreign to the rhetoric of fletcher; and that his brief sentences are marked by a direct and final resplendence and simplicity. in the larger movements of composition the purely poetic quality predominates over the narrative, dramatic or conversational. this characteristic is especially noticeable in declamatory speeches and soliloquies; sometimes idyllic as in philaster's description of bellario,--"i found him sitting by a fountain's side,"--or in the well-known "oh that i had been nourished in these woods with milk of goats and acorns"; often operatic, as in aspatia's farewells to amintor and to love; always lyrical, imaginatively surcharged. beaumont's figures of rhetoric when not hyperbolic, are picturesquely natural; his poetic tropes are creative, vitalizing. his speakers are self-revelatory: expressive of temperament, emotion, reflection. their utterances are frequently descriptive, picturesquely loitering, rather than, by way of dialogue, framed to further the action alone. and yet, when they will, their conversation is spontaneous, fragmentary, and abrupt, intensifying the dramatic situation; not simply, as with fletcher, by giving opportunity for stage-business, but by differencing the motive that underlies the action. chapter xxii beaumont's mental habit from passages in the indubitable metrical manner and rhetorical style of beaumont we pass to a still further test by which to determine his share in doubtful passages--i mean his stock of ideas. critics have long been familiar with the determinism of his philosophy of life. his arethusa in _philaster_ expresses it in a nutshell: if destiny (to whom we dare not say, why didst thou this?) have not decreed it so, in lasting leaves (whose smallest characters was never altered yet), this match shall break.-- we are ignorant of the 'crosses of our births.' nature 'loves not to be questioned, why she did this or that, but has her ends, and knows she does well.' "but thou," cries the poet,-- but thou hadst, ere thou knew'st the use of tears, sorrow laid up against thou cam'st to years. 'tis the gods, 'the gods, that make us so.' they would not have their 'dooms withstood, whose holy wisdoms make our passions the way unto their justice.' and 'out of justice we must challenge nothing.' the gods reward, the gods punish: 'i am a man and dare not quarrel with divinity ... and you shall see me bear my crosses like a man.' it is the 'will of heaven'; 'a decreed instant cuts off every life, for which to mourn is to repine.'[ ] similarly familiar is beaumont's recurrent doctrine of the divinity of kings. "in that sacred word," says his amintor of _the maides tragedy_,-- in that sacred word 'the king,' there lies a terror: what frail man dares lift his hand against it? let the gods speak to him when they please; till when let us suffer and wait. and again, to the monarch who has wronged him, there is divinity about you, that strikes dead my rising passions; as you are my king i fall before you, and present my sword to cut mine own flesh, if it be your will. of 'the breath of kings' beaumont's fancy constructs ever new terrors: it is 'like the breath of gods'; it may blow men 'about the world.' but when a king is guilty, though he may boast that his breath 'can still the winds, uncloud the sun, charm down the swelling floods, and stop the floods of heaven,' some honest man is always to be found to say 'no; nor' can thy 'breath smell sweet itself if once the lungs be but corrupted.' though the gods place kings 'above the rest, to be served, flattered, and adored,' kings may not 'article with the gods'-- on lustful kings unlooked-for sudden deaths from heaven are sent; but curs'd is he that is their instrument. of 'this most perfect creature, this image of his maker, well-squared man' beaumont philosophizes much. again and again he reminds us that 'the only difference betwixt man and beast is reason.' in the moment of guilty passion his arbaces of _a king and no king_ cries: "accursèd man! thou bought'st thy reason at too dear a rate, for thou hast all thy actions bounded in with curious rules, when every beast is free." and, in the moment of jealousy, philaster laments, oh, that, like beasts, we could not grieve ourselves with that we see not! beaumont knows of no natural felicity or liberty more to be envied than that of the beast; and of no opprobrium more vile than that which likens man to lustful beast, or 'worse than savage beast.' he is impressed with the frailty of mankind and the brevity of life: 'frail man' and 'transitory man' fell readily from his lips who was to die so young. he emphasizes the objective quality of evil: "good gods, tempt not a frail man!" prays philaster; and arbaces struggling against temptation: "what art thou, that dost creep into my breast; and dar'st not see my face?" once temptation has taken root, it grows insidiously: panthea "feels a sin growing upon her blood"; and arbaces moralizes there is a method in man's wickedness it grows up by degrees. it is natural, therefore, that beaumont should frequently fall back upon 'conscience' and its 'sensibility.' and upon the efficacy of repentance. so leucippus in beaumont's portion of _cupid's revenge_, prays the gods to hold him back,--"lest i add sins to sins, till no repentance will cure me." arbaces finds repentance. evadne knows that it is 'the best sacrifice.' from this consciousness of uneasy greatness and frail mortality the poet seeks refuge in descriptions of pastoral life. his pictures of idyllic beauty and simplicity are too well-known to warrant repetition here: bellario weaving garlands by the fountain's side; philaster's rhapsody in the woods; valerio's "come, pretty soul, we now are near our home" to viola in the _coxcombe_, and viola's "what true contented happiness dwells here, more than in cities!" the same conception marks as beaumont's the shrewdly humorous conversation in prose between the citizens' wives in _a king and no king_, beginning-- lord, how fine the fields be! what sweet living 'tis in the country!-- ay, poor souls, god help 'em, they live as contentedly as one of us. through the fourth act of _philaster_, and wherever else beaumont portrays the countryside or country men and women, there blows the fresh breeze of the charnwood forest in his native leicestershire. but his most poetic themes are of the friendship of man for man, and of the 'whiteness' of women's innocence, the unselfishness of their love, their forgivingness, and the reverence due from men who so little understand them. "and were you not my king," protests the blunt mardonius to his hasty lord, "i should have chose you out to love above the rest." "i have not one friend in the court but thou," says prince leucippus; and his devoted follower can only stammer "you know i love you but too well." in that fine summing up of melantius to amintor, one seems to hear beaumont himself: the name of friend is more than family or all the world besides. with woman's purity his darkest pages are starred. she is 'innocent as morning light,' 'more innocent than sleep,' 'as white as innocence herself.' 'armed with innocence' a tender spotless maid 'may walk safe among beasts.' her 'prayers are pure,' and she is 'fair and virtuous still to ages.'[ ] his fairest heroines are philosophers of 'the truth of maids and perjuries of men.' "all the men i meet are harsh and rude," says aspatia, and have a subtilty in everything which love could never know; but we fond women harbour the easiest and the smoothest thoughts, and think all shall go so. it is unjust that men and women should be match'd together. his viola of the _coxcombe_ continues the contention: woman, they say, was only made of man methinks 'tis strange they should be so unlike; it may be, all the best was cut away to make the woman, and the naught was left behind with him. and the philosophy of beaumont's love-lorn maidens she sums up in her conclusion: scholars affirm the world's upheld by love; but i believe women maintain all this, for there's no love in men. deserted by her lover, she finds 'how valiant and how 'fraid at once, love makes a virgin'; and, sought again by him repentant, she epitomizes the hearts of all bellarios, arethusas, pantheas, uranias: i will set no penance to gain the great forgiveness you desire, but to come hither, and take me and it ... for god's sake, urge your faults no more, but mend! all the forgiveness i can make you, is to love you: which i will do, and desire nothing but love again; which if i have not, yet i will love you still. all man can do in return for such long-suffering mercy is to revere: "how rude are all men that take the name of civil to ourselves" murmurs the reformed ricardo; and then-- i do kneel because it is an action very fit and reverent, in presence of so pure a creature. so kneels arbaces; and so, in spirit, philaster and amintor. prayer is for beaumont a very present aid. of his women especially the 'vows' and 'oblations' are a poetic incense continually ascending. and closely akin to the prayerful innocence of tender maids is the pathos of their 'childhood thrown away.' even his whimsical oriana of _the woman-hater_ can aver: the child this present hour brought forth to see the world has not a soul more pure, more white, more virgin that i have. the bitterest experiences of humanity are sprung from misapprehension,--"they have most power to hurt us that we love,"--or from jealousy, slander, unwarranted violence, unmerited pain. and for these the only solace is in death. about this truth beaumont weaves a shroud of unsullied beauty, a poetry that has rarely been surpassed. in nearly all that he has left us the thought recurs; but nowhere better expressed than in those lines, already quoted in full from _philaster_, where bellario "knows what 'tis to die ... a lasting sleep; a quiet resting from all jealousy." his arethusa repeats the theme; but with a wistful incertitude: i shall have peace in death yet tell me this: there will be no slanders, no jealousy in the other world; no ill there? "no," replies her unjustly suspicious lover.--and she:--"show me, then, the way!" no kinder mercy to the tempted, misconceived heir of mortality has been vouchsafed than to 'suffer him to find his quiet grave in peace.' so think panthea and arbaces; and so his urania and leucippus find. and so the poet closes that rare elegy to his belovèd countess of rutland: i will not hurt the peace which she should have, by longer looking in her quiet grave. but still more powerful in its blessing than 'sleep' and the 'peace' of the 'quiet grave,' and more fearful in its bane than the penalties of hell,--one reality persists--the award of 'after-ages.' bellario would not reveal what she has learned, to make her life 'last ages.' philaster's highest praise for arethusa is "thou art fair and virtuous still to ages." "kill me," says amintor to evadne,-- kill me; all true lovers, that shall live in after-ages crossed in their desires, shall bless thy memory. ricardo of the _coxcombe_ would have some woman 'grave in paper' their 'matchless virtues to posterities.' even the mock-romantic jasper in the _knight_ (which i am sure is all beaumont) will try his sweetheart's love 'that the world and memory may sing to after-times her constancy.' as to evil, it meets its punishment both in heredity and in the verdict of generations yet to come. "i see," soliloquizes the usurping king in a passage already quoted from _philaster_: you gods, i see that who unrighteously holds wealth or state from others shall be cursed in that which meaner men are blest withal: ages to come shall know no male of him left to inherit, and his name shall be blotted from earth; if he have any child it shall be crossly matched. "show me the way," cries arbaces to his supposed mother, and thinking of heredity, "to the inheritance i have by thee, which is a spacious world of impious acts." and amintor warns evadne: "let it not rise up for thy shame and mine to after-ages.... we will adopt us sons; the virtue shall inherit and not blood." "may all ages," prays the lascivious bacha in _cupid's revenge_, "may all ages,"-- that shall succeed curse you as i do! and if it be possible, i ask it, heaven, that your base issues may be ever monstrous, that must for shame of nature and succession, be drowned like dogs! so, _passim_, in beaumont--'lasting to ages in the memory of this damnèd act'; 'a great example of their justice to all ensuing ages.' footnotes: [ ] elegy on the countess of rutland. [ ] i cannot understand how so careful a scholar as professor schelling (_engl. lit. during lifetime of shakesp._, ) can attribute to him, from the hopelessly uncritical collection of blaiklock, the poem entitled _the indifferent_, and argue therefrom his "cynicism" concerning the constancy of woman. chapter xxiii the authorship of three disputed plays with the tests which have thus been described we are equipped for an examination of the plays written before , which have, in these latter days, been with some show of evidence regarded as the joint-production of the "two wits and friends."[ ] while attempting to separate the composition of one author from that of the other, we may determine the dramatic peculiarities of each during the course of the partnership, and obtain a fairly definite basis for an historical and literary appreciation of the plays, individually considered. .--of the _foure playes, or morall representations, in one_ (first published as by beaumont and fletcher in the folio of , but without indication of first performance or of acting company), the last two, _the triumph of death_ and _the triumph of time_, are, according to the verse tests, undoubtedly fletcher's and have been assigned to him by all critics. _the triumph of death_ is studded with alliterations and with repetitions of the effective word: oh i could curse and crucify myself for childish doting upon a face that feeds not with fresh figures every fresh hour; and with triplets: what new body and new face must i make me, with new manners; and with the resonant "all": make her all thy heaven, and all thy joy, for she is all thy happiness; and with fletcher's favourite words and his nouns in apposition, rhetorical questions, afterthoughts, verbal enumerations, and turgid exposition. the same may be said of _the triumph of time_. as there is less of the redundant epithet than in _the faithfull shepheardesse_ ( ), but more than in _philaster_ (before july , ), i am of the opinion that fletcher's contribution to the _triumphs_ falls chronologically between those plays. as fletcher matures he prunes his adjectives. the rest of these _morall representations_ display neither the verse nor the rhetoric of fletcher. on the basis of verse-tests boyle assigns them to beaumont. macaulay says, "probably,"--and adds the _induction_. but oliphant, taking into consideration also the rhetorical and dramatic qualities, gives the _induction_ and _the triumph of honour_ to a third author, nathaniel field, and only _the triumph of love_ to beaumont. as to the _induction_ and _the triumph of honour_ i agree with oliphant. they are full of polysyllabic latinisms such as field uses in his _woman is a weather-cocke_ (entered for publication november , ) and beaumont never uses: 'to participate affairs,' 'torturous engine,' etc.; and they are marked by simpler fieldian expressions 'wale,' 'gyv'd,' 'blown man,' 'miskill,' 'vane,' 'lubbers,' 'urned,' and a score of others not found anywhere in beaumont's undoubted writings. a few words, like 'basilisk' and 'loathed' suggest beaumont, as does the verse; but this may be explained by vogue or imitation. field was two or three years younger than beaumont, and had played as a boy actor in one or more of the early beaumont and fletcher productions. his _woman is a weather-cocke_ and his _amends for ladies_ indicate the influence of beaumont in matters of comic invention, poetic hyperbole, burlesque and pathos, as well as in metrical style. the _honour_ is a somewhat bombastic, puerile, magic-show written in manifest imitation of beaumont's verse and rhetoric. as to _the triumph of love_, i go further than oliphant. i assign at least half of it, viz., scenes , , and , on the basis of diction, to field. in scenes , , and , i find some trace of beaumont's favourite expressions, of his thoughts of destiny and death and woman's tenderness, his poetic spontaneity, his sensational dramatic surprises; but i think these are an echo. the rural scene lacks his exquisite simplicity; and some of the words are not of his vocabulary. one is sorry to strike from the list of beaumont's creations the pathetic and almost impressive figure of violante. if it was originally beaumont's, it is of his earlier work revamped by field; if it is field's, it is an echo simulating the voice, but missing the reality, of beaumont's aspatia, bellario, urania. this criticism holds true of both the triumphs, _love_ and _honour_. the commonly accepted date, , for the composition of the _foure playes in one_ is derived from fleay, who mistakenly quotes a reference in the quarto of _the yorkshire tragedy_ to the _foure playes_ as if it were of the quarto where the reference does not appear.[ ] while fletcher may have written the first draft of his contribution before the middle of , it is evident from field's address _to the reader_ in the first quarto of the _woman is a weather-cocke_ (entered s. r., november , ), that field's contribution was made after november , . in that address he makes it plain that this is his first dramatic effort: "i have been vexed with vile plays myself a great while, hearing many; now i thought to be even with some, and they should hear mine too." we have already noticed[ ] that field had not written even his _weather-cocke_, still less anything in collaboration with fletcher, at the time of the publication of _the faithfull shepheardesse_ (between january and july, ); for in his complimentary poem for the quarto of that "pastorall," field acknowledges his unknown name and his muse in swaddling clouts, and timidly confesses his ambition to write something like _the shepheardesse_, "including a morallitie, sweete and profitable." that field's contribution to the _foure playes_ was not made before the date of the first performance of _the weather-cocke_ by the revels' children at whitefriars, _i. e._, january , to christmas - (when its presentation before the king at whitehall probably took place), further appears from his dedication _to any woman that hath been no weather-cocke_ (quarto, ) in which he alludes not to _the triumph of honour_, or of _love_, but to _amends for ladies_, as his "next play," then on the stocks, and, he thought, soon to be printed.[ ] the evidence, external and internal, amply presented by oliphant, thorndike, and others, but with a view to conclusions different from mine as to date and authorship, confirms me in the belief that fletcher's _time_ and _death_, though written at least two years earlier, were not gathered up with field's _induction_, _honour_, and _love_, into the _foure playes in one_ until about ; and that the series was performed at whitefriars by field's company of the queen's revels' children, shortly after they had first acted _cupid's revenge_ at the same theatre. .--of the remaining ten plays in which, according to the historical evidence adduced by various critics, beaumont could have collaborated, at least two furnish no material that can be of service for the estimation of his qualities. if _love's cure_ was written as early as the date of certain references in the story, viz., - , it is so overlaid by later alteration that whether, as the textual experts guess, it be beaumont's revised by massinger, or fletcher's revised by massinger and others, or massinger and middleton's, or beaumont's with the assistance of fletcher and revised by massinger, beaumont for us is indeterminate. fleay, oliphant, and others trace him in a few prose scenes, and in two or three of verse.[ ] but where the rhetorical and dramatic manner occasionally suggest him, or the metre has somewhat of his stamp, words abound that i find in no work of his undisputed composition. the servant, lazarillo, like him of beaumont's _woman-hater_, is a glutton, but he does not speak beaumont's language. the scenes ascribed to beaumont reek with an excremental and sexual vulgarity to which beaumont never condescended, unless for brief space, and when absolutely necessary for characterization. and there is little, indeed, that bespeaks fletcher. _love's cure_ was first attributed to beaumont and fletcher at a "reviving of the play" after they were both dead; and it was not printed till . it is not unlikely, as g. c. macaulay holds, that the play was written by massinger, in or after . .--as to that comedy of prostitution, with occasional essays on the special charms of cuckoldry, _the captaine_ (acted in , maybe as early as , and by the king's company) there is no convincing external proof of beaumont's authorship. it is, on the contrary, assigned to fletcher by one of his younger contemporaries, hills, whose attributions of such authorship are frequently correct; and its accent throughout is more clearly that of fletcher than of any other dramatist. the critics are agreed that it is not wholly his, however; and g. c. macaulay in especial conjectures the presence of massinger. the verse and prose of a few scenes[ ] do not preclude the possibility of beaumont's coöperation; but i find in them no vestige of his faith in sweet innocence; and in only one,--the awful episode (iv, ), in which the father seeks his wanton daughter in a house of shame and would kill her,--his imaginative elevation or his dramatic creativity. footnotes: [ ] to employ in this process of separation the characteristics of fletcher's later dramatic technique as a criterion does not appear to me permissible. for these, however, the reader may consult miss hatcher's _john fletcher, a study on dramatic method_, and sections and of my essay on _the fellows and followers of shakespeare_, part two, _rep. eng. com._, vol. iii, now in press. the technique is more likely to change than the versification, the style, the mental habit. its later characteristics may, some of them, have been derived from the association with beaumont; or they may be of fletcher's maturer development under different influences and conditions. it is fair to cite them as corroborative evidence in the process of separation, only when they are in continuance of fletcher's earlier idiosyncrasy. i have, also, refrained from complicating the present discussion by analysis of the style of massinger, for which see fleay, _n. s. s. trans._, , _shakesp. manual_, , _engl. studien_, - , and _chron. eng. dram._, ; boyle, _engl. studien_, - , and _n. s. s. trans._, ; macaulay, _francis beaumont_, ; oliphant, _engl. studien_, - ; thorndike, _infl. of b. and f._, ; and section of my essay mentioned above. there is no proof of massinger's dramatic activity before july , nor of his coöperation with fletcher until after that date, _i. e._, after beaumont's virtual cessation. he may have revised some of beaumont's lines and scenes; but beaumont's style is too well defined to be confused with that of massinger or of any other reviser; or of an imitator, such as field. [ ] see thorndike, _infl. of b. and f._, p. , for discussion and authorities. [ ] chapter vi. [ ] it was not printed till ; but had been acted long before. [ ] ii, , ; iii, , , ; v, . [ ] iv, ; v, , , . chapter xxiv "the woman-hater," and "the knight" four.--_the woman-hater_ was entered in the stationers' registers, may , , and published in quarto (twice, with but slight variation) the same year "as lately acted by the children of paules." of the date of composition, probably the spring of , i have written in chapter vi, above. there is no indication of authorship in either quarto; but the prologue assigns it to a single author--"he that made this play." the quarto of prints it as "by j. fletcher gent."; that of , as by beaumont and fletcher. the prologue of , however, written by d'avenant for an undated revival of the play and addressed to the ladies, definitely ascribes the authorship to one "poet," who "to the stars your sex did raise; for which, full twenty years he wore the bays." the "twenty years" can apply only to fletcher. in the lines which follow, d'avenant has been supposed to credit the same author with the whole of _the maides tragedy_, _philaster_, and _a king and no king_ as well: 't was he reduc'd evadne from her scorn, and taught the sad aspatia how to mourn; gave arethusa's love a glad relief; and made panthea elegant in grief. we now know, from the application of metrical and rhetorical tests, that but a small part of each of the plays here alluded to was written by fletcher. if d'avenant has attributed to fletcher in these cases plays of which the larger part was written by beaumont, he was but consistent in error when he ascribed to fletcher _the woman-hater_, in which there is very little that betrays resemblance to fletcher's style. if, on the other hand, d'avenant in the verses quoted above intended to attribute to fletcher merely individual scenes of _the maides tragedy_, etc., he must have had a knowledge of the respective authorship of the dramatists hardly to be reconciled with the palpable mistake of assigning _the woman-hater_ to fletcher. for, by an odd coincidence, he has indicated in the first and second verses two[ ] of the five scenes of _the maides tragedy_, and in the third, two[ ] of the five scenes of _philaster_ which our modern criticism has proved to be fletcher's. the reference in the fourth line is more vague; but it has the merit of indicating the only scene of _a king and no king_[ ] in which, according to our critical tests, fletcher has contributed to the characterization of panthea. with regard to _the woman-hater_, it would appear that d'avenant was carelessly following the mistaken ascription of authorship on the title-page of the quarto of . fleay, boyle, macaulay, and ward, with but slight hesitation, pronounce _the woman-hater_ to be an independent production of beaumont, written while he was under the influence of ben jonson; but as i shall presently show, fletcher has revised a few scenes. oliphant feels inclined to join the critics mentioned above, but cannot blind himself "to the presence of fletcher in a couple of scenes." one of these is iii, .[ ] in the quartos this scene is divided into two. by the _ye_ test the first half-scene, running to _enter duke, etc._, in which oriana tempts gondarino, would be fletcher's ( _ye's_ to _you's_); but the percentage of double endings is too low, and that of run-on lines too high for him. i think that he is revising beaumont's original sketch. the second half-scene and the rest of the act are, by the _ye_ test and all other criteria, beaumont's. the metrical style of the act as a whole is beaumont's; so also the enclitic 'do's' and 'did's,' the beaumontesque 'basilisk,' 'dissemble,' the mock-heroic prayers, and mock-legal nicety of enumeration, the racy ironic prose, and the burlesque shakespearian echoes--"that pleasing piece of frailty that we call woman," etc. the other passage doubtfully assigned to fletcher, by oliphant--forty lines following _enter ladies_ in v, (dyce)--more closely resembles his manner of verse, but is not markedly of his rhetorical stamp. but by the _ye_ test ( _ye's_ to _you's_) the whole of that scene, opening _enter arigo and oriana_ is fletcher's, or fletcher's revision of beaumont. so, also, by the _ye_ test is another scene not before ascribed to fletcher, iv, ( _ye's_ to _you's_), as far as _enter oriana and her waiting-woman_. in this and the other _ye_ scenes, the _ye_ frequently occurs in the objective,--which is absolute fletcher. the rest of this scene, constituting two in the quartos, is pure beaumont.--the play is, so far as we can determine, beaumont's earliest attempt at dramatic production. fletcher touched it up, and his revision shows in the scenes mentioned above; that is to say, in about sixteen out of the seventy pages as printed in the _cambridge english classics_. the manifestly exaggerated torments of gondarino "who will be a scourge to all females in his life," the amorous affectation of oriana, the "stratagems and ambuscadoes" of the hungry courtier in his pursuit of "the chaste virgin-head" of a fish, the zealous stupidity of the intelligencers are, as we have already noted, of the humours school; and the work is that of a beginner. but the "humours" are flavoured with beaumont's humanity; the mirth is his, genuine and rollicking. the satire is concrete; and the play as a whole, a promising precursor of the purple-flowered prickly pear, next to be considered,--also undoubtedly beaumont's. .--evidence, both external and internal, points to the production of _the knight of the burning pestle_ between july , and some time in march . since the first quarto ( ) is anonymous, our earliest indication of authorship is that of the title-pages of the second and third ( ), which ascribe the play to beaumont and fletcher; and our next, the cockpit list of where it is included in a sequence of five plays in which one or both had a hand. the dedication of the first quarto speaks in one place of the "parents" of the play, and in others of its "father"; and the address prefixed to the second quarto speaks of the "author." critics when relying upon verse-tests think that they trace the hand of fletcher in several scenes.[ ] but in those scenes, even when the double-endings might indicate fletcher, the frequency of rhymes, masculine and feminine, is altogether above his usage; the number of end-stopped lines is ordinarily below it; and the diction, save in one or two brief passages,[ ] is his neither in vocabulary nor rhetorical device. the verse is singularly free from alliteration; and the prose, in which over a third of the play is written, displays that characteristic of fletcher in only one speech,[ ] and, there, with ludicrous intent. though, on the other hand, the verse is in many respects different from that which beaumont employed in his more stereotyped drama, it displays in several passages his acknowledged peculiarity in conjunction with a diction and manner of thought undoubtedly his. the prose is generally of a piece with that of his other comic writing, as in _the woman-hater_ more especially; and the scenes of low life and the conversation are coloured by his rhetoric as we know them in _philaster_, _a king and no king_, and _the coxcombe_. of the portrayal of humours, mock-heroic and burlesque, the same statements hold true. the verse of jasper's soliloquy:[ ] now, fortune, if thou beest not onely ill, shew me thy better face, and bring about my desperate wheele, that i may clime at length and stand,-- is in the usual manner of beaumont. luce's lament, beginning:[ ] thou that art the end of all, and the sweete rest of all come, come, ô, death! bring me to thy peace, and blot out all the memory i nourish both of my father and my cruell friend,-- and ending: how happy had i bene, if, being borne, my grave had bene my cradle! has both the diction and the point of view of beaumont; and its verse has not more of the double-endings than he sometimes uses. the subject and the mock-heroic purpose do not call for his usual dramatic vocabulary: but we recognize his 'dissemble,' his 'carduus' and 'phlebotomy' (compare _philaster_), his 'eyes shoot me through,' his 'do's.' we recognize him in the frequent appeals to chance and fortune, in the sensational determination of jasper to test luce's devotion at the point of the sword, and in the series of sensational complications and dénouements which conclude the romantic plot. in short, i agree with the critics[ ] who attribute the play, wholly or chiefly, to beaumont. fletcher may have inserted a few verses here and there; but there is nothing in sentiment, phrase, or artifice, to prove that he did. the diversity of metrical forms is but an evidence of the ingenuity of beaumont. he has used blank verse with frequent double-endings to distinguish the romantic characters and plot: as in the scenes between venturewell and jasper, jasper and luce. he has used the heroic couplet with rhymes, single and double, to distinguish the mock-romantic of venturewell and humphrey, humphrey and luce. for the mock-heroic of ralph he has used the swelling ten-syllabled blank verse of marlowe and kyd, or the prose of _amadis_ and _palmerin_; for his burlesque of the maylord he has used the senarii of the antiquated interlude. for the conversation of the merrythoughts and of the citizen-critics he has used plain prose; and for the tuneful ecstasies of merrythought senior, a sheaf of ballads. this consideration alone,--that the metrical and prose forms are chosen with a view to the various purposes of the play,--should convince the reader of the vanity of assigning to fletcher verse which evidently had its origin not in any of his proclivities, but in the temper of beaumont's venturewell, jasper, and luce. _the knight of the burning pestle_ was written and first acted between june , and april , . the upper limit is fixed, as boyle has indicated,[ ] by the mention, in act iv, , , of an incident in _the travails of three english brothers_, "let the sophy of persia come and christen him a childe," concerning which the 'boy' remarks, i, - , "that will not do so well; 'tis stale; it has been had before at the red bull." the red bull, clerkenwell, had been occupied by queen anne's men (whose plays beaumont is especially ridiculing), since .[ ] _the travails_ was written hurriedly by day, rowley, and wilkins after the appearance, june , , of a tract by nixon, on the adventures of the three shirleys, and was performed june , by the queen's men.[ ] _the travails_ dealt with a matter of ephemeral interest, and would not long have held the public. it is, therefore, likely that the allusion to it in _the knight of the burning pestle_ was written shortly after june . since the play, according to its first publisher, took eight days to write, we cannot assign any date earlier than, say, july , , for its first performance. the lower limit is determined by the certainty that _the knight_ was played by the queen's revels' children at blackfriars; and that they ceased to act there as an independent company some time in march . the play belonged in to beeston's boys, who had it with four others of beaumont and fletcher from queen henrietta's men. none of these five plays had ever been played by the king's company; it is likely that they had come to the queen henrietta's from the lady elizabeth's men with whom the queen's revels' children had been amalgamated in .[ ] one of these plays, _cupid's revenge_, had certainly come down from the queen's revels' boys in that way. that the original performance was by a company of children appears from numerous passages in the text; and the only other children's company available for consideration between and , when the manuscript fell into the publisher's hands, is that of the paul's boys. that the paul's boys were not the company performing is shown, however, by a passage in the _induction_, where the citizen-critic, interrupting the prologue of the "good-man boy," says: "this seven yeares [that] there hath beene playes at this house, i have observed it, you have still girds at citizens." now, at no date between the summer of and could it have been said of the children of paul's that they had been acting seven years continuously at any one "house." the career of the paul's boys as actors at their cathedral school had ended in the summer of , when robert keysar, rossiter, and others interested in the rival company of the queen's revels' children had subsidized edward pierce, the manager of the paul's boys, to cease plays at st. paul's.[ ] if between that date and they acted, it was elsewhere, at whitefriars perhaps, and temporarily (not after ), and as the i king's revels' children.[ ] the citizen-critic, therefore, if speaking after the summer of , could not have referred to paul's boys. if speaking of paul's boys between and , the only "house" that he can have had in mind would be their school of st. paul's cathedral; and to say that there had been plays there for _seven_ years would have been utterly pointless, for the paul's boys had been acting in their school, or in its courtyard, for twenty, one might say fifty years, more or less continuously. fleay conjectures wildly that they had occupied whitefriars between and , but that does not explain the "seven yeares at this house"; to say nothing of the fact that such occupancy is unproved. an old whitefriars inn-yard playhouse had been "pulled down" in - . no other whitefriars theatre existed till , when a new whitefriars "was occupied by six equal sharers with original title from lord buckhurst."[ ] the company was not that of st. paul's; and the "house" was not a school-house, but a regularly constituted theatre. now, the only theatre, public or private, that, at any rate between and , had been occupied by a boys' company for "this seven yeares" was blackfriars; and of blackfriars the statement could be made only at a date preceding january , , and with reference to the queen's revels' children. on that date, as reorganized under rossiter, keysar, and others, they received a patent authorizing them to open at whitefriars, "or in any other convenient place." for about a month before, they had filled an engagement at blackfriars, the lease of which had reverted on august , to burbadge and shakespeare's company of the king's players. they had ceased playing at blackfriars as an independent company in march ; the theatre had been tenantless after that for six months and then had been closed until december , , because of the prevalence of the plague. the citizen's complaint that the boys have been girding at citizens "this seven yeares there hath been playes at this house" would lose all cogency if spoken of the queen's revels' children when they were acting during the month following december , , both because plays had been then intermitted for the twenty months preceding, and because in it was not seven but twelve years since the boys had begun their occupancy of "this house." it could not apply to the seven years between , when they first occupied blackfriars, and , because _the knight of the burning pestle_ was not written till after the _travails of three english brothers_ appeared, june , . but it does apply, with all requisite dramatic and chronological accuracy, to the seven years preceding the last date,--or the date in march , when, because of their scandalous representation of the king of france and his mistress in chapman's _tragedie of charles, duke of byron_, and because of plays caricaturing and vilifying king james, the queen's revels' children were prohibited from playing, their principal actors thrown into prison, and blackfriars suppressed. on september , , richard burbadge had let blackfriars on a twenty-one-year lease to henry evans, the manager of the queen's revels' children, and under the organization of that date they had by - been giving plays exactly "this seven yeares at this house." we are, as i have said, informed by the publisher of _the knight_ that the play was written in eight days. it might have been staged in two or three. if the plague regulations were enforced during - , as i have no doubt they were, _the knight_ was acted between july and , , or between december , and the biron day in march . the internal evidence is all confirmatory of this period of composition. the queen anne's men of the "red bull" mentioned in the play obtained their title to the red bull from aaron holland about . the songs in the play were common property between and ; none of the romances ridiculed is of a later date than ; and of the eight plays mentioned or alluded to, all had been acted before june but _the travails_; and that was played for the first time june of that year. the allusions to external history such as that in act iv, ii, , to the prince of moldavia--who left london in november --and the humorous jibe at the pretty paul's boys of mr. mulcaster, who ceased teaching them in , are all for - .[ ] fleay marshals an applausive gallery of conjectures for his conjecture of , but none of them appears to me to have any substance; and in view of what has been said, and of what will follow, i may dispense with their consideration. the history of the manuscript is, as has not been noted before, also confirmatory of the - date. the robert keysar who rescued the play from "perpetuall oblivion" after its failure upon the stage (as burre says in the dedication of the first quarto) and who "afterwards" (in - ) turned it over, "yet an infant" (_i. e._ unpublished) and "somewhat ragged," to burre for publication, is the same "mr. keysar" who in february , with "mr. kendall," also of the blackfriars' management, had been paid for "apparrell" furnished for a performance given by the children of westminster school.[ ] he at no period had any connection with the paul's boys. he was, as professor wallace informs us, a london goldsmith who "about this time ( - ) acquired an interest in the shifting fortunes of blackfriars, and became the financial backer of the queen's revels' children. he had cause to dislike king james for oppression in wresting money from the goldsmiths."[ ] hence probably the attacks of the queen's revels' children upon the king, which helped to bring about their suppression at blackfriars in . keysar would inevitably know all about the plays performed by his children, _the knight of the burning pestle_ among the rest, during the last year of their occupancy of blackfriars. and since, according to burre, he appreciated the merits of _the knight_ it was but natural that he, and not some person unconnected with the company, should have preserved the manuscript,--perhaps with a view to having the children try the play again after they should re-open at whitefriars. with rossiter, soon after march , he was making preparations for such a reorganization. when finally they did re-open at their new theatre, in january , they evidently did not take up the play. somewhat later, say , keysar sent the manuscript to burre for publication. burre "fostred it privately in his bosome these two yeares" and brought it out in . the conclusion of burre's dedicatory address to keysar in the first quarto, of , has unnecessarily complicated both the question of the date of composition and that of the source of _the knight of the burning pestle_. "perhaps," says he, "it [_the knight_] will be thought to bee of the race of don quixote: we both may confidently sweare, it is his elder above a yeare; and therefore may (by vertue of his birth-right) challenge the wall of him. i doubt not but they will meet in their adventures, and i hope the breaking of one staffe will make them friends; and perhaps they will combine themselves, and travell through the world to seeke their adventures." this denial of indebtedness to cervantes has been generally taken to refer to shelton's english translation of don quixote, entered s. r. january , - , and printed ; and it has, therefore, been supposed by many that _the knight_ was written and first acted in or . but if burre was dating _the knight_ as of or , he was ignorant of the fact, as established above, that the play was the elder of shelton's printed _don quixote_, not merely "above a yeare," but above four years. there are only two other constructions to be placed upon burre's statement: either that the play was the elder above a year of the first part of _don quixote_, issued in the spanish by cervantes in ,[ ] or that it was the elder above a year of shelton's translation as circulated among his friends in manuscript, at any rate as early as . if burre was dating the play, according to the former interpretation, as of , he was ignorant of the fact that it could not have been written till after the appearance of _the travails of three english brothers_, june , . the latter interpretation would, if we could adopt it as his understanding of the matter, not only comport with the date of the production of _the knight_ in - , but also, somewhat roughly, with his own statement that he had had the manuscript already in a battered condition in his "bosome" since or . if burre, who was not a litterateur, did not know that shelton's translation of _don quixote_ had been going the rounds for years before it was printed in , everybody else did. shelton had announced as much in his _epistle dedicatorie_ to theophilus, lord howard of walden, prefixed to the first quarto of . he translated the book, as he says, "some five or six yeares agoe"--that would be in , for he used the brussels reprint of that year as his text,--"out of the spanish tongue into the english in the space of forty daies: being thereunto more than half enforced through the importunitie of a very deere friende, that was desirous to understand the subject. after i had given him once a view thereof, i cast it aside, where it lay long time neglected in a corner, and so little regarded by me as i never once set hand to review or correct the same. since when, at the entreatie of others my friends, i was content to let it come to light, conditionally that some one or other would peruse and amend the errours escaped"--because he had not time to revise it himself. in other words, shelton had shown the manuscript translation of _don quixote_ to but one friend in ; and it was not till "long time" had elapsed that he began to circulate it among his other friends on condition that they should correct its errors. the date of circulation was, probably, about , for in that year we have our earliest mention of the reading of _don quixote_ by an englishman,--by a dramatic character, to be sure, but a character created by ben jonson. in his _epicoene_, acted in , and written the year preceding, that dramatist makes truewit advise the young sir dauphine to cease living in his chamber "a month together upon _amadis de gaule_, or _don quixote_, as you are wont." there is no ascription of spanish to dauphine, who is a typical london gallant. he would read _amadis_ in the french, or the english translation; and the only translation of _don quixote_ accessible to him in would be shelton's manuscript of part one.[ ] jonson may himself have been one of the friends to whom shelton submitted the translation. there is no reason to believe that jonson had read cervantes in the original; for, as professor rudolph schevill has conclusively demonstrated,[ ] his knowledge of spanish was extremely limited. "the spanish phrases pronounced by the improvised 'hidalgo' in the _alchemist_ (of ) prove nothing." they were caught, as professor schevill says, from the london vogue or may have been supplied by some spanish acquaintance. indeed, one may even doubt whether if he read shelton's manuscript jonson did so with any care, for not only in _the alchemist_ but elsewhere he uniformly couples don quixote as if a character of chivalric romance with amadis, of whom and his congeners don quixote is a burlesque. as to burre, however, i do not think that he had been informed by keysar of the exact provenience of the manuscript of _the knight_, or of the date of first acting. i incline to believe that he had the _epistle dedicatorie_ of the newly printed shelton before him when, in , he wrote his dedication of _the knight_ to robert keysar; for he runs the figure of the book as a "child" and of its "father" and "step-father" through his screed as shelton had run it in ; and he hits upon a similar diction of "bosome" and "oblivion." but, though he may have been gratuitously challenging the wall of shelton's newly printed _don quixote_ in favour of _the knight_ as in existence by or , the only interpretation of his "elder above a yeare" that would fit the fact is afforded by the composition of the play, as already demonstrated, in - , more than a year before shelton began to circulate his manuscript. in spite of burre's assertion of the priority of _the knight of the burning pestle_, nearly every editor or historian who has touched upon _the knight_ informs us that it is "undoubtedly derived from _don quixote_." if (as i am sure was not the case) the play was written after , beaumont, or beaumont and fletcher, could have derived suggestions for it from shelton's manuscript, first circulated in . that beaumont, at any rate, was acquainted with the spanish hero by , appears from his familiarity with the _epicoene_ in which as we have observed, don quixote is mentioned; for he wrote commendatory verses for the quarto of that play, entered s. r. september of that year. if, on the other hand, _the knight_, as i hold, was written in or , the author or authors, provided they read spanish, could have derived suggestions from cervantes' original of ; or if they did not read spanish, from hearsay. the latter source of information would be the more likely, for although sixteen of the ignorantly so-called "beaumont and fletcher" plays have been traced to plots in spanish originals, there is not one of those plots which either of the poets might not have derived from english or french translation; and in none of the sixteen plays is there any evidence that either of the dramatists had a reading knowledge of spanish.[ ] as to the possibility of information by hearsay, other dramatists allude to _don quixote_ as early as - ;[ ] and, indeed, it would be virtually impossible that any literary londoner could have escaped the oral tradition of so popular and impressive a masterpiece two years after its publication. all this supposition of derivation from _don quixote_ is, however, so far as verbal indebtedness goes, or indebtedness for _motifs_, episodes, incidents and their sequence, characters, machinery, dramatic construction, manners, sentiments, and methods of satire, a phantom caught out of the clear sky. so far as the satire upon the contemporary literature of chivalry is concerned, when the ridicule is not of english stuff unknown to cervantes it is of spanish material translated into english and already satirized by englishmen before cervantes wrote his _don quixote_. an examination of _the knight_ and of the _don_ in any version, and of contemporary english literature, reveals incontestibly not only that the material satirized, the phrases and ideas, come from works in english, but that even the method of the satire is derived from that of preceding english dramatic burlesque rather than from that of cervantes. the title of the play was suggested by _the knight of the burning sword_, an english translation, current long before , of the spanish _amadis of greece, prince and knight of the burning sword_. ten full years before falstaff had dubbed his red-nosed bardolph "knight of the burning lamp." the farcical, but eminently sane, grocer's apprentice, turned knight for fun, grows out of heywood's _foure prentises_, and day and wilkins's _travails_, and the english _palmerins_, etc. he has absolutely nothing in common with the glorious but pathetically unbalanced _don_ of cervantes. nor is there any resemblance between ralph's palmerin-born squire and dwarf--and that embodiment of commonsense, sancho panza.[ ] the specific conception of _the knight of the burning pestle_, a satire upon the craze of london tradesmen for romances of chivalry, for "bunches of ballads and songs, all ancient," for the bombast and sensationalism of kyd's _spanish tragedy_, marlowe's _true tragedy of richard, duke of york_, even of shakespeare's hotspur, and of dramas of bourgeois knight-errantry,--a burlesque of the civic domestic virtues and military prowess of prentices and shop-keepers,--is much more applicable to the conditions and aspirations of contemporary bow-bells and the affectations of the contemporary stage than to those which begot and nourished the madness of the knight of la mancha. beaumont may have received from the success of the _don quixote_ of some impulse provocative to the writing of _the knight_, but a dramatic satire, such as _the knight_, might have occurred to him if _don quixote_ had never been written; just as that other dramatic satire upon the dramas of folk-lore romance, _the old wives tale_, had occurred to peele some fifteen years before _don quixote_ appeared; and as it had occurred to the author of _thersites_ to ridicule, upon the stage, greek tales of heroism and british worthies of knighthood and the greenwood still fifty-five years earlier. the puritan and the ritualist, the country justice and the squire, the schoolmaster and the scribbling pedant, the purveyor of marvels of forest and marsh, the knight-adventurer of ancient lore or of modern creation, the damsel distressed or enamoured of visionary castles, had, one and all, awakened laughter upon the tudor stage. the leisure wasted, and the emotion misspent, over the _morte d'arthur_ and the histories of huon of bordeaux, guy of warwick, bevis of hamptoun, or of robin hood and clim of the clough, had been deplored by many an anxious educator and essayist of the day. why was it not time and the fit occasion, in a period when city grocers and their wives would tolerate no kind of play but such as revamped the more modern tales of chivalry, or tricked tradesmen out in the factitious glory of quite recent heroes of romance,--why was it not time for an attack upon the vogue of anthony munday's translations of the now offending cycles, _amadis of gaul_, _palmerin de oliva_, _palmerin of england_, and upon the vogue of the english versions of _the mirror of knighthood_ with its culminating bathos of the _knight of the sunne and his brother rosicleer_? these had, in various instalments, befuddled the popular mind for thirty years. ben jonson already, in his _every man out of his humour_ ( ), had satirized the common affectation under the similitude of a country knight, puntarvolo, who, if not crazed, was at any rate "wholly consecrated to singularity" by reason of undue absorption of romances of chivalry, a singularity of "fashion, phrase, and gesture" of the anthony munday type and the type glassed in the _mirror of knighthood_. sir puntarvolo, who "sits a great horse" and "courts his own lady, as she were a stranger never encountered before,"--who feigns that his own house is a castle, who summons with trumpet-blast the waiting-woman to the window, and, saluting her "after some little flexure of the knee," asks for the lord of the edifice, and that the "beauties" of the "lady" may shine on this side of the building,--who "planet struck" by the "heavenly pulchritude" of his long-suffering and much bewildered poor old wife, conveys to her the information that he is a poor knight-errant pursuing through the forest a hart "escaped by enchantment," and that, wearied, he and his servant make "suit to enter" her fair abode,--sir puntarvolo, who every morning thus performs fantastic homage, what is he but a predecessor of don quixote and ralph alike, fashioned out of the materials of decadent chivalric fiction common to both? in , robert anton had burlesqued in prose and rhyme the romantic ballads of the day in his ludicrous _heroical adventures of the knight of the sea_, where "the queen of the fairies transforms a submissive and apathetic cow into a knight-errant to do her business in the world."[ ] and in , also before the appearance of cervantes' burlesque, chapman, with the collaboration of jonson and marston, had, in _eastward hoe_, satirized that other kind of knight, him of the city and by purchase, in the character of sir petronel flash; and, with him, the aspirations of romance-fed merchants' daughters who would wed knights and dwell in country-castles wrested from giants. nor had these authors failed to specify the sources of delusion, the _mirror of knighthood_, the _palmerin of england_, etc. that both beaumont and fletcher were alive, without prompting from cervantes, to the mania of chivalric emulation which obsessed the train-bands of london is attested by the bombastic talk of "rosicleer" which fletcher puts into the mouth of the city captain in _philaster_, a play that was written about two years later than _the knight_, in or . there had been musters of the city companies at mile end as early as , and again under elizabeth in , and , and , when as many as , citizens were trained there. but the muster in which ralph had been chosen "citty captaine" was evidently that of , a general muster under james i. why, then, should we suppose that it was beyond the genius of a beaumont to conceive, as peele, jonson, chapman, marston, and others had conceived, a drama which should burlesque the devotees of such romances as were the fad of the day? and to conceive it without the remotest suggestion from _don quixote_? whether beaumont read spanish or not, and there is no proof that he did read it; whether he had heard of _don quixote_ or not, and there is little doubt that he had, there is nothing in _the knight of the burning pestle_ that in any way presupposes either verbal acquaintance with, or constructive dependence upon, the burlesque of cervantes.[ ] in short, professor schevill, in the article cited above, and following him dr. murch, in an admirable introduction to his edition of _the knight_, have shown that beaumont's conception of the hero, ralph, not only is not of a piece with, but is fundamentally different from, cervantes' conception of don quixote; and they have demonstrated with a minuteness of chapter and verse that need not be recapitulated here that the motives, machinery and characters, ideas and phrases are, in so far as they have relation to romances of chivalry, drawn out of, or suggested by, the english translations already enumerated. this demonstration applies to the adoption of the squire, the rescue of mrs. merrythought, the incident of the casket, the liberation of the barber's patients, the mock-heroic love-affair, as well as to the often adduced barber's basin and the scene of the inn. of the situations, there is none that is not a logical issue of the local conditions or the presuppositions of an original plot; whereas there are, on the other hand, numerous situations in _don quixote_, capable of dramatic treatment, that the elizabethan playwright of - could hardly have refrained from annexing if he had used that story as a source. the setting or background of _the knight_, as professor schevill has said, in no way recalls that of the _don_, "and it is difficult to see how any inspiration got from cervantes should have failed to include at least a slight shadow of something which implies an acquaintance with rocinante and sancho panza." beaumont, in addition, not only satirizes, as i have said, the chivalric and bourgeois dramas of heywood, _if you know not me, you know nobody_, etc., and dramas of romantic marvel like _mucedorus_ and the _travails_, and parodies with rare humour the rant of senecan tragedy; he not only ridicules the military ardour and pomp of the london citizens, and pokes fun at their unsophisticated assumption of dramatic insight and critical instinct,--with all this satire of the main plot and of the spectator-gods in the machinery, he has combined a romantic plot of common life--jasper, luce, and humphrey,--and a comic plot of humours in which jasper's father, mother, and brother live as merrythoughts should. he has produced a whole that in drama was an innovation and in burlesque a triumph. _the knight_ was still an acting play in the last quarter of the seventeenth century. during the past thirteen years it has been acted by academic amateurs five times in america. footnotes: [ ] iv, ; and ii, . [ ] v, , . [ ] iv, . [ ] between _oriana sits down_ and _exit oriana_, as in dyce, vol. i, pp. - . [ ] i, ; i, ; ii, ; ii, ; iii, ; iv, . [ ] _e. g._, the "lets" and the "alls" of iv, , - , as numbered in alden's edition. the play is devoid of fletcherian jolts. [ ] v, , , _et seq._ [ ] ii, , . [ ] iv, , . [ ] macaulay, oliphant, bullen, and alden. [ ] _engl. studien_, ix. [ ] wallace, _shakspere's money interest in the globe, cent. maga._, aug., , p. . [ ] fleay, _chr. eng. dr._, ii, . [ ] fleay, _h. s._, p. . [ ] wallace, _shakspere and the blackfriars, century maga._, sept., , p. . [ ] murray, _eng. dram. comp._, i, , who cites nichols, _progresses_, iv, ; but whitefriars had been destined by keysar and others for the queen's revels' children since . [ ] rawlidge, _a monster lately found out_, etc., , as quoted by fleay, _h. s._, ; wallace, _cent. maga._, aug., ; and thorndike, _infl. of b. and f._, p. . [ ] see the impressive array of evidence, internal and external, presented by thorndike, _infl. of b. and f._, pp. - ; and by alden, _k. b. p._, pp. - (belles lettres series). [ ] accounts in _athenaeum_, , , . [ ] wallace, _cent. maga._, _sept._ , p. . see also greenstreet papers in fleay, _h. st._, . [ ] for this argument see _engl. studien_, xii, . [ ] baudouin's french version of is merely of the episodic narrative of _the curious impertinent_. [ ] _on the influence of spanish literature upon english_ (_romanische forschungen_, xx, - , _et seq._). [ ] of this i am assured by my colleague, professor rudolph schevill, who has made a special study of the plays and their sources, and has published some of his conclusions in the article in _romanische forschungen_, already cited; others, communicated by him to dr. h. s. murch, appear in _yale studies in english_, xxxiii, _the k. b. p._, introduction. dr. a. s. w. rosenbach's unpublished conclusions, as cited by miss hatcher, _john fletcher_, etc., , p. , are to the same effect. [ ] wilkins, _miseries of enforced marriage_, iii; middleton, _your five gallants_, iv, ; cited by schevill, _ut supra_. [ ] see schevill, _u. s._ [ ] h. v. routh, in _c. h. l._, iv, . [ ] the lines, who like don quixote do advance against a windmill our vaine lance, occur in a copy of verses _to the mutable faire_ included among _the poems of francis beaumont_ in the edition of . but the volume includes numerous poems not written by beaumont, and is one of the most uncritical collections that ever was printed. this poem is by waller. chapter xxv the five central plays six.--_the coxcombe_ was first printed in the folio of . our earliest record of its acting is of a performance at court by the children of the queen's revels in .[ ] the day was between october and . a list of the principal actors, all queen's children, preserved in the folio of , indicates, however, that this was not the first performance; for three of the actors listed had left that company by august , ; one of them (joseph taylor) perhaps before march , . the list was evidently contemporary with the first performance. the absolute upper limit of the composition was , for one of the characters speaks of the taking of ostend. if the play, as we are dogmatically informed by a credulous sequence of critics who take statements at second-hand, principally from german doctors' theses, were derived from cervantes' story, _el curioso impertinente_, which appeared in the first part of _don quixote_, printed , or (since we have no evidence that our dramatists read spanish), from baudouin's french translation which was licensed april , [ ] and may have reached england about june,--we might have a definite earlier limit of later date. but there is no resemblance between the _motif_ of cervantes' story, in which a husband out of curiosity and an impudent desire to heighten the treasure of his love would try his wife's fidelity, and that of beaumont and fletcher's play, where there is no question of a trial of honour. in beaumont and fletcher, we have a revelation of lust at first sight on the part of the husband's friend, mercury, of unnatural friendly pandering on the part of that 'natural fool' the husband, antonio, and of easy acquiescence on the part of maria, the wife, in the cuckolding of her idiotic coxcomb, who with the wool pulled over his eyes takes her back believing that she is innocent. in cervantes, the husband, sure of his wife and adoring her, urges his friend to make trial of her honour; the friend, outraged at first by the suggestion, refuses, but finally succumbs to passion and wins the wife, likewise, at first, above suspicion; and all die tragically. there is no resemblance in treatment, atmosphere, incidents, or dialogue. the only community of conception is that of a husband playing with fire--risking cuckoldom. but cervantes' character of the husband is sentimentally deluded; beaumont and fletcher's is a contemptible and willing wittol. if beaumont and fletcher derived their plot from cervantes, all that can be said is that they have mutilated and vulgarized the original out of all possibility of recognition.[ ] other english dramatists dealing with the theme of _the curious impertinent_ between and followed cervantes more or less closely in the main _motif_, in incident, and in dialogue: the author of _the second maiden's tragedy_, for instance, who made use of baudouin's translation; and nathaniel field, who used either baudouin or shelton's publication of in his _amends for ladies_. but beaumont and fletcher in their tale of a husband cuckolded and pommeled were drawing upon another source, one of the many variants of _le mari coccu, battu et content_, to be found in boccaccio and before him in old french poems, and french and italian _nouvelles_. if they derived anything from cervantes, whose theme is lifted from the _orlando furioso_, it was merely the suggestion for a fresh drama of cuckoldry. that their play was regarded by others as thus inspired appears, i think, from a passage in ben jonson's _alchemist_, iv, vii, - , where, after kastril has said to surly, "you are a pimpe, and a trig, and an amadis de gaule, or a don quixote," drugger adds, "or a knight o' the curious cox-combe, doe you see?" field and the rest, writing in or after , had uniformly referred to cervantes' cuckold as the curious impertinent. jonson wrote his _alchemist_ between july and october , , and up to that time the cuckold had been dramatized as coxcomb only by beaumont and fletcher. the prefix 'curious' indicates that in jonson's mind his friend's play is associated with cervantes' novel; and the further prefix of 'the knight' looks very much like a reminiscence of "the knight of the burning pestle," which had been played some two years before. this argument from contemporaneity of inspiration and allusion inclines me to date the upper limit of _the coxcombe_ about , after baudouin's translation _le curieux impertinent_ had reached england, and shelton's manuscript had been put in circulation. if to this conjecture we could add a precise determination of the period of joseph taylor's connection with the queen's revels' children, we should have a definite lower limit for the performance of _the coxcombe_ in which he took part. but i find it impossible to decide whether taylor had been with the queen's revels up to about march , , upon which day his name appears among the duke of york's players who were recently reorganized and had just obtained a new patent; or had been up to that time with the predecessors of the duke of york's (prince charles's) company, and had left them shortly after march for the queen's revels' children. in favour of the former alternative are ( ) that in the list of the queen's revels' actors in _the coxcombe_ he appears second to field only, as if a player of long standing with them and high in the company's esteem at the time of the performance; ( ) that he does not appear among the actors in the list for _epicoene_ which was presented first by the queen's revels' children between january and march , : field is still first, barkstead, who had been eighth on the _coxcombe_ list, appears now second, as if promoted to taylor's place, and giles carey is third in both lists; ( ) that in the march patent to the duke of york's players his name ranks only fifth, as if that of a recent acquisition. on this basis the lower limit would be march , . in favour of the latter alternative, viz., that taylor joined the queen's children from the duke of york's, at a date later than march , , are the considerations: ( ) that when the new princess elizabeth's company, formed april , , gives a bond to henslowe on august of that year, taylor's name appears with two of the queen's revels' children of march , as if all three had left the queen's revels for the new company at the same time; and ( ) that their names appear close together after that of the principal organizer as if not only actors of repute in the company which they had left but prime movers in the new organization. on this basis the lower limit for the performance of _the coxcombe_, at a time when all three were yet queen's revels' children, would be august , . consulting the restrictions necessitated by the plague rate, we have, then, an option for the date of acting: either between december , and july , , when jonson had begun his _alchemist_, or between november , and july . in the latter case ben jonson's "knight o' the curious coxcombe" would precede the performance of beaumont and fletcher's play and could not be an allusion. in the former, it would immediately follow the acting of _the coxcombe_, and would manifestly be suggested by that play. i prefer the former option; and date the acting,--on the assumption that taylor left the queen's revels by march , ,--before that date.[ ] since fletcher's contribution to the play has been mangled by a reviser it is impossible to draw conclusions as to the date of composition from the evidence of his literary style. but the characteristics of beaumont in the minor plot are those of the period in which the _letter to ben jonson_ and _philaster_ were written. the play as first performed was condemned for its length by "the ignorant multitude."[ ] i believe that it was one of the two or three unsuccessful comedies which preceded _philaster_; and, as i have said above, that it is the play referred to in the _letter to ben jonson_, toward the end of .[ ] if the date of acting was before january , , the theatre was blackfriars; if after, whitefriars. the prologue in the first folio speaks of a revision. but though the hand of one, and perhaps of another, reviser is unmistakably present, the play is properly included among beaumont and fletcher's works. in the commendatory verses of , hills and gardiner speak of the play as fletcher's, but all tests show that beaumont wrote a significant division of it,--the natural, vigorous, tender, and poetic subplot of ricardo's desertion of viola and his ultimate reclamation,--with the exception of three scenes and parts of two or three more. the exceptions are the first thirty-five lines of act i, which have been supplied by some reviser; i, , in which also the reviser appears; i, , the drinking-bout in the tavern, where some of the words (_e. g._ "claw'd") indicate fletcher,--and the gratuitous obscenity, fletcher or his reviser; and act ii, , where viola is bound by the tinkers and rescued by valerio.[ ] perhaps, also, the last thirty-six lines of act iii, , where fletcher is discernible in the afterthoughts "a likely wench, and a good wench," "a very good woman, and a gentlewoman," and the hand of a reviser in the mutilation of the verse; and certainly act iv, , where fletcher appears at his best in this play. the romantic little comedy of _ricardo and viola_ is so loosely joined with the foul portrayal of the coxcomb who succeeds in prostituting his wife to his friend, that it might be published separately and profitably as the work of beaumont.[ ] it is well constructed; and it conveys a noble tribute to the purity and constancy of woman, her grace of forgiveness, and her influence over erring man. when viola speaks she is a living person, instinct with recklessness, sweetness, and pathos. few heroines of elizabethan comedy have compressed so much reality and poetry into so narrow a compass. "might not," she whispers when stealing forth at night to meet ricardo:--[ ] might not god have made a time for envious prying folk to sleep whilst lovers met, and yet the sun have shone? and then: alas, how valiant and how fraid at once love makes a virgin! when she comes upon her lover staggering outside the tavern with his sodden comrades,[ ] with what simplicity she shudders: i never saw a drunken man before; but these i think are so.... my state is such, i know not how to think a prayer fit for me; only i could move that never maiden more might be in love! when, rescued from thieves in the country, she finds that her rescuer is even more a peril,[ ] with what childlike trust she appeals: pray you, leave me here just as you found me, a poor innocent, and heaven will bless you for it! when again deserted, with what pathos she sighs: "i'll sit me down and weep; all things have cast me from 'em but the earth. the evening comes, and every little flower droops now, as well as i!" and, finally, when she has rediscovered ricardo, and conquered his self-reproach by her forgiveness, which is "to love you," with what admirable touch of nature and delicious humour she gives verisimilitude to her story and herself:[ ] methinks i would not now, for any thing, but you _had_ mist me: i have made a story will serve to waste many a winter's fire, when we are old. i'll tell my daughters then the miseries their mother had in love, and say, "my girls, be wiser"; yet i would not have had more wit myself. ricardo, too, is a creative study in the development of personality; and the rural scenes and characters are convincing. in the main plot beaumont had no hand whatever, unless it be in the prose of the trial-scene at the end of the fifth act. the rest is fletcher's; but in a few scenes his work has been revamped, and in verse as well as style degraded by the reviser. oliphant thinks that here and there massinger may be traced;[ ] and here and there, rowley.[ ] i should be sorry to impute any of the mutilations to the former. i think that the irregular lines, trailing or curtailed, the weak endings, the finger-counted syllables, puerile accentuation, and bad grammar have much nearer kinship with the earlier output of the latter. but of whatever sins of supererogation his revisers may have been guilty, the prime offense is fletcher's--in dramatizing that story at all. to make a comedy out of cuckoldry was not foreign to the genius of the elizabethans: for the pruriency of it we can make historical allowance. but a comedy in which the wittol-hero successfully conducts the cuckolding of himself is nauseating. and that the wittol, his adulterous wife, and the fornicator should conclude the affair in mutual gratulation is, from the dramatic point of view, worse even than prurient and nauseating; it is unnatural, and therefore unsuited to artistic effect. no amount of technical ingenuity on fletcher's part could have made his contribution to this play worthy of literary criticism. though _the coxcombe_ was not successful in its first production before the "ignorant multitude," it was "in the opinion of men of worth well received and favoured." we have seen that it was played at court in in the festivities for the elector palatine's approaching marriage with the princess elizabeth. it was revived for charles i and queen henrietta in ; and it was one of the twenty-seven "old plays" presented in the city theatres after the restoration, and before . in the revivals beaumont's romantic subplot gradually assumed the dominant position, and it was finally borrowed outright for a comedy called _the fugitives_, constructed by richardson and acted by the drury lane company in . with palmer in the part of young manly (the ricardo of the original), and mrs. jordan as julia (alias beaumont's viola), the adaptation ran for a dozen nights or more. .--_philaster_ or _love lies a-bleeding_ was "divers times acted at the globe, and blacke-friers by his majesties servants." under the second title in the _scourge of folly_, entered for publication october , , davies of hereford appears to mention it; and i have already stated my reasons as based upon the history of the theatres[ ] for believing that its first performance took place between december , and july , . we might have something like confirmation of this date from the grouping of epigrams in davies of hereford's _scourge of folly_, if we could affirm that they were arranged in the order of their composition. for just before the epigram on _love lies a-bleeding_, which, i think, without doubt, applies to _philaster_, appears one _to the roscius of these times, mr. w. ostler_, saluting him as "sole king of actors." now osteler, ostler, or osler, had been one of the queen's revels' children,--most of them from thirteen to sixteen years of age at the time,--in when jonson's _poetaster_ was acted. he could not have been more than twenty-three years of age while still playing with the queen's children in ; and he would certainly not have been styled "sole king of actors" at that age. according to the supplication of cuthbert burbadge and others in the well-known suit of concerning the shares in the blackfriars theatre,[ ] before evans surrendered the lease of that theatre in , some of the queen's revels' children "growing up to bee men, which were underwood, field, ostler, were taken to strengthen the king's service; and the more to strengthen the service, the boys daily wearing out, it was considered that house would bee as fitt for ourselves [the king's company], and soe [we] purchased the lease remaining from evans with our money, and placed men players, which were hemings, condell, shakespeare, etc." on the face of it this deposition places the transference of underwood, field, and ostler to the king's company between the beginning of april when the revels' children were temporarily suppressed and august of that year when the burbadges, shakespeare, hemings, and others took over evans's unexpired lease of blackfriars with a view to occupying it themselves. but the deposition of cuthbert burbadge was not made till twenty-seven years after the occurrence described; and is not to be trusted as a statement of the sequence of events. the boys may have acted temporarily with, or under the supervision of, the king's company at blackfriars between december , and january , ; but one of them, field, is at the head of the new queen's revels at whitefriars by march , , and does not appear in the lists of the king's men till ; and there is no record of underwood and ostler as members of the latter company before the end of , when they acted in jonson's _alchemist_ (after october ). since underwood and ostler were not with the new queen's revels after january of that year, it is probable that davies's epigram to the latter as "the roscius of these times" in the _scourge of folly_, entered for publication on october , , was written after ostler had attained distinction in shakespeare's company, the company of the leading actors of the day, and that the grouping of the epigram to ostler with that of the epigram to fletcher on _philaster_ presented by that company indicates contemporaneity in the composition of the epigrams,--that is to say, between january and october, . since, however, the epigrams in _the scourge of folly_, though frequently arranged by groups, sometimes of mental association, sometimes of contemporaneous composition, do not follow a continuous chronological order, the juxtaposition of these two epigrams cannot be regarded as more than a feather's evidence to the direction of the wind. of much greater weight as confirming the date of _philaster_, as conjectured above, is its resemblance to shakespeare's _cymbeline_ not only in general features of background and atmosphere, plot, typical characters, romantic motive, situations, and style, but also in specific detail. i shall presently attempt to show at greater length that there is nothing in the _philaster_ or the _cymbeline_ to indicate the priority of the former. but i must at the risk of anticipating indicate in this place though briefly the argument of a later chapter.[ ] for the _cymbeline_, i accept the date assigned by the majority of critics, . shakespeare had had the character of imogen (or innogen) in mind since he first introduced her, years before, as a silent personage in _much ado about nothing_ (the quarto of ). in execution the play is, with _the winter's tale_ and the _tempest_, the dramatic sequel of that first of his "dramatic romances,"--of which the leading conception is the loss and recovery of a wife or child,--the _pericles_ written in or . and since already in _pericles_, shakespeare had blazed this new path, i cannot for a moment accept the hypothesis that he is in his _cymbeline_ borrowing profusely from _philaster_, a work of comparatively unestablished dramatists who had but recently been admitted to authorship for the company of which shakespeare had been for eighteen years the principal, almost the only, playwright. it is much more according to human probability that the younger dramatists, since about the beginning of associated with the king's company and its enterprises, should have adapted their technical and poetic style of construction to the somewhat novel--to them entirely novel--method of the seasoned playwright of the king's servants, as tried and approved in _pericles_ and _cymbeline_. and still the more so when one reflects that, in _pericles_ and _cymbeline_, aside from the leading conception, everything of major or minor detail had been already anticipated by shakespeare himself in earlier romantic comedies from _the two gentlemen of verona_ to _as you like it_ and _twelfth night_; and that there is no salient characteristic of dramatic construction in _philaster_, otherwise original and poetically impressive as it is, which a study of those earlier comedies and of the _pericles_ and _cymbeline_ would not suggest. i, therefore, rest with some assurance upon the conviction that _philaster_ was first acted by the king's company, soon after beaumont and fletcher began to write for it, say between december and july . the play was first published in a quarto of which ascribes it, as does the vastly improved quarto of , to beaumont and fletcher. in his epigram, addressed somewhat before october , to "the well-deserving mr. john fletcher," john davies appears to give that author credit for practically the whole work,--"thou ... raign'st in arte, judgement, and invention," and adds a compliment for "thine as faire as faithfull sheepheardesse." herrick, writing for the folio of , mentions _love lies a-bleeding_ among fletcher's "incomparable plays"; and thomas stanley seems to ascribe to him definitely the scene "when first bellario bled." john earle, however, writing "on master beaumont, presently after his death" comes nearer the truth when he says: alas, what flegme are they [plautus and aristophanes], compared to thee, in thy _philaster_ and _maids tragedy_! where's such an humour as thy bessus? pray ... for, with the exception of three scenes, two half-scenes and a few insertions or revisions by fletcher, _philaster_ is beaumont's (and practically the same holds true of _the maides tragedy_, and the bessus play--_a king and no king_). in _philaster_ fletcher's scenes, as proved by rhetorical tests, and by metrical when they may be applied, are i, {^_b_} (from the king's entry, line --line ,[ ]--a revision and enlargement of beaumont's original sketch), ii, {^_b_} (from _enter megra_), ii, {^_b_} (from _megra above_), v, and v, . the first part of act ii, was written by beaumont; but fletcher has inserted lines to (from _enter arethusa and bellario_ to "how brave she keeps him"). similarly, the first draught of act iii, was beaumont's; certainly lines - (exit king), - (the opening of philaster's long tirade) and - (from philaster's exit to end). but beginning with arethusa's soliloquy, line , we find insertions marked by fletcher's metrical characteristics, his alliterations, favourite words and ideas, tautological expansions, repetitions, interrogations, triplets, redundant "alls" and "hows." the last three lines of that soliloquy are his: soul-sick with poison, strike the monuments where noble names lie sleeping, till they sweat and the cold marble melt;[ ] and he has overlaid (in lines - ) with his rhetorical triplets, his "alls" and "hows" the genuine poetry of philaster's accusation of arethusa. "the _story_ of a woman's face," her inconstancy, the shadow quality even of her "goodness" soon past and forgotten,--"these sad texts"[ ] fletcher "to his last hour" is never weary of repeating. it will be observed that, in general, fletcher's scenes are elaborative, bombastic, verbally witty, conversationally easy, at times bustling, at times spectacular, but not vitally contributory to the business of the play. they comprise the longest speeches of the king, pharamond, philaster, megra, and bellario. some of these, such as the king's denunciation of megra and her reply are wild, whirling, and vulgar rhetoric. the bawdy half-scene with its maid of easy honour is his; the discovery of the low intrigue, the simulated masque and the mob-scene are his. they may display, but they do not develop, characters. they are sometimes fanciful; sometimes gracefully poetic as in v, , - , where his "all your better deeds shall be in water writ, but this in marble" anticipates keats's famous epitaph; sometimes realistic; but they lack the pervading emotion, imagination, elevation of beaumont. the play, in fact, is not only preponderatingly but primarily beaumont's, from the excellent exposition in the first act to the series of sensational surprises which precede the dénouement in the fifth. the conception of the characters and the complication are distinctive of that writer's plots: the impulsive, misjudged, and misguided hero, his violence toward the love-lorn maiden disguised as a page, and his unwarranted suspicion of the honour of his mistress. the subtle revelations of personality are beaumont's: the simplicity, self-renunciation, lyric pathos and beauty of bellario, the nobler aspects of dion, the maidenly audacities, sweet bewilderments and unmerited tribulations of arethusa, the combination of idyllic, pathetic, and romantic, the visualization, the naturalness of figure and setting, the vigour of dramatic progress, the passion, the philosophical insights, and the memorable lines. his, too, the humour of the rural sketches--the country fellow who has "seen something yet," the occasional frank animality, as well as the tender beauty of innocence. not only are the virtues of the play beaumont's but some of its faults of conception and construction; and those faults are the unmanly suspicious startings of the hero and his melodramatic violence, the somewhat fortuitous succession of the crises, and the subordination of bellario in the dénouement. the popularity of _philaster_ as an acting play, not only at court but in the city, is attested by contemporary record. it was played after the restoration with success; and between and it enjoyed thirteen revivals,--the last at bath on december of the latter year, with ward in the title-rôle and miss jarmin as bellario.[ ] .--_the maides tragedy_, acted by the king's men during the festivities at court, october to march , was known to sir george buc when, october , , he licensed an anonymous play as "this second maiden's tragedy." it was acted by the king's also at blackfriars; and since it is in every way a more mature production than _philaster_, i think that it followed that play, toward the end of or in . it was first published in , in quarto and anonymously. the quarto of is also anonymous; that of gives the names of beaumont and fletcher as authors. in the commendatory verses to the folio of , henry howard ascribes the scene of amintor's suicide to fletcher; waller assigns to him "brave melantius in his gallantry" and "aspatia weeping in her gown"; stanley, too, gives him the weeping aspatia; and herrick, "evadne swelling with brave rage." these descriptions are as misleading as blind. d'avenant comes nearer the mark in his prologue to _the woman-hater_, already quoted, where he indicates correctly an evadne scene and an aspatia scene as of fletcher's composition. metrical tests, corrected by the rhetorical, show that fletcher's contributions are limited to three scenes and two half-scenes. the list opens with those to which d'avenant alludes: ii, , in which fletcher "taught the sad aspatia how to mourn," and iv, (as far as line , "prithee, do not mock me"), in which he "reduced evadne from her scorn"; and it includes, also, the ten lines of v, , the larger part of v, (to _exit evadne_), and the perfunctory v, . as to fletcher's authorship of ii, no doubt can be entertained. it is an admirable example of his double endings (almost per cent), his end-stopped lines ( per cent), anapæstic rhythms and jolts, as well as of his vocabulary, his favourite figures and his incremental second thoughts. i fail to see how any critic can assign it to beaumont.[ ] as frequently with fletcher, aspatia's mourning, though beautiful, is a falsetto from the classics; more like one of rossetti's or leigh hunt's poetic descriptions of a picture than a first-hand reproduction of nature and passion. there is likewise no doubt concerning the authorship of the first part of act iv, (lines - ), in which melantius convinces evadne of sin and drives her to vengeance upon the king. the latter part of the scene, also, appears to have been written by fletcher in the first instance, and to have consisted of the first six speeches after the entrance of amintor (lines - ), evadne's "i have done nothing good to win belief" ( - , - ), and the conclusion ( - ). but between amintor's supplication "prithee do not mock me" (line ) and evadne's assertion of sincerity "i have done nothing good to win belief" (line [ ]), beaumont has inserted four speeches that of themselves convert a colloquy otherwise histrionic and mechanical into one of the tenderest passages of the play. in evadne's "my whole life is so leprous it infects all my repentance"--"that slight contrition"--"give me your griefs; you are an innocent, a soul as white as heaven"--"shoot your light into me"--"dissembling with my tears"--"cut from man's remembrance," we hear the words, phrases, and figures of beaumont; and we trace him in the repeated use of "do." we find him in amintor's "seed of virtue left to shoot up"--"put a thousand sorrows off"--"that dull calamity"--"that strange misbelief"--and in mock not _the powers above_ that can and dare give thee a great example of their justice to all ensuing ages.[ ] and in five verses of evadne's succeeding asseveration of sincere reform ( - ), we are thrilled by his sudden magic and his poetic finality: _those short days i shall number to my rest_ (as many must not see me) shall, though too late, though in my evening, yet perceive a will,-- since i can do no good, because a woman,-- _reach constantly at something that is near it_. the ground-work of this latter portion, from amintor's entrance, where evadne cries "oh, my lord," "my much abused lord," and he, "i may leap, like a hand-wolf, into my natural wildness" (lines - ); and the last three speeches in general with amintor's "my frozen soul melts," and "my honour falls no farther: i am well, then"; and with evadne's "tales" that "go to dust forgotten,"--the niobe weeping till she is water,--the "wash her stains away," and all the creatures made for heaven's honours, have their ends, _and good ones_,-- all but the cozening crocodiles, false women-- they reign here like those plagues, those killing sores, men pray against; ... this remainder belongs, in verse no less than in diction, to the scene as fletcher originally wrote it. when to these two scenes we add the first and third of act v, which are of no particular significance, and the second (to the death of the king), we have fletcher's whole written contribution to this wonderful tragedy. in the murder of the king he displays dramatic mastery of the grisly and shuddering; but though the scene is characterized by the same rapidity of conversational thrust and parry as the fletcherian dialogue between melantius and evadne, it is, like it, marred in effect by violence physical rather than spiritual, by brutality of vituperation and stage realism with but scant relief of subtlety. fletcher's tragic scenes excel not in portrayal of personality but in business; his contribution to aspatia is not pathos but the embroidery of grief. the volume and essential vitality are beaumont's: the cruel desertion of aspatia, her lyric self-obliteration and desperate rush on fate; the artful revelation of evadne's character, of her duplicity, her effrontery, her shamelessness; the stirrings of a soul within her, its gradual recognition of the inevitable,--that unchastity cannot be atoned even by vengeance, nor cleansed by blood,--and its true birth through love desired to love achieved in death; the bewilderment of the innocent but shuffling hero, blinded by circumstance and besotted by loyalty to the lustful author of his wrongs,--yet idealized by virgin and wanton alike; the spiritual elevation of melantius, and the conflict between honour and friendship, pride and sacrifice, which ennobles the comradeship of that blunt soldier with the deluded amintor; the pestilent king; and calianax, the poltroon whose braggadocio is part humorous and part cunning, but all helpless and hopeless. these are beaumont's; and his, too, the wealth of dramatic situation and device: the enthralling exposition, the silver sound and ecstasy of the masque in the first act; the shrewd development of motive, and the psychic revolutions of movement in the second and third acts; whatever of tenderness or of intricate complication the fourth displays--in fact, all that is not palpable violence. his, the breathless suspense and the swiftly urgent, unexpected sensations that crowd the last scene of the fifth and crown the catastrophe; and his, the gleaming epigram and the poetic finality. in his _tragedies of the last age_, licensed in , rymer attacked _the maides tragedy_ violently for its lack of unity, unnaturalness, improbability of plot, and inconsistency of delineation. perhaps, as rymer insisted, the title is a misnomer: perhaps the play might better have been called _amintor_, or the _lustful king_, or _the concubine_. but _the maides tragedy_ is a more attractive name, and it may be justified. for i do not find that the action is double-centred. it springs entirely out of amintor's desertion of the maid for a woman whom he speedily discovers to be 'bed-fellow' to the king. the pathetic devotion of aspatia is essential to our understanding of amintor's tragic weakness, his _hamartia_. his failure to act in accordance with the dictates of honour toward aspatia is prophetic of the indecision that costs him the respect of evadne, nay extinguishes that first flicker of love which then was but desire. vile as she was, she would have kissed the sin off from his lips if on their wedding-night he had unquestioningly slain the man to whom she had sold herself. the nemesis, too, of amintor is not evadne nor the king, but aspatia, thrust out of mind though not forgotten: i did that lady wrong. methinks i feel a griefe shoot suddenly through all my veins,--[ ] ... the faithless sin i made to faire aspatia is not yet revenged; it follows me.--[ ] his nemesis is aspatia, constant unto death,--and in her death, awakening such remorse that he must die to be with her: "aspatia!" he cries-- the soule is fled forever, and i wrong myselfe so long to lose her company, must i talke now? heres to be with thee, love![ ] rymer's criticism and that of a recent essayist,[ ] of "the irrelevance of the motives that beaumont employs" in the characterization and conduct of evadne have logicality of appearance, but are based upon incorrect premises. the facts, as beaumont gives them, are that evadne was "once fair" and "chastely sweet,"--before she met the king; that she was already corrupt when she took amintor as her husband; that her "delicacy of feeling" after the marriage, in presence of her ladies of the bedchamber, is an assumed delicacy; that she loves the king "with ambition not with her eyes" (iii, ); that she "would bend to any one that won his throne"; that she has accepted amintor as a screen, but speedily lusts for him, and is willing to give herself to him if he will forthright kill the king (ii, , ): wilt thou kill this man? sweare, my amintor, and i'le kisse the sin off from thy lips. but amintor is cautious and obliquely conscientious, not the kind of man to satisfy her new desire, and ambition too. he could never win her by winning the throne,--too lily-livered: "i wonnot sweare, sweet love," says he, "till i do know the cause";-- then she, with passion "i wood thou wouldst."--but she is a woman whose first behest is scorned; and with sudden revulsion of contempt for this poltroon, as she now conceives him-- why, it is _thou_ that wrongst me; i hate thee; thou shouldst have kild thy selfe. amintor has lost his evil chance. she despises him and yet, in her better moments, with a kind of pity. it follows that her prompt avowal of her liaison, and her return to the king and insulting treatment of amintor are of a piece with the corrupted nature of the woman,--a nature that she displays up to the moment of her awakening and imagined repentance. the facts are, too, that she does not, immediately after she has sworn to her brother to let the foul soul of the king out, develop (iv, ), as mr. more thinks, a "mood of sudden and overwhelming love for amintor." she merely asks his pardon: i doe appeare the same, the same evadne, drest in the shames i liv'd in, the same monster, but these are names of honour to what i _am_ ... i am hell till you, my deare lord, shoot your light into me, _the beames of your forgivenesse_. the days that she shall number to her rest are short; but she vainly imagines that, though but "one minute" remains, she may "reach constantly at something that is neare" the good. she is awakened to her husband's whiteness of soul; but she makes no profession of love, though love, this time not merely lust, be stirred in her heart. she would not "let her sins perish his noble youth." at last, in the moment of mad exaltation after the murder of the king, when she thinks that she has washed her soul clean in that blood, the poor, misguided creature struggling toward the light, but still, and consistently, enveloped in the murk of her past, comes imploring the love of the husband whom in the earlier days she had scorned. she is still the passionate evadne, who "was too foule within to looke faire then," and "was not free till now." repulsed by amintor, she dreams the one sane madness of her career,--to win his love by taking leave of life,--and kills herself. i perceive no irrelevance of motive in the conduct of evadne; even in the scenes which are not beaumont's--namely, the expostulation of her brother, and the murder of the king. nor do i find in the play as a whole what mr. more calls an "incomprehensible tangle of the passions." the defect in the construction of the _maides tragedy_, if there is one, lies in the failure of the maid and her deserter to meet between the first scene of the second act and the third of the fifth. that is not unmotived, however; it is of aspatia's own choosing and of amintor's _hamartia_. aspatia kisses him farewell, forgiving him, and saying that she "must trie some yet unpractis'd way to grieve and die." he is, forthwith, entangled in the web of his wife's adultery, his own shame and more shameful delusion of allegiance. the girl whom he has so deeply wronged passes from his distracted consciousness, save for the sense that these troubles are his punishment. and when, toward the end of the play, the maid comes in again, saying "this is my fatall houre," even we start at the remembrance that she had threatened to kill herself. and, because the scene in which she forces a duel upon amintor is spirited and pathetic, his contrition poignant, and the joy of their reunion in the moment of death deeply tragic, we feel that we have been unduly cheated of the company of this innocent and resolute and surpassingly pathetic girl. the play, with burbadge in the rôle of melantius, was popular during the lives of the authors. it was acted before the king and queen in and it held the stage until the closing of the theatres. it was revived in and . pepys saw it at least five times before the middle of may , and found it "too sad and melancholy" but still "a good play." it was popular when dryden in his _essay on dramatick poesy_, , praised its "labyrinth of design." for a time during the reign of charles ii it was proscribed, possibly because the moral was too readily applicable to the conduct of the "merry monarch"; but the play in its original form was on the stage again by . before waller made at least two attempts to change it from tragedy to tragicomedy by writing a new fifth act in which evadne was bloodlessly eliminated. in one of these sentimental absurdities the king alone survived; in another the king, preposterously reformed, succeeded in saving amintor and aspatia from suicide and joined them in marriage: but neither attempt, though made "to please the court," was crowned with success. the play enjoyed several other revivals in the first half of the eighteenth century with high popularity, notably at the haymarket in when melantius was played by betterton, evadne by mrs. barry, and aspatia by mrs. bracegirdle; and again in just before betterton's death. in theobald writes, that the famous controversy between melantius and amintor is always "received with vehement applause." in the play was acted by macready at the haymarket, with alterations by himself and three original scenes by sheridan knowles, under the name of _the bridal_, and, as dyce tells us, was very favourably received by the public.[ ] .--though the tragedy of _cupid's revenge_ was printed in as the work of fletcher alone, the publication was unauthorized, and the attribution is by a printer who acknowledges that he was not acquainted with the author. the quarto of assigns it correctly to beaumont and fletcher. the play is known to have been acted at court by her majesty's children of whitefriars, the first sunday in january ; and as usual it must have been tested by public presentation before that date. the fact that the authors were, between and , writing for the king's men does not preclude their composing a play for the queen's children. it is not, therefore, necessary to date the writing earlier than . though the critics disagree concerning the precise division of authorship in nearly every scene, finding traces of alteration by field, massinger, and others, they discern a definite substratum of both fletcher and beaumont. it is unnecessary to specify the minor scenes in which beaumont coöperated. the five which transfer the action from an atmosphere of supernatural caprice and sordid irresponsibility to the realm of character, moral struggle, pathos, or passion are by him.[ ] in these his sententious sunbursts, his verse, diction, hyperbole, portrayal by passive implication, are indubitable. the infatuation of the princess for the dwarf takes on a human interest in the grim humility and cackling mirth of the latter. the lust of leucippus is transfigured to nobility by his loyalty to oaths "bestowed on lies," by his horror of the discovered baseness of his paramour, and the piety with which he implores that she-devil to spare his father's honour: i desire you to lay what trains you will for my wish'd death, but suffer him to find his quiet grave in peace. the treacherous greed and malice of bacha are tempered by half-lights and shifting hues that make her less a vampire when beaumont depicts her. and the final scene of tragedy in the forest is shot with pathos by the "harmless innocence" of beaumont's urania following leucippus to save him for love:-- i would not let you know till i was dying; for you could not love me, my mother was so naught. but the play as a whole lacks logical and natural motive, moral vigor and vitality; and its history upon the stage is negligible. .--of the dates of _a king and no king_ there is no doubt. it was licensed in , acted at court december of the same year, and first published in quarto in as by beaumont and fletcher. in the commendatory verses of , henry howard gives arbaces to fletcher; jasper mayne gives him bessus; herrick goes further: "that high design of _king and no king_, and the rare plot thine." earle, on the other hand, gives bessus to beaumont; and lisle gives him mardonius. of the attributions to fletcher, herrick's alone has plausibility, since, like _philaster_ and _the maides tragedy_, the play is derived from no known source.[ ] still he was probably wrong. it is not impossible that one of the dramatists contrived the plot; but, considering that three-quarters of the play was written by beaumont, and that fletcher's quarter contains but one scene at once of high design and vital to the story, it is not very likely that the contriving was by fletcher unaided. modern critics display singular unanimity in their discrimination of the respective shares of the composers. with only one or two dissenting voices they attribute to beaumont the first three acts, the fourth scene of the fourth, and scenes two and four of the fifth. to fletcher they assign the first three scenes of the fourth act, and scenes one and three of the fifth. the tests which i have already described lead me to the same conclusion. beaumont's contribution is distinguished by a largeness of utterance and a poetic inevitability, a diversity and mastery of characterization, a philosophical reach, a realism both humorous and terrible, and a power of dramatic creativity and tension, equal to, if not surpassing, any parallel elements or qualities to be found in the joint-plays. arbaces, in apparent design, is of a marlowan temper, moody, vainglorious, blinded by self-love, and brooking no rebuke; but he is not merely a braggart and a tyrant, he is brave in fact, and in heart deluded by the assumption that he is also modest. the combination is beaumontesque. that dramatist rarely creates fixed or transparent character. arbaces assumes that he is single of nature and aim: an irresistible, passionless, and patient soldier; but his failure to fathom himself as his friend mardonius fathoms him, is part of his complexity. his headlong love for the woman whom he believes to be his sister and the resulting horror of apprehension and conflict of desire reveal him in many-sided dilatation and in swift-succeeding revolutions of personality. "what are thou," he asks of this devilish unexpected lust-- what are thou, that dost creep into my breast; and dar'st not see my face? when he will decree that panthea be regarded as no more his sister, and she remonstrates,--he thunders "i will hear no more"; but to himself:-- why should there be such music in a voice, and sin for me to hear it? when tigranes, to whom he has offered that sister in marriage, presumes to address her, with what majestic inconsistency the king rebukes him: the least word that she speaks is worth a life. rule your disorder'd tongue or i will temper it! and so, now struggling, now wading on in sin, till that heart-rending crisis is reached in which he confesses the incestuous love to his friend and faithful general, mardonius; nay, even tries to win the friend's support in his lustful suit, and is gloriously defeated. then follow the easy compliance of bessus with his wish, and, with equal precipitancy, the revulsion of a kingly sense of rectitude against the willing pander: thou art too wicked for my company, though i have hell within me, and mayst yet corrupt me further, the climax in which arbaces can no longer refrain is of beaumont's best: nay, you shall hear the cause in short, panthea; and when thou hear'st it, thou will blush for me and hang thy head down like a violet full of the morning's dew. and she, recoiling, "heaven forbid" and "i would rather ... in a grave sleep with my innocence," still kisses him; and then in a panic, nobler than self-suppression, cries: if you have any mercy, let me go to prison, to my death, to anything: i feel a sin growing upon my blood worse than all these! by a series of sensational _bouleversements_, and in a dramatic agony of suspense, we are keyed to the scene in which relief is granted: the princess who now is queen is no sister to the king, who is now no king. with the exception of a half-scene (act iv, {^_b_}) of somewhat bustling mechanism and rant by fletcher, the whole of the king's portrayal is beaumont's; and with the exception of eighty lines written by fletcher (act iv, ) of dramatic dialogue containing information necessary to the minor love-affair, the story of the birdlike quivering, fond panthea is, also, entirely beaumont's. the mardonius of beaumont, in the first three acts and the fifth, is a fine, honest, blunt, soldierly companion and adviser to the king; but when fletcher takes him in hand (act iv, {^_b_}), he declines to a stock character wordy with alliteration and commonplace. the bessus of beaumont whose "reputation came principally by thinking to run away" is, in acts i-iii, falstaffian or zagloban; the bessus of fletcher, in iv, and v, and , is a figure of low comedy, amusing to be sure, and reminiscent of bobadill, but a purveyor of sophomoric quips and a tool for horse-play. the rural scene with its graphic humours of the soil is beaumont's. fletcher's slight contribution to this otherwise masterly play consists, in brief, of facile dramatic dialogue, rhetorical ravings, stop-gaps complementary to the plot, and farce unrelated to it. his scenes display no spiritual insight; supply no development of character; administer no dramatic fillip to the action and no thrill to the spectator; and, exclusive of one rhetorically-coloured colloquy between the minor lovers, tigranes and spaconia, they are devoid of poetry. to beaumont, then, it may be said that we owe in the creation of _a king and no king_ one of the most intensely powerful dramas of the jacobean period, one of the most popular in the age of dryden, and one of the most influential in the development of the heroic play of the restoration. that it did not survive the eighteenth century is due not so much to the painful nature of the conflict presented as to the fact that it is "of that inferior sort of tragedies which" as dryden says "end with a prosperous event." the conflict of motives, the passions aroused, have overpassed the limits of artistic mediation. the play would better have ended in a catastrophe of undeserved suffering--that highest kind of tragedy, inevitable and inexplicable. but though this be a spoiled tragedy, it is not, as many assert, an immoral tragicomedy. that error arises from a careless reading of the text. from the first, the spectator is led to divine that the protagonists are not brother and sister. and as for the protagonists themselves,--when the king is suddenly smitten by love (iii, , - ) and rebels against its power, he does not even know that the object of his devotion is his supposed sister. when he is informed that the conquering beauty is panthea, he revolts, crying "'t is false as hell!" and when the twain are enmeshed in the strands of circumstance they cease not to recognize the liberating possibility of self-denial. in his struggle against what seems to him incestuous love, though the king does not conquer, he, still, not for a moment loses the consciousness of what is right. his deepest despair is that he is "not come so high as killing" himself rather than succumb to worse temptation; and his last word before the tragic knot is cut is of loathing for "such a strange and unbelieved affection as good men cannot think on." and when panthea feeling the "sin growing upon her blood," learns the irony of high resolve throttled by infirmity, it is still her soul, unstrangled, that cries to him whom she thinks her brother, "fly, sir, for god's sake!" _a king and no king_ evidently won favour at court, for, as we have noticed, it was acted there both in and in - . it was presented to their majesties at hampton court in . in pepys saw it twice. before nell gwynn had made panthea one of her principal rôles. in betterton played arbaces to mrs. barry's panthea. it was revived again in , , and . davies in his _dramatic miscellany_ tells us that garrick intended to revive it, taking the part of arbaces himself and giving bessus to woodward, "but it was observed that at every reading of it in the green-room garrick's pleasure suffered a visible diminution--at length he fairly gave up his design." mr. bond, in the _variorum_ edition, mentions a german adaptation of , called _ethelwolf, oder der könig kein könig_. footnotes: [ ] cited by oldys (ms. note in langbaine's _account of engl. dram. poets_, p. )--dyce. [ ] for this information i am indebted to my colleague, professor schevill. [ ] i know but two sane accounts of this matter: a. s. w. rosenbach's in _mod. lang. notes_, , column ( ); and wolfgang von wurzbach's, in _romanische forschungen_, xx, pp. - ( ). [ ] oliphant, _engl. stud._, xv, . macaulay, 'probably .' [ ] _prologue_ in the first folio. [ ] chapter vii. [ ] even here, as oliphant has said, viola's first speech "is pure beaumont." [ ] his scenes are i, , ; ii, ; iii, (to "where i may find service"); iv, , , ; v, , and the last twenty-seven lines of v, . [ ] i, . scenes as arranged in dyce, vol. iii. [ ] i, . [ ] iii, . [ ] v, . [ ] i, , {^_a_} (to antonio's entry), iii, {^_a_} (to servant's entry). [ ] iii, ; iv, ; v, , . [ ] chapter vii, above. [ ] halliwell-phillipps, _outlines of the life of shakespeare_, i, . [ ] chapter xxviii, _did the beaumont 'romance' influence shakespeare?_ [ ] lines are numbered as in the _variorum_ edition. [ ] fletcher affects this figure, _cf._ _a wife for a month_, act ii, , lines - . [ ] _cf._ his lines in _maides tragedy_, iv, , - ; in _king and no king_, iv, , - ; _philaster_, v, , ; _hum. lieut._, iv, , ; _mad lover_, iii, , ; _loyall subject_, iii, , ; iv, , ; _wife for a month_, iv, , , . [ ] the best editions of _philaster_ since the time of dyce are those of f. s. boas, in the _temple dramatists_ ( ), p. a. daniel, in the _variorum_ ( ), glover and waller, in the _camb. engl. classics_ ( ), and a. h. thorndike in _belles lettres_ ( ). [ ] thorndike, for instance,--who selects lines - as an instance of beaumont's skill in imitating natural conversation. _influence of b. and f. on shakespeare_, p. . [ ] numbering of the _variorum_. [ ] q "eies." [ ] ii, , . [ ] iii, , . [ ] v, , . [ ] p. e. more, _the nation_, n. y., april , . [ ] the best editions of _m. t._, since the time of dyce, are those of p. a. daniel, in the _variorum_ ( ), glover and waller, in the _cambridge english classics_ ( ), and a. h. thorndike, in the _belles lettres_ ( ). [ ] i, ; ii, ; iii, ; iv, ; v, . [ ] for conjectural sources see chapter vii, above. the best editions to-day are the _variorum_ and alden's (_belles lettres_). chapter xxvi the last play eleven.--the first quarto of _the scornful ladie_, entered s. r., march , , assigns the play to beaumont and fletcher, and says that it "was acted with great applause by the children of her maiesties revels in the blacke fryers." the references in act v, , , to the cleve wars show that it could not have been written before march , . the sentence, "marry some cast cleve captain," is taken by some to indicate a date as early as the spring of that year, when james i "promised to send an english force to aid the protestant party,"[ ] and when, undoubtedly, "cast" captains of the english army were clamouring for foreign service. in that case, the play was acted before january , , for by that date the children of the queen's revels had ceased playing at blackfriars. since the plague regulations closed the theatres between march and december , , save for a week in july, these arguments would fix the performance in the christmas month, december to january , . to this supposition a reference in act i, to binding the apocrypha by itself, lends plausibility, if, as fleay thinks, the sentence points to the discussion during - concerning the inclusion of the apocrypha in the douay version of the bible and its exclusion from the authorized version--both in progress at the time, and both completed in .[ ] but the apocrypha controversy was continued long after . a later date of composition than january , , is, however, indicated if a line, iii, , , to which attention has not previously been directed, in which the elder loveless says of abigail, who is acting the termagant, "tie your she-otter up, good lady folly, she stinks worse than a bear-baiting," was suggested by the termagant mrs. otter and her husband of the bear-garden, in jonson's _epicoene_, acted between january and march , . and the two sentences in which cleve is mentioned, "there will be no more talk of the cleve wars while this lasts" (v, ), and "marry some _cast cleve_ captain [so italicized in the quarto], and sell bottle-ale" (v, ), point to a date later than july , when actual fighting in cleves-juliers had barely begun. the captains are not english soldiers seeking service in a foreign army not yet mobilized, but englishmen who have been captains in cleves, have seen service, and been 'cast,' any time between july and the beginning of , when, according to the quarto, the play had assuredly been performed. these considerations make it probable that _the scornful ladie_ in its original form was presented first at whitefriars while the queen's children were acting there, between and march , or that it was one of the plays, old or new, presented by the queen's children (reorganized in ) when they opened at rossiter's new blackfriars in - . since active hostilities in cleves were temporarily suspended in - during the negotiations which led to the treaty of xanten in november of the latter year, and since there would not only be much "talk" rather than fighting at the time, but also many captains 'cast' from their regiments, the conviction grows that the play was written between and the end of . if _the scornful ladie_ had been written before march , it would undoubtedly have shared with _the coxcombe_ and _cupid's revenge_ of the same authors, then in the flush of popularity at court, the honour of presentation by the queen's revels' children during the festivities attending the marriage of the princess elizabeth; for it was always a good acting play, and it has far greater merit than _cupid's revenge_ which the children performed three times before royalty in the four months preceding the marriage. other evidence, not hitherto noticed, still further confirms the conclusion that this was one of beaumont and fletcher's later joint-productions, perhaps the last of them. the conversational style is altogether more mature than in the remaining output of their partnership. it is the first work published under both of their names, and it was licensed for publication within two weeks after beaumont's death, as one might expect of a play with which he was associated recently in the public mind. it is the only one of the joint-plays which he did not himself copy out, or thoroughly revise in manuscript, eliminating all or nearly all of fletcher's distinctive _ye's_ and _y'are's_, and reducing to uniformity the nomenclature of the _dramatis personae_. of this, later. there is also a sentence in act iii, , which points definitely to a date of composition, to . the captain speaking to morecraft, the usurer, says, "i will stile thee noble, nay don diego, i'le woo thy infanta for thee" (punctuation of the quarto). 'diego' had, of course, been for years a generic nickname for spaniards; but morecraft is neither a spaniard nor in any way associated with spaniards. there had been a don diego of malodorous memory, who had offensively "perfumed" st. paul's and on whose achievement the elizabethans never wearied ringing the changes.[ ] but that don diego was of the years before when there was, of course, no talk of wooing an infanta; and the captain here who comes to borrow money of the usurer had no intention of insulting him by likening him to the disgusting spaniard of st. paul's. the only provocation for styling morecraft's 'widow' an infanta in this scene of _the scornful ladie_ is that there was much interest in london at the time in a proposed marriage between charles, prince of wales, and the second daughter of philip iii of spain, the infanta maria. and the conjunction of the "infanta" with a "don diego" has reference to the activities of the astute don diego sarmiento de acuña who had arrived as spanish ambassador, in , "with the express object of winning james over from his alliance with france and the protestant powers."[ ] during queen anne was favouring the spanish marriage. in february , don diego sarmiento was sedulously cultivating the acquaintance of the king's powerful minion, the earl of somerset; and in may he was writing home of his success. in the latter month, the lord privy seal, northampton, was urging the marriage upon the king; and the king soon after had signified to sarmiento his willingness to accept the hand of the infanta for charles, provided philip of spain should withdraw his demand for the conversion of the young prince to catholicism. in june sarmiento was advising philip to close with james's offer. and a month or so later the spanish council of state had voted in favour of the match. negotiations, broken off for a time, were resumed a few weeks after the treaty of xanten was signed; and with varying success don diego was still pursuing his object in december . the reference in _the scornful ladie_ cannot possibly be to negotiations for the marriage of prince charles's elder brother, henry, who died in , with one or the other of king philip's daughters;[ ] as for instance in or , for the cleves wars had not then begun; or in and , for no don diego had yet arrived in england. the upper limit of the reference to don diego sarmiento's negotiations is may , . gardiner tells us, moreover, that "for some time" before diego was created count gondomar in "he had been pertinaciously begging for a title that would satisfy the world that his labours had been graciously accepted by his master." this desire to be "stiled noble" was undoubtedly known to many about the court. if beaumont and fletcher did not hear of it by common talk, they might readily have derived their information from don diego's acquaintance and beaumont's friend, sir francis bacon, attorney-general at the time, or from a devoted companion of john selden of the inner temple, sir robert cotton, the antiquary, who in april , was king james's intermediary with sarmiento. taking, accordingly, all these considerations into account in conjunction with the fact that no cleves captains had yet been 'cast' from their commands abroad before the queen's revels' children ceased playing at the old blackfriars in january , i have come to the definite conclusion that the play was written between may , and the beginning of , and first acted after the children reopened at the new blackfriars in - . the probabilities are that it was written after may or june, , perhaps, as late as april , when public attention had been startlingly awakened to don diego's personal and ambitious activity in furthering the spanish alliance by a royal marriage; and that beaumont's absence from london, probably at his wife's place in kent, or the failing condition of his health, accounts for his subordinate share in the authorship, as well as for the incomplete revision of the text--a task evidently assumed by him in the preparation of the other plays planned and produced in partnership with fletcher. [illustration: by permission of methuen & co., ltd. don diego sarmiento, count gondomar from the portrait by g. p. harding] the commendatory verses of stanley and waller in the folio give the play to fletcher; and the greater part of it is fletcher's. beaumont has contributed the vivid exposition of act i, ; act i, , with its legal phraseology and racy realism; and the jovial posset-scene of act ii, , where sir roger's kindly pedantry is developed and the minor love-affair of welford and martha is introduced.[ ] act ii, , has been given by most critics to fletcher because of the feminine endings of its occasional verse; but beaumont could use feminine endings for humorous effect, and the diction and metal habit are distinctly his. he contributed also act v, ,[ ] where the hero finally tricks his scornful mistress into submission. the _ye_ test, which i have said does not yield results in the case of other plays written by the two dramatists in collaboration, is of positive value here as confirming beaumont's authorship of act i, and and act ii, , and v, , for but a single _ye_ (ii, , l. ) is to be found in those scenes. the results are negative in act ii, and --no _ye's_--but the diction and verse are fletcher's. it is not unlikely that beaumont revised the play up to the end of act ii. with act iii, the _ye's_ are in evidence and continue to the end of the play, except in beaumont's v, . in act iii, , there are but four; but two of them are in the objective case, a mark of fletcher, not of beaumont. on the other hand though the diction and verse somewhat resemble fletcher's, the infrequency of the _ye's_ heightens the suspicion that unless the scene is fletcher's, revised imperfectly by beaumont, it is the work of some third author--perhaps, as r. w. bond,[ ] has suggested, massinger. act iii, , on the other hand, not only has several _ye's_ in the objective, but in proportion to the _you's_ twenty-five per cent of _ye's_ and _y'are's_, which approaches the distinctive habit of fletcher; and the verse, rhetorical triplets, and afterthoughts are his. in all scenes of acts iv and v, except the second of the latter, fletcher's _ye's_ occur, not in great number, but often enough in the objective case to corroborate the other, metrical and stylistic, indications of his authorship. i have said that no _ye's_ occur in acts i and ii, and act v, , the parts in which beaumont's hand as author or reviser appears. another very interesting confirmation of his authorship of act i, , act ii, , and act v, , is afforded by the double nomenclature of one of the characters, the amorous spinster who serves as waiting-woman to the scornful lady. according to the first three quartos ( , , ), and the folio ( ) which follows the text of these, whenever she appears in stage-direction or text before the beginning of act iii (viz., in beaumont's scenes), she is called mistress younglove or younglove, but in acts iii, iv, v, she is uniformly called abigal, except in beaumont's v, , where in the text and stage-direction (line ) she is again younglove. in the speech-headings, she is abig. or abi., all through the last three acts, for fletcher has noticed that the abbreviation young, for her, occurring by the side of young lo. for another character, young loveless, is confusing. but beaumont, who revised the first two acts, has been less careful than his wont, for he occasionally retains the young., which stood for the name by which he always thought of the waiting-woman. beaumont's mistress younglove of the earlier scenes is vividly vulgar and amorous. fletcher takes her up and turns her into a commonplace stage lecher in petticoats; but beaumont, in the fifth act, restores her to womanhood by giving her something of a heart. the scornful lady of beaumont's scenes is self-possessed and many-sided, introspective and capable of affection. in fletcher's hands she is shrewd and witty but evidently constructed for the furtherance of dramatic business. the steward, savil, of beaumont's act i, appears not only to be honest but to be designed with a view to a leading part in the complication; in act ii, , fletcher reduces him to drunkenness and servility, with slight regard to the possibilities of character and plot. the brisk but mechanical movement of the action and the stagey characterization and more animated scenes are fletcher's; also the manoeuvers directed against the lady's attitude of scorn, except that by which she is overcome. thorndike calls this comedy "perhaps the best representation of the collaboration" of these dramatists in that kind. if this is the best of which they were capable in that kind, it is as well that they did not produce more. this was written after beaumont had retired to sundridge place, and was giving very little attention to play-writing. it was, however, a very popular play; frequently acted before suppression of the theatres, and in the decade succeeding the restoration when it was several times witnessed by pepys. later, it was acted by mrs. oldfield; and, as _the capricious lady_ (an alteration by w. cooke), with mrs. abington in the heroine's part, it held the stage as late as --some six revivals in all. but, as sir adolphus ward says, it is "coarse both in design and texture, and seems hardly entitled to rank high among english comedies." it undoubtedly suggested ideas for massinger's tragicomedy, _a very woman_, licensed , but in which fletcher may have had a share; and for sir aston cockayne's _the obstinate lady_ of .[ ] footnotes: [ ] murray, _eng. dram. comp._, i, ; warwick bond, _variorum ed. of b. and f._, i, . [ ] _chr. eng. dr._, i, . [ ] see bond, _variorum, b. and f._, i, ; and references as given there, and by dyce, to _the famous history of sir thomas wyatt, the captain_, and other plays. [ ] see s. r. gardiner, _history of england_, vol. ii ( - ), pp. , , , , , , , , , , for this and the following concerning sarmiento. [ ] gardiner, _prince charles and the spanish marriage_, pp. , , . [ ] all critics agree in assigning i, , to beaumont. they differ concerning the rest of i and ii. [ ] so, also, fleay, g. c. macaulay, and oliphant; boyle, _n. s. s. trans._, xxvi ( ), and bond, _u. s._, p. . [ ] _variorum_, i, . [ ] the best editions of _the scornful ladie_ since dyce's time are that of r. warwick bond, in the _variorum_, and of glover and waller in the _camb. engl. classics_. chapter xxvii the dramatic art, principally of beaumont of the eleven plays, then, from which one may try to draw conclusions concerning the respective dramatic qualities of beaumont and fletcher during the period of their collaboration, we have found that two, _loves cure_ and _the captaine_, do not definitely show the hand of beaumont, and one, _the foure playes_, but the suspicion of a finger. two, _the woman-hater_ and _the knight of the burning pestle_, are wholly or essentially of his unaided authorship. the remaining six, _the coxcombe_, _philaster_, _the maides tragedy_, _cupids revenge_, _a king and no king_, _the scornful ladie_, are the beaumont-fletcher plays. others in which some critics think that they have found traces of beaumont, assuming that in their present form they are revisions of earlier work, are _thierry and theodoret_, _the faithful friends_, _wit at severall weapons_, _beggers bush_, _loves pilgrimage_, _the knight of malta_, _the lawes of candy_, _the honest man's fortune_, _bonduca_, _nice valour_, _the noble gentleman_, _the faire maide of the inne_. these i have carefully examined, and can conscientiously state that in no instance is there for me satisfactory evidence of the qualities which mark his verse and style. when in any of the suspected passages the verse recalls beaumont, the style is not his: i find none of his favourite words, phrases, figures, ideas. when in any such passage a beaumontesque hyperbole appears, or an occasional word from his vocabulary, or a line of haunting beauty such as he might have written, his metre or rhythm is absent. on the other hand, such passages display traits never found in him but often found in some other collaborator with fletcher, or in some reviser of fletcher's plays, sometimes massinger but more frequently field. the latter dramatist modeled himself upon beaumont, but though he caught, on occasion, something of the master's trick, no one steeped in the style of beaumont can for a moment mistake for his even the most dramatic or poetic composition of field. as to the scenes in prose supposed by some to have been written by beaumont, there is not one that bears his distinctive impress, nor one that might not have been written by daborne, field, or massinger, or by any of the half-dozen experts whose industry swelled the output of the fletcherian syndicate. there being no evidence of beaumont in any of these plays, it is unnecessary to investigate, here, the vexed question of the original date of each. suffice it to repeat that concerning none is there definite or generally accepted information that it was written before beaumont's retirement from dramatic activity. passing in review, the qualities of beaumont as a dramatist we find that in characterization he is, when at his best, true to nature, gradual in his processes, and discriminating in delineation. he is melodramatic at times in sudden shifts of crisis; but he is uniformly sensitive to innocence, beauty, and pathos,--contemptuous of cowardice, braggadocio, and insincerity,--appreciative of fidelity, friendship, noble affection, womanly devotion, self-sacrifice, and mercy, of romantic enterprise, and of the virile defiance of calumny, evil soliciting, and tyranny. in the delineation of lust he is frankly elizabethan rather than insidiously jacobean. he portrays with special tenderness the maiden of pure heart whose love is unfortunately placed too high, a bellario, euphrasia, or urania,--or crossed by circumstance, a viola, arethusa, aspatia, panthea. he distinctively appropriates shakespeare's girl-page; under his touch her grace suffers but slight diminution, and that by excess of sentimentality rather than by lack of individual endowment. his love-lorn lasses are integral personalities. no one, not maintaining a thesis, could mistake viola with her shrewd inventiveness and sense of humour for arethusa, or arethusa with her swift despairs for bellario, or bellario with her fearlessness and noble mendacity for the countrified urania, or any of them for the lachrymose aspatia, or the full-pulsed panthea. i find them as different each from the other as all from the tormenting oriana or that seventeenth century lydia languish, jasper's mock-romantic luce. his most virile characters are not the tragic or romantic heroes of the plays, but the blunt soldier-friends. it has been said, to be sure, that "there is scarcely an individual peculiarity among them."[ ] but mardonius never deserts his king, melantius does. and neither the mardonius nor the melantius of beaumont has the waggish humour of beaumont's dion. his romantic heroes, on the other hand, are not so distinct in their several characteristics; amintor, philaster, leucippus are generous, impulsive, poetic, readily deluded, undecided, and in action indecisive. the differentiation between them lies in the dramatic motive. of amintor the mainspring is the doctrine of the divinity of kings; he cannot be disloyal even to the king who has duped him and made of him a "fence" for his wife's adultery. of leucippus the mainspring is filial piety--disloyalty would mean surrendering his father to an incestuous and vengeful woman. of philaster the mainspring is the duty of revolt for the recovery of his ancestral throne. in _philaster_ and _cupid's revenge_ beaumont's tyrants are sonorific yet shadowy forms; but the king of the _maides tragedy_ is a thoroughly visualized monster, and arbaces in _a king and no king_ stands as an epitome of progressively developed, concrete personality, absolutely distinct from any other figure on beaumont's stage. in the construction of evadne and bacha a similar skill in evolution and individualization is displayed. the latter is an abnormality grown from lust to overweening ambition; the former never loses our sympathy: in her depravity there is the seed of conscience; through shame and love she wins a soul; the crime by which at last she would redeem herself leaves her no longer futile but half-way heroic; and her pleading for amintor's love, her self-murder, fix her in memory among those squandered souls that have known no happiness--whose misery or whose shame is merged and made beautiful in the pity of it all. of his braggarts and poltroons beaumont is profuse: the best are bessus and calianax, so far as they have not been reduced to horse-play by another hand. for pharamond we are indebted as much to fletcher as to beaumont. the jonsonian humours of beaumont's braggarts, excellent as they may be, are not more clearly marked nor better drawn than those of many of his other characters, the misogynist, the retributive oriana, and the gourmand-parasite, in his youthful comedy of _the woman-hater_, or the devil-may-care merrythought, luce, the grocer and his wife, and in fact every convulsing caricature in his matchless _knight of the burning pestle_. of beaumont's effectiveness in satire and burlesque, enough has already been said. his laughter is genial but not uproarious: he chuckles; he lifts the eyebrow, but seldom sneers. with the gascon he vapours; with the love-lorn languishing, simpers; with the heroic captain of mile end, whiffles and--tongue in cheek--struts and throws a turkey-step; with the jovial roisterer he hiccoughs and wipes his mouth. homely wit, bathos, and the grotesque he fixes as on a film, and makes no comment; fustian he parodies; affectation he feeds with banter. for the inflated he cherishes a noiseless, most exiguous bodkin. as to the matter of technique we have observed that the clear and comprehensive expositions of the joint-plays are generally beaumont's,--for instance, those of _the maides tragedy_, _philaster_, _king and no king_, and _the scornful ladie_; that in the tragedies and tragicomedies the sensational reversals of fortune, as well as the cumulative suspenses and reliefs of the closing scenes, are in nearly all cases his; and that in the tragicomedies the shifting of interest from the strictly tragic and universal to the more individual--pathetic, romantic, and comic--emotions, is also his. the conviction of evadne by her brother is an exception: that is the work of fletcher; but her contrition in the presence of amintor is again beaumont's. what he was capable of in romantic comedy is shown by his '_ricardo and viola_' episode. he cared much more for romance than for intrigue; and he found his romance in persons of common life as readily as among those of elevated station. in his share of the comedies of intrigue he shows, as elsewhere, that he was capable of elizabethan bubukles, but ludicrous not lecherous. above all, he delighted in interweaving with the romantic and sentimental that which partook of the pastoral, the pathetic, and the heroic. and we have noticed that, through the heroic and melodramatic, his more serious plays pass into the atmosphere of court life and spectacular display. as for fletcher's share in the dramas written in partnership with beaumont, little need be said by way of summary. he bulks large in the comedies of intrigue, _the scornful ladie_ and _the coxcombe_; and especially in the sections of plot that are carnal, trivial, or unnatural. he is in them just what he is in his own _monsieur thomas_ and his pornographic _captaine_--in the latter of which, if beaumont had any share at all it is unconvincing to me, save possibly as regards the one appalling scene of which i have spoken some five chapters back. to the tragedies and "dramatic romances" or tragicomedies fletcher did not contribute one-third as much as his co-worker. as in the murder-scene of _the maides tragedy_ he displays the dramaturgy of spectacular violence, so in the scene between melantius and evadne, the power of dramatic invective. but his aim is not the furtherance of interest by the dynamic unfolding of personality, or by the propulsion of plot through interplay of complicated motives or emotions, it is the immediate captivation of the spectator by rapidity and variety: by brisk, lucid, and witty dialogue, by bustle of action and multiplicity of conventional device, as in _cupids revenge_. few of his scenes are vital; most are clever histrionic inlays, subsidiary to the main action, or complementary and explanatory, as in _philaster_ and _a king and no king_. his characters move with all the ease of perfect mechanism; but they are made, not born. it follows that, in the more serious of the joint-dramas, the principal personages are much less indebted to his invention than has ordinarily been supposed. in the comedies of intrigue, on the other hand, conventional types of the stage or of the theatre-going london world, especially the fashionable and the bohemian provinces thereof, owe their existence chiefly to him. blackguards, wittols, colourless tricksters, roaring captains, gallants, debauchees, lechers, bawds, libidinous wives, sophisticated maidens who preen themselves with meticulous virtue but not with virtuous thoughts, all these people the scenes which fletcher contributed to the joint-comedies. and some of them thrust their faces into the romantic plays and tragedies as well. fletcher's most important contribution to the drama, his masterly and vital contribution, is to be found in his later work; and of that i have elsewhere treated,[ ] and shall have yet a word to say here. of the beaumont-fletcher plays the distinctive dramaturgy as well as the essential poetry are beaumont's, and these are worthy of the praise bestowed by his youthful contemporary, john earle: so new, so fresh, so nothing trod upon, and all so born within thyself, thine own. _the maske_, _the woman-hater_, and _the knight of the burning pestle_ should appear in a volume bearing beaumont's name. and for the partnership of beaumont and fletcher, perhaps, some day, some publisher will further justice do and print their _six_ plays in one volume too. footnotes: [ ] thorndike, _influence of b. and f._, p. . [ ] _the fellows and followers of shakespeare_, part two, in _representative english comedies_, vol. iii, now in press. chapter xxviii did the beaumont 'romance' influence shakespeare? richard flecknoe, in his _discourse of the english stage_, , thinking rather of the romantic and ornamented quality of beaumont and fletcher's plays, "full of fine flowers," than of any anticipation in them of the love and honour of plays of the restoration, says that they were the first to write "in the heroick way." symonds calls them the "inventors of the heroical romance." and lately professor thorndike[ ] and others have conjectured that the shakespeare of _cymbeline_, _winter's tale_, and _the tempest_ was following the lead of the two younger dramatists in what is attributed to them as a new style of 'dramatic romance' in his dramas. the argument is that _philaster_ (acted before october , ) preceded _cymbeline_ (acted between april , and may , ), and suggested to shakespeare a radical change of dramatic method, first manifest in _cymbeline_. and that five other "romances by beaumont and fletcher," _foure playes in one_, _thierry and theodoret_, _the maides tragedy_, _cupid's revenge_ and _a king and no king_, constituting with _philaster_ a distinctly new type of drama, were in all probability acted before the close of , and similarly influenced the method of _the winter's tale_ and _the tempest_, also of . before discussing the theory of shakespeare's indebtedness to _philaster_ and its "beaumont-fletcher" successors, i should like to file a two-fold protest; first, against the use of the word 'romance' for any kind of dramatic production, whatever. 'romance' applies to narrative of heroic, marvellous, and imaginative content, not to drama. _the maides tragedy_ and _cupid's revenge_ are not romances; they are romantic tragedies. _philaster_, _a king and no king_, and _cymbeline_ are, of course, romantic; but specifically they are melodramatic tragicomedies of heroic cast. _pericles_, _the winter's tale_, and _the tempest_ are romantic comedies of marvel or adventure. nothing is gained in criticism by giving them a name which applies, in english, strictly to narrative, or by regarding them as of a different dramatic species from the romantic dramas of greene and shakespeare that preceded them. i object, in the second place, to the grouping of the six plays said to constitute "a distinctly new type of drama" under the denomination "dramatic romances of beaumont _and_ fletcher"; for in some of them beaumont had no hand, and in others, the most important, fletcher's contribution of romantic novelty is altogether secondary, mostly immaterial. with _thierry and theodoret_, for instance, thus loosely called a "beaumont-fletcher romance," it is not proved that beaumont had anything to do. the drama displays nothing of his vocabulary, rhetoric or poetry. it is a later production by fletcher, massinger, and probably one other; and is the only play of this tragic-idyllic-romantic type attempted by fletcher after beaumont had ceased writing. in three of the _foure playes in one_, beaumont does not appear. he may possibly be traced in three scenes of _the triumph of love_; but with no certainty. fletcher, on the other hand, had very little to do with the three great dramas of sensational romance which form the core of the group in question, _philaster_, _the maides tragedy_, and _a king and no king_. as i have shown, he contributed not more than four scenes to _philaster_, four to _the maides tragedy_, and five to _a king and no king_. and, with the exception of two spectacularly violent scenes in _the maides tragedy_, his contribution, so far as writing goes, is supplementary dialogue and histrionic by-play. whatever is essentially novel, vital, and distinctive is by beaumont. to _cupid's revenge_ beaumont's contribution was slighter in volume, but without it the play would lack its distinctive quality. if we must cling to the misnomer 'romance' for any group of plays which may have influenced shakespeare's later comedies, let us limit the group to its beaumont core, and speak of the 'beaumont romance.' the express novelty in technique of the six arbitrarily selected, so-called 'beaumont-fletcher romances' is supposed to lie in the dramatic adaptation of certain sensational properties more suitable to narrative fiction; especially in the attempt to heighten interest by adding to the legitimate portrayal of character under stress and strain (as in tragedy), or of character in amusing maladjustment with social convention (as in comedy), the portrayal of vicissitudes of fortune; and in the attempt to enhance the thrills appropriate to tragic and comic appeal by such an amalgamation of the two as shall cause the spectator to run up and down the whole gamut of emotional sensibility. in the realm of tragedy the accentuation of the possibilities of suspense, whether by beaumont or any other, would be a novelty merely of degree. _cupid's revenge_, and _the triumph of death_ (in the _foure playes in one_) could hardly have impressed the author of _romeo and juliet_ and _hamlet_ as in this respect astounding innovations; and _the maides tragedy_ does not, so far as i can determine, sacrifice the unities of interest and effect for enhancement and variety of emotional thrill. in any case, it would be necessary to date _timon_, _antony_, and _coriolanus_, two or three years later than the fact, if one desired to prove that any shakespearian tragedy was influenced by a beaumont-fletcher exaggeration of suspense. whatever exaggeration may exist had already been practised by shakespeare himself. if a beaumont-fletcher novelty influenced shakespeare, that novelty must have lain in the transference of tragic suspense to the realm of romantic comedy with all its minor aesthetic appeals, and it would consequently be limited to their tragicomedies, _philaster_ and _a king and no king_. the tragicomic masques in the _foure playes in one_, that of _honour_ and that of _death_, are too insignificant to warrant consideration; and beaumont had nothing to do with them. in determining the indebtedness, if any, of _cymbeline_ to _philaster_ we lack the assistance of authentic dates of composition. the plays were acted about the same time,--_philaster_ certainly, _cymbeline_ perhaps, before october , . beaumont and fletcher's play may have been written as early as ; shakespeare's also as early as or : in fact, there are critics who assign parts of it to . with regard to the relative priority of _cymbeline_ and _a king and no king_, we are more fortunate in our knowledge. the former had certainly been acted by may , ; the latter was not even licensed until that year, and was not performed at court till december . the probabilities are altogether in favour of a date of composition later than that of _cymbeline_. but that shakespeare's _cymbeline_ and his later romantic dramas betray any consciousness of the existence of _philaster_ and its succeeding _king and no king_ has not been proved. save for the more emphatic employment of the masque and its accessories of dress and scenic display, of the combination of idyllic, romantic, and sensational elements of material, and the heightened uncertainty of dénouement, all naturally suggested by the demands of jacobean taste, no variation is discoverable in the course of shakespeare's dramatic art. and in these respects i find no extrinsic novelty, no momentous change--nothing in _philaster_ and _a king and no king_ that had not been anticipated by shakespeare. _cymbeline_, _the winter's tale_, and _the tempest_ are but the flowering of potentialities latent in the _two gentlemen of verona_ and _as you like it_, _much ado about nothing_ and _twelfth night_, _all's well that ends well_ and _measure for measure_--latent in the story of apollonius of tyre, and unavoidable in its dramatization as _pericles_, a play that was certainly not influenced by the methods of _philaster_. if in his later romantic dramas shakespeare borrowed any hint of technique from the beaumont contribution to the 'romances,' he was but borrowing back what beaumont had borrowed from him or from sources with which shakespeare was familiar when beaumont was still playing nursery miracles of the passion with his brothers in the gethsemane garden at grace-dieu. shakespeare's later comedies are a legitimate development of his peculiar dramatic art. beaumont's tragicomedies, with all their poetic and idyllic beauty and dramatic individuality, are novel, so far as construction goes, only in their emphasized employment of the sensational properties and methods mentioned above. their characteristic, when compared with that of shakespeare's last group of comedies, is melodramatic rather than romantic. they set, in fine, as did chapman's _gentleman usher_, and shakespeare's _measure for measure_ and _all's well that ends well_, an example which, abused, led to the decadence of elizabethan romantic comedy. the resemblance between _philaster_ and _cymbeline_, such as it is, is closer than that between _philaster_ and the shakespearian successors of _cymbeline_,--_the winter's tale_ and _the tempest_. but the common features of all these plays, the juxtaposition of idyllic scenes and interest with those of royalty, the combination of sentimental, tragic, and comic incentives to emotion, the false accusations of unchastity and the resulting jealousy, intrigue, and crime, the wanderings of an innocent and distressed woman in boy's clothing, the romantic localization, did not appear first in either _philaster_ or _cymbeline_. _philaster_ and _cymbeline_ follow numerous clues in the idyllic-comic of _love's labour's lost_ and _midsummer-night's dream_; in the idyllic-romantic-pathetic of _two gentlemen of verona_, _as you like it_, and _twelfth night_; and for that matter in the materials furnished by greene, lodge, sidney, sannazzaro, montemayor, bandello, cinthio and boccaccio; and in the romantic and tragicomic fusion already attempted in _much ado_, _all's well_, and _measure for measure_. for the character and the trials of imogen, shakespeare did not require the inspiration of a beaumont. he had been busied with the figure of innogen (as he then called her) as early as ; for in the quarto of _much ado_ she appears by sheer accident in a stage direction as the wife of the leonato of that play. he had been using the sources from which _cymbeline_ is drawn,--holinshed and boccaccio, and that early romantic drama, _fidele and fortunio_,--before _philaster_ was written. and it is much more likely that the belarius of shakespeare and the bellario of beaumont were both suggested by the bellaria of greene's _pandosto_, than that shakespeare borrowed from beaumont. nor is shakespeare likely to have been indebted to beaumont's example for the sensational manner of the dénouement in _cymbeline_--the succession of fresh complications and false starts by which suspense is sustained. these are precisely the features that distinguish those scenes of _pericles_ which by the consensus of critics are assigned to shakespeare; and _pericles_ was written by , at least as early as _philaster_, and in all probability earlier. in his story of marina, shakespeare is merely pursuing the sensational methods of _measure for measure_ and anticipating those of _the winter's tale_. in general, the plot lies half-way between the tragicomic possibilities of the _comedy of errors_, _twelfth night_, _all's well_, and _measure for measure_, and the romantic manipulation of _cymbeline_ and the later plays. in fine, there is closer resemblance between _cymbeline_ and half a dozen of shakespeare's earlier comedies, than between _cymbeline_ and _philaster_; and it might more readily be shown that the author of _philaster_ was indebted to those half-dozen plays, than shakespeare to _philaster_. the differences between the beaumont 'romances' and shakespeare's later romantic comedies are in fact more vital than the similarities. in _philaster_, _the maides tragedy_, and _a king and no king_ the central idea is of contrast between sentimental love and unbridled lust, and this gives rise to misunderstanding, intrigue, and violence. in shakespeare's later comedies the central motive is altogether different: it is of disappearance and discovery. the disappearance is occasioned by false accusation or conspiracy. in _pericles_, _cymbeline_, and _the winter's tale_, the dramatic interest revolves about the pursuit of a lost wife or child, the wanderings and trials of the heroine, and her recovery;[ ] in _the tempest_, about the disappearance and discovery of the ousted duke and his daughter. there is no resemblance between beaumont's love-lorn maidens in page's garb pursuing the unconscious objects of their affection and shakespeare's joyous girls and traduced wives. nor is there in shakespeare's later comedies any analogue to the sensual passion of the 'beaumont and fletcher romances,' to their bachas, megras, and evadnes, their ultra-sentimental philasters, their blunt soldier-counselors and boastful poltroons. pisanio and cloten have respectively no kinship with dion and pharamond. what appears to be novel in _pericles_ and its shakespearian successors, the somewhat melodramatic dénouement, is, as i have said, but the modification of the playwright's well-known methods in conformity with the contemporary demand for more highly seasoned fare. but, in essence, the dramatic careers of imogen and hermione, are no more sensational than those of their older sisters, hero, helena, and isabella. and what is most evidently not novel with shakespeare in his later romantic comedies,--the consistent dramatic interaction between crisis and character,--is precisely what the 'beaumont-fletcher romances' do not always possess. beaumont's characterization at its best, with all its naturalness, compelling pathos, poignancy, and abandon is lyrical or idyllic rather than dramatic; fletcher's is expository and histrionic--of manners rather than the man. beaumont did not influence shakespeare. and if not beaumont, then certainly not fletcher; for in the actual composition of the core of the so-called 'beaumont-fletcher romances' fletcher's share was altogether subordinate; and since after the dissolution of the partnership he attempted but one romantic tragic drama of that particular kind, _thierry and theodoret_,--and that a clumsy failure,--it must be concluded that in the designing of those 'romances' his share was even less significant. but to appreciate the contribution of beaumont to elizabethan drama, and his place in literary history, it is fortunately not necessary to assume that he diverted from its natural course the dramatic technique of a master, twenty years his senior and for twenty years before beaumont began to write, intimately acquainted with the conditions of the stage,--the acknowledged playwright of the most successful of theatrical companies and, in spite of changing fashions, the most steadily progressive and popular dramatic artist of the early jacobean period. with regard to beaumont it is marvel sufficient, that between his twenty-fifth and his twenty-eighth year of age he should have elaborated in dramatic art, even with the help of fletcher, so striking a combination of preceding models, and have infused into the resulting heroic-romantic type such fresh poetic vigour and verve of movement. footnotes: [ ] _the influence of beaumont and fletcher on shakespeare_, . see m. w. sampson's critique in _j. ger. phil._, ii, . [ ] see morton luce, _hand book to shakespeare's works_, p. . chapter xxix conclusion beaumont's poetic virtues are his peculiar treasure; but the dramatic method of his heroic-romantic plays lent itself lightly to imitation and debasement. not so much _the maides tragedy_ and _a king and no king_, which respect the unities of interest and effect, as _philaster_, _the coxcombe_, and _cupid's revenge_, to which fletcher's contribution of captivating theatrical 'business' and device was more considerable. some of these plays, and some of shakespeare's, too, and of marston's, and chapman's, and webster's, paved the way for the heroic play of the restoration--a melodramatic development of tragicomedy and sentimental tragedy, in which philandering sentiment, strained and histrionic passion, took the place of romantic love and virile conflict,--a drama in which an affected view of life tinged crisis and character alike, an unreasoning devotion to royalty or some other chivalric ideal obscured personal dignity and moral responsibility, and the thrill of surprise dissipated the catharsis, proper to art, whether tragic or comic. upon the future of the comedy of intrigue and manners, beaumont exercised no distinctive influence. in plays like _the coxcombe_ and _the scornful ladie_, the genius of fletcher dominated the scenes of lighter dialogue and comic complication. and it is through comedies of intrigue and manners written by fletcher alone or in company with others, especially massinger, that fletcher's individual genius exercised most influence on the subsequent history of the drama. the characteristics which won theatrical preëminence for his romantic comedies, heroic tragicomedies and tragedies, written after the cessation of beaumont's activity, were a fletcherian vivacity of dialogue, a fletcherian perfection of 'business,' and a fletcherian exaggeration of the tragicomic spirit and technique of which, in the days of the beaumont-fletcher partnership, beaumont had availed himself but which he, still, by virtue of his critical faculty, had held somewhat in restraint. from the time of prynne's _histriomastix_, , there have been critics who have pointed to the gradual deterioration of the stage which, beginning, say some, with plays of shakespeare himself, continued through beaumont and fletcher to the drama of the restoration. flecknoe, rymer, coleridge, lamb, swinburne, ward, have commented upon phases of the phenomenon. and, recently, one of our most judicious contemporary essayists has in a series of articles developed the theme.[ ] i heartily concur with the scholarly and well-languaged editor of _the nation_, in many of his conclusions concerning the general history of this decline; and i have already in this book availed myself with profit of some of his suggestions. i agree with him that the downfall of tragedy began when "the theme was altered from a single master passion to a number of loosely coördinated passions, thus relaxing the rigidity of tragic structure and permitting the fancy to play more intimately through all the emotions"; that this degeneration may be traced to the time "when ecclesiastical authority was broken by scepticism and knowledge, and the soul was left with all its riches of imagination and emotion, but with the principle of individual responsibility discredited and the fibre of self-government relaxed"; that "the consequences may be seen in the italy of the sixteenth century"; and that "the result is that drama of the court which, besides its frequent actual indecency, is at heart so often non-moral and in the higher artistic sense incomprehensible." but when he ascribes this alteration of the theme of tragedy from a single master passion to a number of "loosely coördinated passions" to our "twin dramatists," and cites as his example _the maides tragedy_ in which, as he sees it, we have "but a succession of womanly passions, each indeed cunningly conceived and expressed, but giving us in the end nothing we can grasp as a whole and comprehend";--and says that evadne is "no woman at all, unless mere random passionateness can be accounted such," i shake my head in sad demurrer. first, because, as i have tried to show above, evadne is anything but an incomprehensible embodiment of unmotived passions, and _the maides tragedy_ anything but a "loosely coördinated" concern, and secondly, because i disfavour this attribution of the decadence of tragedy, or of comedy, for that matter, to our _twin_ dramatists. to substantiate such a charge it would be incumbent upon the critic to prove not only that the decadence is indubitably visible in the joint-work of beaumont and fletcher, but that it is specifically visible in beaumont's, as in fletcher's, contribution to that work, and also, that it was not already patent in the dramatic productions of their seniors; that it was not patent in heywood's _royall king and loyall subject_, for instance; in the "glaring colours" of chapman's _bussy d'ambois_, and in his _gentleman usher_ with its artificial atmosphere of courtly romance, its melodramatic reverses and surprises, its huddling up of poetic justice; in the sensational devices, passionate unrealities and sepulchral action of marston's _malcontent_, the sophistical theme and callous pornography of his _dutch courtezan_, and in the inhuman imaginings of his _insatiate countess_; that it was not patent in the heartless irresponsibility and indecency of middleton, and in the inartistic warping of tragic situations to comic solutions that characterize his early romantic plays; that it was not patent in the poisonous exhalations, the wildering of sympathy, and the disproportioned art that characterize the _white devil_ of their immediate contemporary, john webster. the decadence was hastened by fletcher; but not in any distinctive degree by beaumont. i second mr. more's commendation of prynne's "philosophic criticism of that 'men in theatres are so far from sinne-lamenting sorrow, that they even delight themselves with the representations of those wickednesses,'" but i deplore the application of that criticism to _beaumont_ and fletcher, as that "_they_ loosed the bonds of conduct and left human nature as a mere bundle of irresponsibilities." many of fletcher's excesses and defects not only in the plays written with beaumont, but in plays written after his death, have been conferred from the day of flecknoe to the present upon beaumont. there is very little "sinne-lamenting sorrow" in the _valentinian_ of fletcher, or of fletcher and massinger, and very little in fletcher's _wife for a month_; but in many of beaumont's scenes in _the maides tragedy_, and _a king and no king_, and _the coxcombe_ the genuine accents of "sinne-lamenting sorrow" are heard. fletcher certainly "loosed the bonds of conduct and left human nature as a mere bundle of irresponsibilities," but not beaumont. let the reader turn to that poet's scenes in the joint-plays (two-thirds of the great ones) as i have indicated them, or to what i have unrolled of beaumont's mental habit, and judge for himself.[ ] the concession of the essayist from whom, as a representative of enlightened modern opinion upon the subject, i have been quoting,--that "as fletcher's work stands, he may appear utterly devoid of conscience, a man to whom our human destinies were mere toys," i hail with delight, although i think that fletcher the man had more honest ideals than fletcher the dramatist. but, as a critic, i resent the surmise that fletcher "was by nature of a manlier, sounder fibre than beaumont." in the heroic-romantic comedy, _the humorous lieutenant_, fletcher displays, indeed, as mr. more says, "a strain almost like that of shakespeare, upon whom he manifestly modelled himself in everything except shakespeare's serious insight into human motives." but does that play reveal anything of manlier, sounder fibre than beaumont's _a king and no king_? written in _the humorous lieutenant_ has enduring vitality, though not because of its tragicomic presupposition; for the wars and rumours of war are rhetorical or humorous, the devilish design of the king upon the chastity of the heroine is predestined to failure,--and the announcement of her death, but a dramatic device which may impose upon the credulity of her noble lover but not upon the audience. in the ms. of it is styled "a pleasant comedie"; and such it is, of 'humour' and romantic love, upon a background of the heroic. it is fletcher's best comedy of the kind; one of the best of the later shakespearian age. the conception of the lieutenant, whose humour is to fight when he is plagued by loathsome disease and to wench when he is well, is not original, nor is the character of the hero demetrius; but in the elaboration fletcher has created these characters anew, has surrounded them with half a dozen other figures no less life-like, and has set them in a plot, cunningly welded of comic, sentimental, and martial elements, and captivatingly original. though the interest is partly in a wanton intrigue, and the mirth grossly carnal even when not bawdy, i think that the objectionable qualities are, for almost the only time in fletcher's career in comedy, not ineradicable. the wondrous charm, "matchless spirit," vivacity, and constancy of celia render the machinations of the procuress, leucippe, and her "office of concealments" futile,--so much dramatic realism to be accentuated or mitigated at the will of the stage manager;--and the alluring offers of the king are but so many weapons for his own defeat. if the lieutenant were not an indissoluble compound of hero, swashbuckler, shirker, and "stinkard," i fear, indeed, that he would lose his savour. but the love of rabelaisian humour is, after all, ingrained in the male of the species, and if the license be not nauseating it is not necessarily damnable. this boisterous, pocky rascal who "never had but two hours yet of happiness," and who courts the battlefield to save him "from the surgeon's miseries," held the stage from the time of condel, taylor, and lowin, to that of macready and liston, and there is no reason why his vitality should not be perennial. there are few more laughable scenes in farcical literature than those in which, having drained a philtre intended to make celia dote upon the king, the lieutenant imagines himself to be a handsome wench of fifteen, wooes the king most fatuously, even kisses the royal horses as they pass by. the meeting and the parting, the trials and the reunion, of celia and demetrius constitute the most convincing and attractive romantic-pathetic love-affairs in jacobean drama since shakespeare had ceased to write. indeed, this "perilous crafty," spirited, "angel-eyed" girl "too honest for them all" who so ingeniously and modestly shames the lustful monarch and wins her affianced prince is not unworthy of the master. nor is demetrius. the play contains many genuinely poetic passages, and some of those lines of meteoric beauty--"our lives are but our marches to the grave"--in which beaumont abounded, and that fletcher too rarely coined. with all the rankness of its humour, the play has such literary and dramatic excellence that one cannot but regret the infrequency with which fletcher produced that of which he was capable. but even this best of fletcher's heroic-dramatic plays contains, as mr. more has observed, "one of those sudden conversions which make us wonder whether in his heart he felt any difference between a satyr-like lust and a chaste love--the conversion of the lecherous old king." i grant fletcher's surpassing excellence in comedy, especially the comedy of manners and intrigue as, for instance, _the chances_ and the _rule a wife and have a wife_, and i have elsewhere acknowledged his supremacy after shakespeare in that realm. but we are now considering not that kind of composition or its technique, but the fibre which might be expected to show itself in compositions involving the element of seriousness. _the humorous lieutenant_ is of that kind,--it is called a tragicomedy by some. has it one tithe of the serious insight into human life of any of beaumont's plays involving ethical conflict? inquiring further into the fibre of fletcher, let us pass in brief review another play, a genuine tragicomedy this time, _a wife for a month_, written the year before he died, of whose heroine mr. more says that "from every point of view, ethical and artistic, she is one of the most finely drawn and truest women in the whole range of english drama." the complication, here, assuredly affords opportunity for the display of sound and manly fibre; and the tragicomedy is instructive in more ways than one: it illustrates fletcher's skill in construction and his disregard of probability; his sense of moral conflict and his insensibility to moral beauty; his power to conceive characteristic situations and his impotence to construct natural characters; his capability of noble sentiment and poetic expression and his beastly perverseness of fancy, his prostitution of art to sordid sensationalism. the story of the cumulative torments to which a lustful usurper subjects the maiden, evanthe, whom he desires, and valerio whom she loves, is graphically estimated by one of the _dramatis personae_,--"this tyranny could never be invented but in the school of hell: earth is too innocent." beside it zola's _l'assommoir_ smells sweet, and a nightmare lacks nothing of probability. ugly, however, as the fundamental assumption is: namely, that the tyrant should permit a wedding on condition that at the end of a month the husband shall suffer death,--and with provision that meanwhile the honeymoon shall be surrounded with restriction more intolerable than death itself; and incredible as is the contrivance of the sequel,--kept a-going by the suppression of instinct and commonsense on the part of the hero, and withheld from its proper tragic conclusion by miraculous cure, an impossible conversion, and an unnatural clemency,--the plot is after all deftly knit, and the interest sustained with baleful fascination. but it would be difficult to instance in jacobean drama a more incongruous juxtaposition of complication morally conceived, and execution callously vulgarized, than that offered by the scene between valerio and evanthe on their wedding-night. in the corresponding scene of _the maides tragedy_ (ii, ), beaumont had created a model: amintor bears himself with dignity toward his shameless and contemptuous bride. but in fletcher's play it is this "most finely drawn and truest woman" that makes the advances; and she makes them not only without dignity, but with an unmaidenly persistence and persuasiveness of which any abandoned 'baggage' or russian actress of to-day might be ashamed. and, still, the dramatist is never weary of assuring us that she is the soul of "honour mingled with noble chastity," and clad in "all the graces" that nature can give. in the various other trying situations in which evanthe is placed it is requisite to our conviction of reality that she be the "virtuous bud of beauty": but the tongue of this "bud" blossoms into billingsgate, she swears "something awful," and she displays an acquaintance with sexual pathology that would delight the heart even of the most rabid twentieth-century advocate of sex-hygiene for boys and girls in coëducational public schools. two or three of the characters are nobly conceived and, on occasion, contrive to utter themselves with nobility. valerio achieves a poetry infrequent in fletcher's plays when he says of the shortness of his prospective joys: "a paradise, as thou art, my evanthe, is only made to wonder at a little, enough for human eyes, and then to wander from,"-- and when he describes the graces of spiritual love. and the queen's thoughts upon death, though melodramatic, have something of the dignity of beaumont's style. but the minds of the principal personages reflect not only the flashing current but the turbid estuaries of fletcher's thought. the passion, save for valerio's, is lurid, and the humour latrinal. to sketch the bestial even in narrative, however fleeting, is inartistic; to fix it on canvas is offensive; to posture it upon the stage is unpardonable. the last is practically what fletcher has done here; and the wonder is that he appears to think that he is justifying virtue. no; fletcher had not the fibre of beaumont even when he was writing with him; and he did not achieve "a manlier, sounder fibre," after beaumont had ceased, and he had swung into the brilliant orbit which he rounded as sole luminary of the stage. i object again,--and the reader who has followed the exposition of the preceding pages will, i hope, object with me,--to the dictum of a german writer of this latter day, that the reason of the degeneracy of _beaumont_ and fletcher, ethically, "seems to lie in the narrowing of the drama from a national interest to the flattery of a courtly caste." mr. more opines that such an explanation should not be pressed too far; and he suggests that one reason why "we are unable to comprehend many of the persons upon the stage of beaumont and fletcher" is that we are similarly unable to comprehend "the more typical men and women who were playing the actual drama of the age." so far as fletcher's _dramatis personae_ are concerned, there is truth in this; but why couple beaumont with him? if you omit a character or two in _the woman-hater_, which was a youthful _jeu d'esprit_, you shall find very few incomprehensible figures among those of beaumont's creation. and as to the german mentioned above, dr. aronstein, what "flattery of a courtly caste" can he possibly detect in beaumont's satire upon favourites in _the woman-hater_; in that burlesque of bourgeois affectations, _the knight of the burning pestle_ (the court, too, was still reading the literature there satirized); or in his philaster, who was a rebel; or in his amintor of _the maides tragedy_, whose fate hinged upon his shuffling subservience to a king, or in the king himself on whom god sends "unlookt-for sudden death," because of his lust; or in his king arbaces, whose general has "not patience to looke on whilst you runne these forbidden courses"; or in his scenes of _cupid's revenge_, which scourge the vices of the court; or in his sir roger and mistress abigail and her scornful lady,--or in his ricardo and viola, who are just a lover and his lass, and have never dreamed of court or king at all? i wonder whether it may not be possible for us henceforth to give to fletcher, and the whole fletcherian syndicate,--the massingers, fields, middletons and rowleys, dabornes, and the rest,--the praise and the blame for what they produced, but eliminate beaumont from the award. one grows weary of the attribution to him of moral irresponsibilities and extravagances in art of which he was, in all that we have learned of his breeding, life, and mental habit the implicit opponent--very much like his brother sir john,--and of the opposite of which he was in his poetic and dramatic output, as i have minutely demonstrated, the professed exponent. in the broad daylight of philological science and modern historical criticism we should no longer regard beaumont-and-fletcher as an indivisible pair of siamese twins, constructing with all four hands at once the fabric of fifty-three plays, or even of ten, and tongue-and-grooving the boards with such diabolic deftness that each artisan shall for ever be credited with the merits and defects of both. it is, at any rate, time that the world of scholars,--and then the world of readers may follow,--render unto cæsar the things that are cæsar's. as for cæsar, we concede to him, john fletcher, once for all, as he may be read in his independent work, by one even running, artistic virtues numerous and brilliant:[ ] gaiety, wit, sprightly dialogue; mastery of stage-craft,--of all the devices of captivating plot and rattling 'business,' and all the conventions and theatrically legitimate clap-trap of dramatic types and humours, hallowed by success, adored by the actor, and darling to the public. we concede skill in the weaving of romantic complications, captivatingly cunning, and in the construction of situations irresistibly ludicrous; remarkable inventiveness of sensational adventure and spectacular scene and attractive setting; realism at every turn, and an ability to portray manners, varied and minute. above all, we admire, and thankfully rejoice in, his smoothness of mechanism, his lightness of touch, his contrivance and manipulation of pure comedy--whether of manners or intrigue,--and in his world of characters, not only laughter-compelling, but endowed with humour themselves and sworn to the enthronement of the spirit of mirth. on the other hand we read on every page of fletcher's independent contribution to english drama what, perhaps, was not the man himself, but his dramaturgic pose--still for the world the essence of the fletcher who ruled it from the stage:[ ] we read his "shallowness of moral nature," his acquiescence in the ethical apathy and cynicism of the time; his indelicacy; his indifference to, if not irreverence for, the dramatic proprieties,--his subservience to popular taste and favour in an age when "the theatre had ceased to be the expression of patriotism and of the national life and had become the amusement of the idle gentleman and of such members of the lower classes as were not kept away by the puritan disapproval of the stage." we witness with amusement but with self-reproach his presentation of characters superficial, and superficially refracting the evanescent vanities and heartless vices of jacobean london, as if representative of actual and general life; his play of emotions feigned or sentimental; his violent contrasts, unnatural conversions, impossible revolutions of fortune; we discern the absence of subtle intuition, the failure to effect profound and lasting impression, the "lack of seriousness and of spiritual poise." we note, in the heroic-romantic dramas, improbability and extravagance; and, in the tragedies, such as _valentinian_, a total disregard of the unity of interest,--just that muddling of motives of which the editor of _the nation_ has written,--and therefore the failure to realize unity of effect. there has been no moral sequence: the suspense has been distracted by the variety of emotions stirred. after the hours of strain to which the spectator has imaginatively subjected himself, the relief--what aristotle calls the catharsis--is not forthcoming: because the intellect has not been clarified but fuddled; the will has not been braced; the feelings appropriate to tragedy--of pity and of fear--have not enjoyed an unthwarted, undiverted outflow. the faculties have been tantalized by manifold, deceptive, agonies of thirst. they should have been centred in one yearning, conducted to one clear spring of medicament, and purged by waters of truth, justice, and sympathy. from fletcher's _valentinian_ and _bonduca_ despite the poetry and the onrush of the dramatic action there proceeds no calm, "all passion spent"; no beauty that is peace. and of the tragicomedies, _the loyall subject_ and _a wife for a month_, this verdict may be even more readily pronounced. such are the excellences and defects of fletcher. let us give him all the glory of the former: but stay from burdening beaumont, who had faults of his own, with responsibility for the latter,--with the unmorality or immorality or extravagant artistry of fletcher when not associated with beaumont. with the vices and virtues of fletcher's rocket, bursting in stellar polychrome, beaumont had nothing to do. to him justice can be accorded only if he, after these three centuries, be considered alone,--not for ever coupled with fletcher, but spoken and thought of, and known, as dramatist, poet, man of far sounder fibre, and more virile marrow,--of superior insight, imagination, and art. next to shakespeare, the most essentially poetic dramatist of the early jacobean period was francis beaumont. he had not the learning of jonson, nor the long career, nor the dictatorial position; nor did he attempt to rival him in comedy, or criticism. but his great poem, _the maides tragedy_ is a thousand times more enthralling and poetic than _sejanus_ or _catiline_. shakespeare always excepted, the only author of tragedy in that day whose intuitions and lines of astounding splendour at all compete with, sometimes surpass, beaumont's is webster; but the fascination of his _duchess of malfy_ is lurid, miasmatic, stupefying; that of _the maides tragedy_, breathless and heart-breaking. in the drama of mingled motive, jonson produced but one masterpiece that in poetry, valiancy of design, and portrayal of the ridiculous, equals beaumont's _a king and no king_,--the _volpone_; but that is not tragicomedy, and it drips venom. all that stands between _a king and no king_ and artistic perfection is the dénouement. if the lovers had died, their struggle against temptation still continuing, their passion unfulfilled,--if in the moment of death, they had discovered that their union were no incest after all, beaumont would have left behind him another consummate tragedy. as it is, to find a parallel in jacobean literature, outside of shakespeare, one must turn to ford's _'tis a pity, she's a whore_. there again with poetic effulgence the problem of incest is dramatized; but how half-hearted the struggle, insincere the moral,--the poetry, purple and unconvincing! in romantic comedy, between and , others have produced plays which from the dramatic point of view equal _philaster_,--dekker, heywood, marston, chapman, middleton, and rowley. not all even of shakespeare's romantic comedies come up to _philaster_ in literary or dramatic excellence; but only shakespeare has written what surpasses it. in the comedy that delineates humours, _the woman-hater_, as regards both poetry and technique, falls below several plays of dekker, chapman, marston, middleton, and jonson, and below the earlier efforts of shakespeare; but in characterization it is as good as some of shakespeare's. there is no comic figure in _love's labour's lost_, the _two gentlemen of verona_, or the _comedy of errors_, that surpasses beaumont's hungry courtier; and the humorous dialogue and the prose as a whole of _the woman-hater_ are more natural, and more intelligible to the modern ear. with shakespeare's later comedies that in any degree avail themselves of the 'humours' element, or with jonson's masterpieces in this kind, _the woman-hater_, of course, can not be placed in comparison. but if for the nonce, we consider beaumont's _knight of the burning pestle_, merely in its 'humours' aspect, we must acknowledge that its characters are as clear-cut, as typical of the time and as provocative of laughter as those of _every man in his humour_, which for all its historic significance most people nowadays read, or might read, with a yawn; and that it is less artificial in construction, more human in motive and character, more modern in mirth than _the silent woman_,--even though the object of its ridicule be now _caviare_ to the general. to set beaumont's burlesque as a comedy of manners beside any of shakespeare's comedies from down, would be futile, but of the early shakespearian plays mentioned above none shakes more with fun than _the knight of the burning pestle_, and not one gives us the flavour of london,--its citizens, their affectations and ideals, their reading, habits and life,--or of england, that the _knight_ affords in every scene. if shakespeare instead of writing, say, the _comedy of errors_ had written _the knight of the burning pestle_, scholars would now be flooding us with _variorum_ editions of it, women's literary clubs would be likening him with fervour to cervantes, and the public might be so well educated to its allusions and ideas that our hebrew emperors of the theatrical world and arbiters of dramatic vogue would be "starring" it through the country to the delight of audiences that wisely make a show of understanding and enjoying everything that shakespeare wrote. to what unrealized extent the fate of plays hangs upon the tradition of the green-room, the actor's whim, the manager's enterprise or ignorance, and luck, is material for an essay in itself. i am not asserting that _the knight of the burning pestle_ pretends to poetry, as do all of shakespeare's plays; but that for chuckling and side-long mirth, and for manners and insight into the life of a rarely interesting period, it is fine comedy, while as burlesque it is equalled by few of the kind in our language and excelled by none. it may be true that burlesques lose their flavour with the passing of their victims. but that does not hold true of the drama of problems perennially recurring and of emotions common to men of every age and clime. of such drama are _the maides tragedy_ and _a king and no king_. they are not antiquated. and i doubt whether they are stronger meat than some of shakespeare's plays, all of which are more or less 'arranged' before they are placed upon the modern stage. as to strong meat, the difference between the elizabethan taste and the present georgian is more a matter of variety than of flavour. our forefathers liked their venison in gobbets, for three hours at a stretch, and washed it down with a tun or two of sack. the theatre-going public to-day likes its game just as high, but it varies the meal with other dishes as highly seasoned,--and washes it down with a foreign-labeled little bottle of champagne. our ancestors called a depraved woman by a brief bad name, and put it into poetry. we denominate her, if at all, by some euphemistic circumlocution, in prose; but we none the less throng the theatre to see dalilah play, and we follow with apparent gusto her sinuous enticements upon the stage. we rejoice in problem-plays more erotic, and far more subtly perilous, than those which shakespeare and beaumont beheld. we are of an age of uplift, and meticulous reform. we would eliminate fornication and adultery; but not from our plays. they teem with--suggestion. there is nothing neurotic, nothing insidious in _the maides tragedy_ and _a king and no king_. the grave of sin is wide open; and the spade that digged it stands in plain view, and is called a spade. on the whole i had rather have the anglo-saxon bluntness and gleaming poetry of the beaumont than the whitewashed epigram and miching-mallecho of the twentieth-century play i saw last night. there is no reason why, properly cut and staged, beaumont's greatest plays should not yield delight to-day. and as for the reader why should he not turn back to "the inexhaustible treasures" of entertainment offered by these plays. "they were," as says mr. paul elmer more, "they were to the elizabethan age what the novel is to ours, and i wonder how many readers three centuries from now will go back to our fiction for amusement as we to-day can go back to beaumont and fletcher." i began this book by quoting from an historian of the drama of marked repute: "in the argo of the elizabethan drama--as it presents itself to the imagination of our own latter days--shakespeare's is and must remain the commanding figure. next to him sit the twin literary heroes, beaumont and fletcher--more or less vaguely supposed to be inseparable from one another in their works." and also from the last great poet of the victorian age: "if a distinction must be made between the dioscuri of english poetry, we must admit that beaumont was the twin of heavenlier birth. only as pollux was on one side a demigod of diviner blood than castor can it be said that on any side beaumont was a poet of higher and purer genius than fletcher; but so much must be allowed by all who have eyes and ears to discern in the fabric of their common work a distinction without a difference." if i have succeeded in showing that in the fabric of their common work the distinction between beaumont and fletcher is measured by a wide and clearly visible difference, i shall be happy. others, to whom i have repeatedly expressed my indebtedness even when disagreeing with particulars of their criticism, have cleared the way. if in this book anything has been added to their services that may help the world to distinguish these two dramatists not only hand from hand but mind from mind, and to see beaumont plain, as i see him in the long gallery of his contemporaries, i shall be happier still; but most amply rewarded if, for the future, it may be fittingly recognized not only that beaumont was the twin of heavenlier birth--the pollux, but why he was. then, perhaps, the world of sagacious readers may turn from talking always of beaumont-and-fletcher, and protest occasionally and with well-informed reason in the name of francis beaumont alone. footnotes: [ ] mr. paul elmer more, _the nation_, n. y., nov. , , april , , may , . [ ] chapters xxii and xxv, above. [ ] they are well presented by miss hatcher in her _john fletcher_; and they are again discussed in my forthcoming third volume of _representative english comedies_. [ ] see again miss hatcher's work, and g. c. macaulay, _francis beaumont, a critical study_, especially pp. - ; and my essay on _the fellows and followers of shakespeare_ (part two) in the volume mentioned above. appendix genealogical tables table a. plantagenet, comyn, beaumont, and villiers. the earls of buchan | henry iii agnes, heiress de | of england, beaumont in maine, | b. ; d. m. louis de brienne alexander | | comyn | henry, baron de | henry, beaumont, == alice comyn earl of lancaster fl. ; d. | | alianor == john, baron de beaumont, d. | henry, baron de beaumont, fl. ; d. | john, baron de beaumont, fl. ; d. thomas, | ld. bardolph +------+--------------+ | | | | henry, baron de sir thomas joan, beaumont, beaumont, m. sir wm. philip d. m. ( ) philippe | | maureward | | of coleorton | | | elizabeth == john, baron, | and viscount | beaumont, | d. | | +-----------+--------------+ | | sir john | | john villiers, son | beaumont, d. (henry beaumont, +--------------------+ d. | d. towton, ?) | | | | | | | | william son | | | villiers, (john, fl. ?) william, joan, | d. . | visc. and m. john, | | john beaumont lord bardolph, lord lovel | | of grace-dieu, d. , s. p. | | | fl. - ; m. | | | =elizabeth= +----------------+ | | =hastings= | | | | | francis, joan, | | | viscount m. sir bryan | | francis, d. lovel, d. stapleton | | | : | | +---+---+----+ : | | | | | | present barons | | henry | | elizabeth de beaumont | | | | | | john | | | | +-----------------------------+ | =francis= | | | =beaumont= richard b. george b. | - d. | | | william | nicholas | | beaumont anthony | | of glenfield | +---------------+ | | | | | | sir henry, sir thomas, | | d. of stoughton, | | | d. maria, m. | sir. thomas, : sir gen. villiers , : | viscount present | beaumont, baronets george, of swords of coleorton duke of hall =buckingham= - table b nevil, hastings, beaumont, talbot richard nevil, earl of salisbury | +------------+-------+ | | richard, =catherine nevil= == sir. william, earl of warwick baron hastings, | executed +--+-------------+ | | | | isabel, anne, | m. geo. duke m. richard iii | of clarence, +--------------------------+-+-----------+ bro. of edw. iv | | | | edward, sir william, anne, m. margaret, baron hastings hastings =geo. talbot=, countess of d. fl. earl of salisbury, | | shrewsbury m. richard de +---------------+ | | la pole | | | anne, m. | =george=, anne, m. thos. | =geo. talbot=, | earl of stanley, | earl of | huntingdon, earl derby | shrewsbury | c. - , | | | m. anne, | francis, henry de dau. of henry | earl of la pole stafford, | shrewsbury | duke of buckingham | | | | | george, katherine pole == francis, earl | earl of of huntingdon, | shrewsbury - | d. | | | +-------------+----+----------+---------+ | gilbert, | | | | | earl of henry, earl george, walter, m. lady | shrewsbury, of huntingdon earl, joyce roper mary | m. mary - d. (aunt of mrs. hastings | cavendish, | elizab. vaux) | sister-in-law | | | of anne | sir henry hastings | pierrepoint | m. elizab. dau. of thos. | beaumont francis visc. beaumont | | hastings, of swords | +----+--+---+ d. | | | | | | | george, | | | +----------+-------+-------------+ | | | | | | | | john, | | henry, earl, catherine, edward, | | | - , m. m. philip captain | mary, | elizab. dau. of stanhope, under sir | | ferdinando stanley, earl of walter | alethea earl of derby chesterfield raleigh, | | | =elizabeth hastings=, m. c. =john beaumont=, of grace-dieu, (master of the rolls, , d. ) | +----------------+-----------+ | | | francis, henry, elizabeth, c. - d. s. p. m. william the justice ld. vaux m. =anne pierrepoint= of harrowden | | | +------------+-----+--------+ | | | | | henry vaux, eleanor anne vaux | d. c. brookesby (_alias_ | (_alias_ mrs. perkins) | mrs. jennings) fl. | +----------+---+----------------------+-----------------+ | | | | sir henry, sir john, =francis=, elizabeth, m. d. - - , m. thomas seyliard, | ursula isley of kent | | +-----------+---------+ +---+-----+ | | | | | sir john, francis sir thomas elizabeth frances d. (a jesuit) table c. beaumont. pierrepoint. cavendish, talbot. sir william cavendish, sir george m. , elizabeth hardwick pierrepoint, (afterwards wife of george talbot, d. earl of shrewsbury) | | +------+-------+ +------+------+----+----+----+ | | | | | | | | =anne= sir henry | | | | | | =pierrepoint,= pierrepoint, == =frances= | | | | | b. c. ; - | =cavendish= | | | | | widow of thos. | | | | | | thorold of marston; robert elizabeth, | | | | m. ( ) =francis= pierrepoint, m. charles | | | | =beaumont=, - , stuart, | | | | the justice, earl of earl of | | | | d. kingston, lenox, bro. | | | | | m. gertrude, of henry | | | | +----+----+-----+ g-dau. of geo. darnley | | | | | | | | talbot, earl of | | | | | henry | | | shrewsbury | | | | | b. | | | | lady =arabella= | | | | | | | | =stuart= | | | | john | | | cousin of | | | | b. | | | james i. | | | | | | | henry, | | | =francis= | | m. grace | | | b. | | talbot, dau | | | | | of geo. . | | | elizabeth | earl of | | | b. | shrewsbury | | | | | | | +----------------------+ william, | | | | earl of | | henry pierepoint, william pierrepoint devonshire, | | - - in | | earl of kingston, | | | | marq. dorchester | william, | | robert, earl of kingston; - , | | m. elizab., dau. of sir earl of | | john evelyn devonshire; | | | m. christiana | | +-----------------------+ bruce of | | | | kinloss; | | william, earl of evelyn, earl of ancestor | | kingston kingston, of the present | | marq. dorchester; dukes of | | duke of kingston, devonshire | | | | | +---------------------+------+ charles, | | | of welbeck, | mary (lady mary wortley william, d. | montagu) - viscount newark | | | sir wm. | frances, cavendish, | m. philip meadows - . in | | , duke | charles, of newcastle | earl manvers, | of holme-pierrepoint mary, m. =gilbert= =talbot=, earl of shrewsbury (d. ) | +---------------+---+ | | mary, alethea, m. m. wm. herbert, thos. howard, earl earl pembroke of arundel : : present dks of norfolk table d beaumont, vaux, tresham, catesby john beaumont, grace-dieu, sir thomas m. elizabeth nicholas, tresham, hastings lord vaux grand prior, | of harrowden order of | ( ) st. john, +------+ | d. | | thomas, | anthony | | the poet, | catesby francis | lord vaux, john | beaumont, | b. tresham == eleanor d. | | | | | | +------+ | | =william=, | | | =elizabeth= == = lord vaux= == ( ) =mary= | sir robert | =beaumont= | d. | =tresham= | throckmorton | | | | | +-----+ +---+-+----+ | sir thomas +---+ john, | henry | | | tresham == dau. | - | | | | d. | | | | | | | dau. francis | | | +--------+----+ m. sir wm. - | | | =frances= | | catesby | | | =tresham=, | | | eleanor, | | the | | | m. edward | | conspirator, | | | brookesby; | | d. | | | fl. | | | | | | | elizabeth | | =anne vaux= | m. ld. | | (_alias_ mrs. | monteagle, | | perkins), | bro. of | | fl. | mrs. abington | | | | | +--------------------------------+ frances, | | | m. ld | | john, ld. ambrose stourton | | teynham | | | =robert= | +------------+ =catesby= george vaux, | | the conspirator d. , m. =elizabeth roper= | d. . the mrs. (elizabeth) vaux of | the gunpowder plot. | | joyce, +-------+----+ m. walter | | | hastings edward, | | | ld. vaux | | sir henry c. - | | hastings, | | m. elizabeth katherine, | beaumont m. henry | of coleorton nevill, ld. | abergavenny | | mary, ancestress of the present lord vaux table e fletcher, baker, sackville richard fletcher, vicar of sir john baker, cranbrooke, of sissinghurst, fl. - c. - | | +------+-----+ john giffard, of | | | weston-under-edge | dr. giles, richard, | +-----------+--------+ the diplomat; bp. of | | | | c. - london, m. ( ) =maria=, | cicely | | d. ; m. ( ) widow of | m. richard | +---+--+ elizabeth | sir =richard= sackville, | | | holland | =baker= ld. buckhurst, | phineas, | | no children d. earl of | - | | | dorset; | | =john fletcher=, | ( - ) | | the dramatist, | | | | - | robert | giles, | sackville | c. - | earl of | | dorset, | +-------------+------------+ d. | | | | | mary, m. grisogone sir richard cicely | john tufton, m. c. , baker (blunt) | of hothfield, sir henry | | who d. lennard (in sir henry +--------------+ | , lord | | | dacre, of richard edward | chevening earl of earl of | and knole) dorset, dorset, | c. - d. | | sir john tufton, bart., d. | +------------------+ | | anne tufton nicholas m. =francis= earl of =tresham=, thanet, who d. in index index (_the page-numbers refer to the foot-notes as well as to the main body of the text._) abington, mrs., the actress, abington (habington), mrs., sister of lord monteagle, _abuses stript and whipt_, actors, lists preceding plays, _ad comitissam rutlundiae_, addison, joseph, aeschylus, afterthought-parentheses, , _alchemist, the_, , , , , alden, r. m., editions of _the knight_ and _a king and no king_, , , , , , , , , , , alliteration, _all's well that ends well_, , , , , , _amadis de gaule_, , , _amends for ladies_, , , _anatomy of melancholy, the_, anton, robert, _antony and cleopatra_, , , , , _apocrypha, the_, apothegms, _arcadia_, , , , , , ariosto, aristophanes, , aronstein, p., ascham, roger, ashby-de-la-zouch, , , _et passim_ aston, sir walter, , _astrée_, d'urfé, - , 'astrophel,' _as you like it_, , , , aubrey, john, _brief lives_, ed., a. clark, , , , , bacon, sir francis, , , , f., , , _et passim_ bacon, sir nicholas, and anthony, , , baker, sir john of sissinghurst, kent, , ff.; cicely, countess of dorset, , , ; cicely, lady blunt, , ; grisogone, lady dacre, , , baker family, , baker, sir richard, , baker, richard, the historian, , bancroft, bishop, , bancroft, thomas, _two bookes of epigrammes and epitaphs, _, bandello, thomas, banke-side, - , , barkstead, william, _barrons wars, the_, basse, william, , , , _battle of bosworth field, the_, , ( ) baudouin, _le curieux impertinent_, beau manor, ; "beaumanoir," beaumont and fletcher, portraits of, - , - ; collaboration of (in general), - , - ; the problem, - ; critical apparatus, - ; folios, - , - ; quartos, - , and under individual plays; editions, , , , , , , , , , , , , ; delimitation of the field, - ; versification, - ; diction of fletcher, - , of beaumont, - ; mental habit of fletcher, - , of beaumont, - ; authorship of _foure playes_, _love's cure_, _the captaine_, - ; of the _woman-hater_, , ; of _the knight of the burning pestle_, , ; of _the coxcombe_, ; of _philaster_, ; of _the maides tragedy_, ; of _cupid's revenge_, ; of _a king and no king_, ; of the _scornful ladie_, ; influence upon shakespeare (?) , upon the drama, ; beaumont and fletcher compared, - beaumont, anthony, beaumont, barons and viscounts de, - beaumont's diction, ff. beaumont, elizabeth, lady vaux, , beaumont, elizabeth, sister of the dramatist, mrs. seyliard, , , , , , , beaumont, elizabeth, daughter of the dramatist, , beaumont, frances, posthumous daughter of the dramatist, ff. beaumont, francis, the dramatist: his family, early years in grace-dieu, oxford, ff.; at the inns of court, earliest poems, etc., ff.; the vaux cousins and the gunpowder plot, ff.; some early plays of, ff.; period of partnership with fletcher, ff.; relations with shakespeare, jonson, and others in the theatrical world, ff., ff., ff.; _the masque of the inner temple_, - ; the pastoralists, and other contemporaries at the inns of court, - ; an intersecting circle of jovial sort, - ; the countess of rutland (elizabeth sidney), ff.; his marriage, death, surviving family, ff.; personality and contemporary reputation, portraits, ff.; versification, ff., ff.; stock words, phrases, and figures, ff.; lines of inevitable poetry, ; his mental habit, ff.; his dramatic art, adaptation, etc., ff.; did the beaumont "romance" influence shakespeare? ff.; not a leader in decadence, - ; beaumont compared with fletcher, - ; and with other dramatists, - beaumont, francis, his _poems_, , , ff., - , , , , , , , beaumont, francis, the justice, father of the dramatist, - , , , beaumont, sir henry, brother of the dramatist, , , , , , beaumont, sir henry, of coleorton, , beaumont, sir john, brother of the dramatist, , , , , , , , - , - , - , , , , , , , - , , , , - , beaumont, john, master of the rolls, - , - beaumont, maria, lady villiers, countess of buckingham, , - beaumont, sir thomas, , beaumont's versification, ff. beeston's players, _beggers bush, the_, , , , bell, h. n., _bellman of london, the_, belvoir castle, berkenhead, john, betterton, thomas, _biographia dramatica, the_, birch, _mem. of q. elizabeth_, blackfriars theatre, the, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , blackwell's _treatise on equivocation_, blaiklock, lawrence, , , , , blue boar inn, boas, f. s., ed. of _philaster_, boccaccio, , , bolton, edmund, , bond, r. warwick, , , , ; ed. of _the scornful ladie_, _bonduca_, , , , , bosworth, battle of, , ( ) _bouleversements_, boyle, r., , , , , , , bread-street, , , brett, cyril, _drayton's minor poems_, _bridal, the_, _britain's ida_, phineas fletcher, _britannia's pastorals_, - broadgates, brome, richard, , , , brooke, christopher, , , , , - brookesby, bartholomew, , ; edward, browne, william, , , - , , , browning, robert, , brydges, egerton, buc, sir george, buckingham, george villiers, duke of, , , - , bullen, a. h., art. _john fletcher_ (d. n. b); gen. editor, _variorum beaumont and fletcher_, , , , , , _et passim_ burbadge, cuthbert, , , burbadge, richard, , , , , , , , , , burre, walter, , , , , burton, william, , _bury-fair_, , _bussy d'ambois_, butler, james, duke of ormonde, cadences, conversational and lyrical, caesurae, ff. _cambridge english classics_, edition of _beaumont and fletcher_, , - , _et passim_ camden, william, , , , _camden miscellany, the_, campion, father, _capricious lady, the_, _captaine, the_, , , , , , , , _cardenio_ or _cardenna_, , carey, giles, , , carleton, mistris, carr (ker) robert, earl of somerset, , , , cartwright, william, , casaubon, isaac, catesby, robert, , - , , catholics, and the "catholic cousins" of beaumont, ff., _catiline_, , , cavendish, henry, , cavendishes, the, , , , cavendish, sir william, first duke of newcastle, _centurie of praise_, cervantes, see _don quixote_ challoner, _missionary priests_, chalmers, a., , chamberlain, john, , , f. chancery, inns of, , , _et passim_; and see _inns of court_ _chances, the_, , , , , , , , , , , chapel players, the, chapman, george, , , , , , , , , , ff., , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , charles i, , _et passim_ charles ii, _charles, duke of byron, the tragedie of_, charles, prince of wales, , charnwood forest, , , , , , , , chaucer, geoffrey, _chaucer_, speght's, , cheapside, , , _et passim_ child, h. h., _"chorizontes," the_, _christ's victorie_, giles fletcher, cicely tufton, see rutland cinthio, clarendon, lord, clark, andrew, , , cleves wars, the, - , , clifford, anne, countess of dorset, of pembroke and montgomery, clifford's inn, clifton, sir gervase, clifton, lady penelope, f., , cockayne, sir aston, , , , , , coke, sir edward, , , , coleorton, , , , , _et passim_ coleridge, s. t., , collier, j. p., , , collins, _peerage of england_, , , , _et passim_ _comedy of errors, a_, , , , _commendatory verses_, , , , , _et passim_ _concerning the true forms of english poetry_, condell, henry, , , , , congreve, william, _convivium philosophicum_, - , conyoke or connock, cook, alexander, cooke, w., coke, sir edward, , corbet, bishop, , _coriolanus_, _coronation, the_, , coryate, tom, , cotton, charles, the elder, , - , - couplet, 'heroic,' cowley, abraham, _coxcombe, the_, , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , cranefield, arthur, critics of beaumont and fletcher, croke, sir john, charles, and unton, cromwell, oliver, , , _crowne of thornes, the_, cunliffe, j. w., , _cupid's revenge_, , - , , , , , , , , , , , , ff., , , , , , , , , , _curious impertinent, the_, _el curioso impertinente_, _le curieux impertinent_, , , _custome of the countrey, the_, _cymbeline_, , , - _cynthia's revels_, , _cyropædeia_, daborne, robert, , , , _damon and pythias_, daniel, joseph, daniel, p. a., , daniel, samuel, , darley, g., _works of beaumont and fletcher_, , , d'avenant, william, , , , davies, john, of hereford, , , , , , , , , , day, john, , , , , dekker, john, , , , , denham, sir john, _description of elizium_, drayton, devereux, lady penelope, diction, ff., f., ff., and see beaumont and fletcher diego sarmiento, don, count gondomar, ff. digby, sir everard, , , , , _discourse of the english stage_, disputed plays, ff. _distrest mother, the_, _divine poems_, drayton, dolce, ludovico, _giocasta_, don diego, see sarmiento de acuña donne, john, , , , , , _don quixote_, relation to _the knight of the burning pestle_, esp. - ; also , , , f., 'doridon,' ff. douay, douthwaite, w. r., _gray's inn, etc._, ff. _double marriage, the_, , drake, sir francis, , , , _dramatic miscellany_, davies, drayton, michael, , , , , , , , , , , , , ff., , , , , , , , , , , , drummond, william, of hawthornden, , , , , , , dryden, john, , , , , , , _duchess of malfi, the_, dugdale, g., duke, h. e., _gray's inn_, ff. _duke of milan, the_, duke of york, the, (prince charles's) players, , d'urfé, marquis, - , _dutch courtezan, the_, dyce, alexander, _works of beaumont and fletcher_, , , , , , _et passim_ earle, john, bishop, , - , , , , , _eastward hoe_, , , editions, also folios and quartos, see beaumont and fletcher edwardes, richard, edwards, jonathan, _eglogs_, a revision of _idea, the shepheard's garland_, drayton, , ekesildena, catherine, _elder brother, the_, , _elegies_, brooke, _(certayn) elegies--with satyres and epigrames_, fitzgeffrey, _elegy on the death of the virtuous lady elizabeth, countess of rutland_, , _elements of armories_, bolton, elizabeth beaumont seyliard, see beaumont, elizabeth elizabeth, countess of rutland, see sidney, elizabeth elizabeth, princess, , , , , , elizabeth, queen, elton, oliver, _michael drayton_, , , _endimion and phoebe_, end-stopped lines, ff. _english palmerin_, see _palmerin_ _epicoene_, , , , , , , _epigrams_, jonson, , , _epistle dedicatorie_, shelton, , _epistle to henery reynolds_, drayton, _epithalamium_, wither, _equivocation_, blackwell's treatise, _essay of dramatick poesie_, dryden, , _ethelwolf, oder der könig kein könig_, euripides, , , evans, henry, , , , evelyn, john, letter to pepys, _every man in his humour_, , _every man out of his humour_, , _examination of his mistris' perfections_, - extra syllables, _faire maide of the inne, the_, , , _faithful friends, the_, , _faithfull shepheardesse, the_, , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , _false one, the_, _(of the) famous voyage_, farquhar, george, fauchet, _thierry_, fawkes, guy, , , feet, trisyllabic, _fellows and followers of shakespeare, the_, gayley, , _et passim_; see gayley fenner, sir john, ferrar, william, _fidele and fortunio_, field, nathaniel, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , _fifty comedies and tragedies_, fitzgeffrey, henry, _elegies, satires, and epigrams_, fleay, f. g., _hist. stage, chron. engl. drama, etc._, , , , , , , , , , , , , , _et passim_ flecknoe, richard, , fletcher, john, ("i. f.") , ; his family, his youth, ff.; some early plays of, ff.; period of partnership with beaumont, ff.; relations with shakespeare, jonson, etc., ff., ff., ff.; later years, portraits, ff.; his versification, ff.; his diction, ff.; stock words, phrases, and figures, ff.; his mental habit, ff.; the fletcher of the joint-plays, ff.; his dramatic art, - , - fletcher, criteria, ff.; ff.; see beaumont and fletcher, diction, verse, ye-test, etc. fletcher, richard, bishop, - fletcher, dr. giles, , ; giles, the younger, fletcher, phineas, 'fletcherian syndicate, the,' , _flowers, the_, , folio, first, beaumont and fletcher's _comedies and tragedies_, , ( plays), folio, second, _fifty comedies and tragedies_, ( plays), ford, john, , _forrest, the_, jonson, fortescue, george, _foure playes, or morall representations, in one_, (see also _triumphs_), , , , , , - , , , , _foure prentises, the_, , frederick, the elector palatine, , , , fuller, thomas, _worthies_, , gardiner, robert, gardiner, s. r. _hist. engl._, and _prince charles_, , , , ff., _et passim_ gardiner, thomas, garnet, father henry, , - , - garrick, david, gascoigne, george, _supposes_, , , gayley, c. m., _the fellows and followers of shakespeare_, part two, in _rep. eng. com._, vol. iii, now in press, , , , , , _et passim_ _gentleman usher, the_, , gerard, father john, - , _ghost of richard iii_, brooke, giffard, maria, lady baker, mrs. fletcher, lady thornhurst, - gilbert, adrian, _giocasta_, ludovico dolce, _gismond of salerne_, globe theatre, the, , , , , , , , , , , glover, a, and waller, a. r., editors of _camb. engl. class., beaumont and fletcher_, , - , _et passim_ _golden remains, the_, goodere, sir henry, , ; francis, anne, goodwin, gordon, , _gorboduc_, , grace-dieu, , , , , , , , , , , , , , _et passim_ gray's inn, , , , , , , f. greene, robert, _menaphon and pandosto_, , , , _greenstreet papers, the_, , , , greg, w. w., , , , grey friars, at leicester, grey, lady jane, , , grosart, a. b., art. in _d. n. b., sir john beaumont's poems_, , , , , _et passim_ gunpowder plot, the, - , , , gurlin, nat., guskar, h., gwynn, nell, hakluyt, richard, halliwell-phillipps, j. o., _hamartia_, , _hamlet_, , , , , harcourt, the rt. hon. lewis, harleian ms. of fletcher, harington, sir john, , harris, john, hasted, _hist. kent_, , , , , _et passim_ hastings, edward, second lord, ; elizabeth (grandmother of the dramatist), , ; sir henry, , ; lady mary, ; william, first lord, , ; sir william, hastings, earls of huntingdon: george, first earl, , ; francis, second earl, - , , , ; henry, third earl, , ; george, fourth earl, ; henry, fifth earl, , , hatcher, o. l., _john fletcher, a study in dramatic method_, , , , , , , _et passim_; in _anglia_, hawkins, sir thomas, , hele, lewis, heming, john, , , , , , hemings, john, see heming _henry iv_, , _henry viii_, , herbert, mary, countess of pembroke, herbert, william, third earl of pembroke, , herford, c. h., herodotus, _heroical adventures of the knight of the sea_, herrick, robert, , , , herring, joan, _hesperides_, herrick, , heyward, edward, heywood, thomas, , , , , , _hierarchie of the blessed angells, the_, hill, h. w., hill, nicholas, hills, g., _histoire de celidée, thamyre, et calidon_, historical portraits (oxford), , ff. _histriomastix_, _history of cardenio_, by fletcher and shakespeare, hodgets, john, holinshed, holland, aaron, holland, elizabeth, , holland, hugh, , , holme-pierrepoint, , _(upon an) honest man's fortune_, , , , , , , , , hoskins, john, his _convivium philosophicum_, ff., , howard, henry, , howard of walden, lord, howe, josias, hughes, thomas, _misfortunes of arthur_, _humorous lieutenant, the_, , , , , , , - huntingdon, see hastings hyperbole, _hypercritica_, bolton, _idea, the shepheard's garland, eglogs_, drayton, _if you know not me, you know nobody_, _ile of guls_, imogen, innogen, inderwick, f. a., _calendar of inner temple records_, , , _et passim_ _in laudem authoris_, , inner temple, , , , , , ff., , , , , , _inner temple records_, - , , , _et passim_ inns of court and chancery, , , , , , , _et passim_ _insatiate countess, the_, _island princesse, the_, , isley, ursula, wife of the dramatist, - , , isleys, the, - , iteration, james i, progress of , , , , , , , , , , joint-plays, ff., ff., etc. jones, inigo, , , , jonson, ben, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ff., , , ff., , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , jovius, paulus, juby, edward, _julius caesar_, , ker (carr) robert, earl of somerset, , , , keysar, robert, , , , , , kinwelmersh, francis, king, edward, milton's 'lycidas,' _king and no king, a_, , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , - , , , , , _king lear_, , king's players, the, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , king's bench, kirkham, edward, , _knight of malta, the_, , , , , _knight of the burning pestle, the_, , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , _knight of the burning sword, the_, _knight of the sunne and his brother rosicleer, the_, knole park, kent, , , _et passim_ knowles, sheridan, koeppel, e., kyd, thomas, , , , , , lady elizabeth's players, lamb, charles, , langbaine, g., , lansdowne ms., _lawes of candy, the_, , , leland, john, _itinerary_, , , , , _et passim_ lennard, sir henry, twelfth lord dacre, , , leonhardt, b., _letter to ben jonson_, - , , , lincoln's inn, , f., , , , lisle, sir george, , , _little french lawyer, the_, lodge, thomas, , _love lies a-bleeding_, , etc., see _philaster_ lovell, john, lord, , _lovers progresse, the_, _loves cure_, , , , _love's labour's lost_, , _loves pilgrimage_, , , , lowin, john, , , _loyall subject, the_, , , , , , luce, morton, lyly, john, , macaulay, g. c., _francis beaumont, a critical study_; _beaumont and fletcher_ in _camb. hist. eng. lit._, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , _macbeth_, macready, w. c., _mad lover, the_, , _maide in the mill, the_, _maides tragedy, the_, , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , - , , , , , , , _malcontent, the_, malone, edmund, manners, lady katharine (villiers), duchess of buckingham, , , manners, roger, see rutland manningham, john, manverses, the, - manwood, thomas, _mari coccu, battu et content, le_, markham, lady, marlowe, christopher, , , , , , , , , , marston, john, , , , , , , , , martin, richard, , mary, queen of scots, , , _masque of the inner temple, the_, , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , _masque of flowers_, see _flowers_ _masque of ulysses and circe, the_, massinger, philip, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; authorities upon his style, mayne, jasper, mckerrow, r. b., , _measure for measure_, , , _menaechmus_, _menaphon_, merchant taylors' school, mermaid tavern, the, - , , , , , , _merry wives, the_, _metamorphosis of tobacco_, _microcosmographie_, middle temple, the, , f., middleton, thomas, , , , , , , , , , , _midsummer-night's dream, a_, milner, j. d., _mirror for magistrates, the_, _mirror of knighthood, the_, , 'mirtilla', , , _miseries of enforced marriage, the_, _misfortunes of arthur, the_, mitre inn, the, , , _monsieur thomas_, , , - , , , , , , , montaigne, montagu, lady mary wortley, monteagle, lord, , , montemayor, moore, sir thomas, more, paul elmer, f., f., ff., morris, john, _life of father gerard_, - _et passim_ mosely, humphrey, _the stationer to the readers_, , , , _morte d'arthur_, mountjoy, christopher, , _moyses in a map of his miracles_, _mucedorus_, _much ado about nothing_, , , , mulcaster, richard, , munday, anthony, murch, h. s., ed. of _the knight_, , murray, j. t., _eng. dram. comp._, , , , _muses elizium_, , , _narrative_ of father gerard, , nashe, thomas, , nevill, sir henry, the elder, - , ; the younger, , _nice valour, the_, , , , , , nichols, j., _collections_, _hist. leicestershire_, _progresses of queen elizabeth_, _progresses of james i_, , , , , , , _et passim_ _nimphalls_, drayton, , _night walker, the_, _noble gentleman, the_, , , northumbrian ms. of _bacon_, norton, thomas, _gorboduc_, oaths, , _oath of allegiance, the_, , _obstinate lady, the_, _ode to sir william skipworth_, oldfield, mrs., _old wives tale, the_, oliphant, e. h., , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , _on the tombs in westminster_, optatives, , _orlando furioso_, ostler (osteler, ostler, osler), wm., , , _othello_, , overbury, sir thomas, , , ovid, , , _palamon and arcite_, 'palmeo', , _palmerin de oliva, palmerin of england_, , , , _pandosto_, , _parisitaster_, pastoralists, the, , - , _pastorals_, ambrose philips, paul's players, the, , , , , , peele, george, , pepys, samuel, , , percy, thomas, - _pericles_, , , , , , , , persons, father, , pettus, sir john, _philaster_, , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , - , , _et passim_. philip iii of spain, , philips, sir ambrose, phillipps de lisles, the present, phillipps, j. o. halliwell, phillips, sir robert, _philosophia epicurea democritiana_, pierce, edward, pierrepoint, anne, mother of the dramatist, - , pierrepoint, sir henry, , , pierrepoint, robert, first earl of kingston, , , , , _pilgrim, the_, , plautus, , , _plutus_, _poems, the_, of beaumont, see beaumont, francis, _the poems_ _poems lyrick and pastoral_, drayton, _poetaster, the_, , poets' corner, ff., , , pole, katherine, portraits of beaumont, nuneham, , , ; robinson's engraving of , , ; knole, , , ; g. vertue, ; evans, ; walker and cockerell, portraits of fletcher, knole: blood, ; g. vertue, ; evans, ; robinson, ; walker, ; earl of clarendon's, ; janssen, 'prince of misrule', 'prince of portpoole', prince's players, the, _praise of hemp-seed, the_, princess elizabeth's players, _prophetesse, the_, prose-test, the, prynne, william, , _purple island, the_, phineas fletcher, queen anne's players, , _queene of corinth, the_, , queen henrietta's players, queen's revels' children, the, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , - , raleigh, sir walter, , , , , , , randolph, thomas, red bull theatre, the, , 'remond' and 'doridon,' query, fletcher and beaumont, - _revesby sword-play_, reynolds, henry, , reynolds, john, rhyme, '_ricardo and viola_,' , richard iii, , rigg, j. m., ff., _rollo_, 'romance,' , , _et passim_ _romeo and juliet_, , _rosalynde_, rosenbach, a. s. w., rossiter, philip, , , , , routh, h. v., rowley, william, , , , , , _royall king and loyall subject_, _rule a wife and have a wife_, , , , , , , , , , run-on lines, , , , ff., ff. rutland, roger manners, fifth earl, , - ; francis, sixth earl, , ; elizabeth, countess of, see sidney, elizabeth; cicely (tufton), countess of, rymer, thomas, , , , sackville, edward, fourth earl of dorset, sackville, lionel, seventh earl of dorset, , sackville, richard, third earl of dorset, , , , sackville, thomas, first earl of dorset, , - _salmacis and hermaphroditus_, , , , , , sampson, m. w., sannazarro, sarmiento de acuña, don diego, count gondomar, - schelling, f. e., , schevill, rudolph, f., , , _scornful ladie, the_, , , - , , , , , , , , , - , , , _scourge of folly, the_, , , , _sea voyage, the_, '_second maiden's tragedy_,' _sejanus_, , selden, john, , , , , semphill, sir james, - seneca, _session of the poets, the_, suckling, seyliard, mrs., see elizabeth beaumont seyliard, thomas, , , , ; see also beaumont, elizabeth shadwell, thomas, shakespeare, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ff., , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ff., ff., , , , ff. shakespeare, and beaumont, - shakespeare, and his company of players, - , - , , shakespeare, was he influenced by beaumont and fletcher? - shaw, _knights of england_, , , _et passim_ shelton, thomas, transl. of _don quixote_, , - , _shepheard's calendar_, _shepherdesse, the_, john beaumont, , _shepherd's hunting, the_, _shepherd's pipe, the_, , , shirley, james, , , , _sicelides_, phineas fletcher, sidney, elizabeth manners, countess of rutland, , , - , , - , , sidney, sir philip, , , , , , , , ff., , , , , , sidney, mary herbert, countess of pembroke, , , _silent woman, the_, , , see _epicoene_ skipwith, sir william, , , _spanish curate, the_, , slye, christopher, smith, l. t., , southampton, see wriothesley spedding, james, speght's _chaucer_, , spenser, edmund, , , , , , stanhope, philip, earl of chesterfield, stanley, thomas, second earl of derby, stanley, thomas, , stapleton, miles thomas, _state papers domestic, calendar of_, , - , , , , , , , , _et passim_ _stationers' registers_, , , , _et passim_ _stationer to the readers, the_, mosely, 'stella', stephens, john, stiefel, a. l., stourton, lord, stratford upon avon, stuart, lady arabella, , suckling, sir john, sullivan, mary, , sundridge, - , , _et passim_ _supposes, the_, ariosto--george gascoigne, , suspense, symonds, j. a., swinburne, algernon, , , , , , sympson and seward, talbots, the, earls of shrewsbury, , _tamer tamed, the_, , , , _et passim_, _the woman's prize_ _taming of the shrew, the_, , tasso, _aminta_, taylor, john, taylor, joseph, , , , ff., _tempest, the_, , , , , , , , tennyson, alfred, theobald, lewis, , _thersites_, _thierry and theodoret_, , , , , , , , , thorndike, a. h., _influence of beaumont and fletcher on shakespeare_, editions of _maides tragedy_ and _philaster_, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , f. thornhurst, sir stephen, 'thyrsis,' , _time poets, the_, _timon_, _'tis a pity, she's a whore_, _titles of honour_, _tombs in westminster, on the_, _to the apparition of his mistresse calling him to elizium_, _to the honour'd countess of ----_, _to the memory of my beloved, the author, mr. william shakespeare, and what he hath left us_, tourneur, cyril, townshend, sir robert, _tragedies of the last age, the_, _tragedy of bonduca, the_, see _bonduca_ _travails of three english brothers, the_, , , , , , , , tresham, francis, , , , , tresham, mary, tresham, sir thomas, triplet, the, _triumph of death, the_, , - , _triumph of honour, the_, , - , _triumph of love, the_, , , - , _triumph of time, the_, , - _true tragedy of richard, duke of york, the_, _(on the) true forms of english poetry_, _twelfth night_, , , , , , _two gentlemen of verona, the_, , , , _two noble kinsmen, the_, , , underwood, john, , upham, a. h., _upon an honest man's fortune_, see _honest man's fortune_ _upon the lines and life of shakespeare_, hugh holland, _(tragedy of) valentinian, the_, , , , , , , vanbrugh, sir john, _variorum edition of beaumont and fletcher_, , , , , , , , _et passim_ vaux, anne, _alias_ mrs. perkins, - , _passim_, vaux, eleanor, _alias_ mrs. jennings, , , vaux, mrs., elizabeth roper, - , , vauxes, the, cousins of the dramatist, and the gunpowder plot, - , f. verse-endings, double, triple, etc., verse-tests, ff., ff. versification of fletcher and of beaumont, - _very woman, a_, villiers, christopher, , villiers, george, duke of buckingham, , , , - , villiers, john, - , _volpone_, , , , von wurzbach, wolfgang, walker, henry, walkley, thomas, wallace, c. w., _shakspere's money interest in the globe_, etc., _century maga._, , , , , , waller, a. r., and glover, a., editors of _camb. eng. class., beaumont and fletcher_, , _et passim_; waller, ed. of _the scornful ladie_, waller, edmund, , , , , , walpole, henry, , ward, sir adolphus william, _hist. eng. dram. lit._, , , , , , , warwick, richard, earl of, webster, john, , , , , , wenman, sir richard, , wenman, thomas, , , west, john, _white devil, the_, , whitefriars theatre, the, f., f., , , , , , , whitehall, f. white webbs, , _wife for a month, a_, , , , , , - , _wild-goose chase, the_, _dedication_, , , wilkins, george, , , wills, james, wilson, arthur, winter, henry and thomas, - , _winter's tale, the_, , , , , , , , , _wit at severall weapons_, , , wither, george, f., , _wit without money_, , _woman-hater, the_, , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , _woman is a weather-cocke_, , - _woman's prize, the_, or _the tamer tamed_, , , _(to any) woman that hath been no weather-cocke_, _women pleas'd_, , wood, anthony, wordsworth, w., , , wright, christopher and john, - wright, thomas, wriothesley, henry, third earl of southampton, , wyatt, sir thomas, xenophon's _cyropædeia_, ye-test, the - , , , - _yorkshire tragedy, the_, _your five gallants_, zola, * * * * * transcriber's note: minor punctuation and capitalization inconsistencies have been corrected without comment and include adding missing opening or closing quotes, closing parenthesis, and sentence closing periods. tables of family trees on pages - have been formatted to fit into the page margins. images falling within an unbroken paragraph have been relocated to either the top or bottom of said paragraph. word spelling, hyphenation, abbreviation, capitalization, apostrophization, diacritical accents and other variations or inconsistencies occur throughout the authors text, footnotes, index, noted verse(s) and quoted materials. all have been retained as printed unless specifically noted. examples are provided below. typographical corrections: p. , "holme-pierpoint" to "holme-pierrepoint" ( ) (holme-pierrepoint is seventeen) p. , "huntington" to "huntingdon" ( ) (francis of huntingdon) p. , "clerygyman" to "clergyman" (had been a clergyman) p. , "worldy" to "worldly" (bishop's worldly estate) p. , "aven" to "avon" ( ) (stratford upon avon) p. , "beaument" to "beaumont" ( ) (john beaumont never recalls) p. , "gentleman" to "gentlemen" (the two gentlemen of verona) p. , " " to " " ("woman is a weather-cocke," , - ) p. , "kinsman" to "kinsmen" (two noble kinsmen, the) p. , "cycropædeia" to "cyropædeia" (xenophon's cyropædeia) possible typographical errors retained in text; falling within quoted material: p. , "lived in her highnes," (highness) p. , "it was no ofspring" (offspring) p. , "drammatick and scenical king" (dramatick) p. , "... excellent maister beamont" (beaumont) p. , "... francis beamont" (beaumont) p. , "flesher and beaumont" (fletcher) p. , "the faithfull shipheardesse" (shepheardesse) p. , "abigal," (abigail) p. , "cavendishes" (cavendishs') (in index) several instances of "middle english spellings" used are: "maiesties" (middle english) and "majesties," and "doe, se, yt, yn, y'll" and "do, see, it, in, i'll" play title variations, each of which appears several times: "aeschylus" and "Æschylus" "amadis de gaule" and "amadis de gaul" "beggars' bush" and "beggars bush" "... curious coxcombe" and "... curious cox-combe" "duchess of malfi" and "duchess of malfy" "julius ceasar" and "julius cæsar" "maid's tragedy", "maids tragedy", "maides tragedy" "maske of the gentleman of grayes inne" and "maske of the gentlemen of grayes inne". "morall representations" and "moralle representations" "parisitaster" and "parasitaster" "essay of dramatick poesie" and "essay on dramatick poesy" "the scornful lady" and "the scornful ladie" "the shepheardesse" and "the shepheardess" "the coxcomb" and "the coxcombe" "weather-cocke" and "weather-cocke" "women pleas'd" and "women pleased" other word variations: "zouch" and "zouche" (ashby-de-la-----) "bedchamber" and "bed-chamber" "birthright" and "birth-right" "cal, s. p.," "cal. st. pa., dom.," "calendar of state papers (domestic)" (see footnotes) "condel" and "condell" (henry ----) "countryside" and "country-side" "d'urfey" and d'urfé (marquis ----) "hoskyns" and "hoskins" (serjeant ----) "milkmaid" and "milk-maid" (both occur on p. ) "northwest" and "north-west" "pierepoint" and "pierrepoint" "sannazzaro" and "sannazarro" "shepherdesse" and "shepheardesse" "sempill" and "semphill" (sir james ----) "southeast" and "south-east" "white-hall" and "whitehall" words using the [oe] ligature which has been changed to "oe" in this e-text: manoeuvere, manoeuvered, manoeuvers. memoirs of the life of the rt. hon. richard brinsley sheridan by thomas moore in two volumes vol. i. to george bryan, esq., this work is inscribed, by his sincere and affectionate friend, thomas moore. preface. the first four chapters of this work were written nearly seven years ago. my task was then suspended during a long absence from england; and it was only in the course of the last year that i applied myself seriously to the completion of it. to my friend, mr. charles sheridan, whose talents and character reflect honor upon a name, already so distinguished, i am indebted for the chief part of the materials upon which the following memoirs of his father are founded. i have to thank him, not only for this mark of confidence, but for the delicacy with which, though so deeply interested in the subject of my task, he has refrained from all interference with the execution of it:--neither he, nor any other person, beyond the printing-office, having ever read a single sentence of the work. i mention this, in order that the responsibility of any erroneous views or indiscreet disclosures, with which i shall be thought chargeable in the course of these pages, may not be extended to others, but rest solely with myself. the details of mr. sheridan's early life were obligingly communicated to me by his younger sister, mrs. lefanu, to whom, and to her highly gifted daughter, i offer my best thanks for the assistance which they have afforded me. the obligations, of a similar nature, which i owe to the kindness of mr. william linley, doctor bain, mr. burgess, and others, are acknowledged, with due gratitude, in my remarks on their respective communications. contents to vol. i. chapter i. birth and education of mr. sheridan.--his first attempts in literature. chapter ii. duels with mr. mathews.--marriage with miss linley chapter iii. domestic circumstances.--fragments of essays found among his papers.-- comedy of "the rivals."--answer to "taxation no tyranny."--farce of "st. patrick's day." chapter iv. the duenna.--purchase of drury-lane theatre.--the trip to scarborough.-- poetical correspondence with mrs. sheridan chapter v. the school for scandal chapter vi. further purchase of theatrical property.--monody to the memory of garrick.--essay on metre.--the critic.--essay on absentees.--political connections.--"the englishman."--elected for stafford chapter vii. unfinished plays and poems chapter viii. his first speeches in parliament.--rockingham administration.-- coalition.--india bill.--re-election for stafford chapter ix. the prince of wales.--financial measures.--mr. pitt's east india bill.-- irish commercial propositions.--plan of the duke of richmond.--sinking fund. chapter x. charges against mr. hastings.--commercial treaty with france.--debts of the prince of wales. chapter i. birth and education of mr. sheridan.--his first attempts in literature. richard brinsley [footnote: he was christened also by the name of butler, after the earl of lanesborough.] sheridan was born in the month of september, , at no. , dorset street, dublin, and baptized in st. mary's church, as appears by the register of the parish, on the fourth of the following month. his grandfather, dr. sheridan, and his father, mr. thomas sheridan, have attained a celebrity, independent of that which he has conferred on them, by the friendship and correspondence with which the former was honored by swift, and the competition and even rivalry which the latter so long maintained with garrick. his mother, too, was a woman of considerable talents, and affords one of the few instances that have occurred, of a female indebted for a husband to her literature; as it was a pamphlet she wrote concerning the dublin theatre that first attracted to her the notice of mr. thomas sheridan. her affecting novel, sidney biddulph, could boast among its warm panegyrists mr. fox and lord north; and in the tale of nourjahad she has employed the graces of eastern fiction to inculcate a grave and important moral,--putting on a fairy disguise, like her own mandane, to deceive her readers into a taste for happiness and virtue. besides her two plays, the discovery and the dupe,--the former of which garrick pronounced to be "one of the best comedies he ever read,"--she wrote a comedy also, called the trip to bath, which was never either acted or published, but which has been supposed by some of those sagacious persons, who love to look for flaws in the titles of fame, to have passed, with her other papers, into the possession of her son, and, after a transforming sleep, like that of the chrysalis, in his hands, to have taken wing at length in the brilliant form of the rivals. the literary labors of her husband were less fanciful, but not, perhaps, less useful, and are chiefly upon subjects connected with education, to the study and profession of which he devoted the latter part of his life. such dignity, indeed, did his favorite pursuit assume in his own eyes, that he is represented (on the authority, however, of one who was himself a schoolmaster) to have declared, that "he would rather see his two sons at the head of respectable academies, than one of them prime minister of england, and the other at the head of affairs in ireland." at the age of seven years, richard brinsley sheridan was, with his elder brother, charles francis, placed under the tuition of mr. samuel whyte, of grafton street, dublin,--an amiable and respectable man, who, for near fifty years after, continued at the head of his profession in that metropolis. to remember our school-days with gratitude and pleasure, is a tribute at once to the zeal and gentleness of our master, which none ever deserved more truly from his pupils than mr. whyte, and which the writer of these pages, who owes to that excellent person all the instructions in english literature he has ever received, is happy to take this opportunity of paying. the young sheridans, however, were little more than a year under his care--and it may be consoling to parents who are in the first crisis of impatience, at the sort of hopeless stupidity which some children exhibit, to know, that the dawn of sheridan's intellect was as dull and unpromising as its meridian day was bright; and that in the year , he who, in less than thirty years afterwards, held senates enchained by his eloquence and audiences fascinated by his wit, was, by common consent both of parent and preceptor, pronounced to be "a most impenetrable dunce." from mr. whyte's school the boys were removed to england, where mr. and mrs. sheridan had lately gone to reside, and in the year richard was sent to harrow--charles being kept at home as a fitter subject for the instructions of his father, who, by another of those calculations of poor human foresight, which the deity, called eventus by the romans, takes such wanton pleasure in falsifying, considered his elder son as destined to be the brighter of the two brother stars. at harrow, richard was remarkable only as a very idle, careless, but, at the same time, engaging boy, who contrived to win the affection, and even admiration of the whole school, both masters and pupils, by the mere charm of his frank and genial manners, and by the occasional gleams of superior intellect, which broke through all the indolence and indifference of his character. harrow, at this time, possessed some peculiar advantages, of which a youth like sheridan might have powerfully availed himself. at the head of the school was doctor robert sumner, a man of fine talents, but, unfortunately, one of those who have passed away without leaving any trace behind, except in the admiring recollection of their contemporaries. his taste is said to have been of a purity almost perfect, combining what are seldom seen together, that critical judgment which is alive to the errors of genius, with the warm sensibility that deeply feels its beauties. at the same period, the distinguished scholar, dr. parr, who, to the massy erudition of a former age, joined all the free and enlightened intelligence of the present, was one of the under masters of the school; and both he and dr. sumner endeavored, by every method they could devise, to awaken in sheridan a consciousness of those powers which, under all the disadvantages of indolence and carelessness, it was manifest to them that he possessed. but remonstrance and encouragement were equally thrown away upon the good- humored but immovable indifference of their pupil; and though there exist among mr. sheridan's papers some curious proofs of an industry in study for which few have ever given him credit, they are probably but the desultory efforts of a later period of his life, to recover the loss of that first precious time, whose susceptibility of instruction, as well as of pleasure, never comes again. one of the most valuable acquisitions he derived from harrow was that friendship, which lasted throughout his life, with dr. parr,--which mutual admiration very early began, and the "_idem sentire de re publica_" of course not a little strengthened. as this learned and estimable man has, within the last few weeks, left a void in the world which will not be easily filled up, i feel that it would be unjust to my readers not to give, in his own words, the particulars of sheridan's school-days, with which he had the kindness to favor me, and to which his name gives an authenticity and interest too valuable on such a subject to be withheld: "hatton, august , . "dear sir, "with the aid of a scribe i sit down to fulfil my promise about mr. sheridan. there was little in his boyhood worth communication. he was inferior to many of his school-fellows in the ordinary business of a school, and i do not remember any one instance in which he distinguished himself by latin or english composition, in prose or verse. [footnote: it will be seen, however, though dr. parr was not aware of the circumstance, that sheridan did try his talent at english verse before he left harrow.] nathaniel halhed, one of his school-fellows, wrote well in latin and greek. richard archdall, another school-fellow, excelled in english verse. richard sheridan aspired to no rivalry with either of them. he was at the uppermost part of the fifth form, but he never reached the sixth, and, if i mistake not, he had no opportunity of attending the most difficult and the most honorable of school business, when the greek plays were taught--and it was the custom at harrow to teach these at least every year. he went through his lessons in horace, and virgil, and homer well enough for a time. but, in the absence of the upper master, doctor sumner, it once fell in my way to instruct the two upper forms, and upon calling up dick sheridan, i found him not only slovenly in construing, but unusually defective in his greek grammar. knowing him to be a clever fellow, i did not fail to probe and to tease him. i stated his case with great good-humor to the upper master, who was one of the best tempered men in the world; and it was agreed between us, that richard should be called oftener and worked more severely. the varlet was not suffered to stand up in his place; but was summoned to take his station near the master's table, where the voice of no prompter could reach him; and, in this defenceless condition, he was so harassed, that he at last gathered up some grammatical rules, and prepared himself for his lessons. while this tormenting process was inflicted upon him, i now and then upbraided him. but you will take notice that he did not incur any corporal punishment for his idleness: his industry was just sufficient to protect him from disgrace. all the while sumner and i saw in him vestiges of a superior intellect. his eye, his countenance, his general manner, were striking. his answers to any common question were prompt and acute. we knew the esteem, and even admiration, which, somehow or other, all his school-fellows felt for him. he was mischievous enough, but his pranks were accompanied by a sort of vivacity and cheerfulness, which delighted sumner and myself. i had much talk with him about his apple-loft, for the supply of which all the gardens in the neighborhood were taxed, and some of the lower boys were employed to furnish it. i threatened, but without asperity, to trace the depredators, through his associates, up to their leader. he with perfect good-humor set me at defiance, and i never could bring the charge home to him. all boys and all masters were pleased with him. i often praised him as a lad of great talents,--often exhorted him to use them well; but my exhortations were fruitless. i take for granted that his taste was silently improved, and that he knew well the little which he did know. he was removed from school too soon by his father, who was the intimate friend of sumner, and whom i often met at his house. sumner had a fine voice, fine ear, fine taste, and, therefore, pronunciation was frequently the favorite subject between him and tom sheridan. i was present at many of their discussions and disputes, and sometimes took a very active part in them,--but richard was not present. the father, you know, was a wrong-headed, whimsical man, and, perhaps, his scanty circumstances were one of the reasons which prevented him from sending richard to the university. he must have been aware, as sumner and i were, that richard's mind was not cast in any ordinary mould. i ought to have told you that richard, when a boy, was a great reader of english poetry; but his exercises afforded no proof of his proficiency. in truth, he, as a boy, was quite careless about literary fame. i should suppose that his father, without any regular system, polished his taste, and supplied his memory with anecdotes about our best writers in our augustan age. the grandfather, you know, lived familiarly with swift. i have heard of him, as an excellent scholar. his boys in ireland once performed a greek play, and when sir william jones and i were talking over this event, i determined to make the experiment in england. i selected some of my best boys, and they performed the oedipus tyrannus, and the trachinians of sophocles. i wrote some greek iambics to vindicate myself from the imputation of singularity, and grieved i am that i did not keep a copy of them. milton, you may remember, recommends what i attempted. "i saw much of sheridan's father after the death of sumner, and after my own removal from harrow to stanmer. i respected him,--he really liked me, and did me some important services,--but i never met him and richard together. i often inquired about richard, and, from the father's answers, found they were not upon good terms,--but neither he nor i ever spoke of his son's talents but in terms of the highest praise." in a subsequent letter dr. parr says: "i referred you to a passage in the gentleman's magazine, where i am represented as discovering and encouraging in richard sheridan those intellectual powers which had not been discovered and encouraged by sumner. but the statement is incorrect. we both of us discovered talents, which neither of us could bring into action while sheridan was a school-boy. he gave us few opportunities of praise in the course of his school business, and yet he was well aware that we thought highly of him, and anxiously wished more to be done by him than he was disposed to do. "i once or twice met his mother,--she was quite celestial. both her virtues and her genius were highly esteemed by robert sumner. i know not whether tom sheridan found richard tractable in the art of speaking,-- and, upon such a subject, indolence or indifference would have been resented by the father as crimes quite inexpiable. one of richard's sisters now and then visited harrow, and well do i remember that, in the house where i lodged, she triumphantly repeated dryden's ode upon st. cecilia's day, according to the instruction given to her by her father. take a sample: _none_ but the brave, none but the _brave_, none _but_ the brave deserve the fair. whatever may have been the zeal or the proficiency of the sister, naughty richard, like gallio, seemed to care naught for these things. "in the later periods of his life richard did not cast behind him classical reading. he spoke copiously and powerfully about cicero. he had read, and he had understood, the four orations of demosthenes, read and taught in our public schools. he was at home in virgil and in horace. i cannot speak positively about homer,--but i am very sure that he read the iliad now and then; not as a professed scholar would do, critically, but with all the strong sympathies of a poet reading a poet. [footnote: it was not one of the least of the triumphs of sheridan's talent to have been able to persuade so acute a scholar as dr. parr, that the extent of his classical acquirements was so great as is here represented, and to have thus impressed with the idea of his remembering so much, the person who best knew how little he had learned.] richard did not, and could not forget what he once knew, but his path to knowledge was his own,--his steps were noiseless,--his progress was scarcely felt by himself,--his movements were rapid but irregular. "let me assure you that richard, when a boy, was by no means vicious. the sources of his infirmities were a scanty and precarious allowance from the father, the want of a regular plan for some profession, and, above all, the act of throwing him upon the town, when he ought to have been pursuing his studies at the university. he would have done little among mathematicians at cambridge;--he would have been a rake, or an idler, or a trifler, at dublin;--but i am inclined to think that at oxford he would have become an excellent scholar. "i have now told you all that i know, and it amounts to very little. i am very solicitous for justice to be done to robert sumner. he is one of the six or seven persons among my own acquaintance whose taste i am accustomed to consider perfect, and, were he living, his admiration...." [footnote: the remainder of the letter relates to other subjects.] during the greater part of richard's stay at harrow his father had been compelled, by the embarrassment of his affairs, to reside with the remainder of the family in france, and it was at blois, in the september of , that mrs. sheridan died--leaving behind her that best kind of fame, which results from a life of usefulness and purity, and which it requires not the aid of art or eloquence to blazon. she appears to have been one of those rare women, who, united to men of more pretensions, but less real intellect than themselves, meekly conceal this superiority even from their own hearts, and pass their lives without remonstrance or murmur, in gently endeavoring to repair those evils which the indiscretion or vanity of their partners has brought upon them. as a supplement to the interesting communication of dr. parr, i shall here subjoin an extract from a letter which the eldest sister of sheridan, mrs. e. lefanu, wrote a few months after his death to mrs. sheridan, in consequence of a wish expressed by the latter that mrs. lefanu would communicate such particulars as she remembered of his early days. it will show, too, the feeling which his natural good qualities, in spite of the errors by which they were obscured and weakened, kept alive to the last, in the hearts of those connected with him, that sort of retrospective affection, which, when those whom we have loved become altered, whether in mind or person, brings the recollection of what they once were, to mingle with and soften our impression of what they are. after giving an account of the residence of the family in france, she continues: "we returned to england, when i may say i first became acquainted with my brother--for faint and imperfect were my recollections of him, as might be expected from my age. i saw him; and my childish attachment revived with double force. he was handsome, not merely in the eyes of a partial sister, but generally allowed to be so. his cheeks had the glow of health; his eyes,--the finest in the world,-- the brilliancy of genius, and were soft as a tender and affectionate heart could render them. the same playful fancy, the same sterling and innoxious wit, that was shown afterwards in his writings, cheered and delighted the family circle. i admired--i almost adored him. i would most willingly have sacrificed my life for him, as i, in some measure, proved to him at bath, where we resided for some time, and where events that you must have heard of engaged him in a duel. my father's displeasure threatened to involve me in the denunciations against him, for committing what he considered as a crime. yet i risked everything, and in the event was made happy by obtaining forgiveness for my brother.... you may perceive, dear sister, that very little indeed have i to say on a subject so near your heart, and near mine also. that for years i lost sight of a brother whom i loved with unabated affection--a love that neither absence nor neglect could chill--i always consider as a great misfortune." on his leaving harrow, where he continued till near his eighteenth year, he was brought home by his father, who, with the elder son, charles, had lately returned from france, and taken a house in london. here the two brothers for some time received private tuition from mr. lewis kerr, an irish gentleman, who had formerly practised as a physician, but having, by loss of health, been obliged to give up his profession, supported himself by giving lessons in latin and mathematics. they attended also the fencing and riding schools of mr. angelo, and received instructions from their father in english grammar and oratory. of this advantage, however, it is probable, only the elder son availed himself, as richard, who seems to have been determined to owe all his excellence to nature alone, was found as impracticable a pupil at home as at school. but, however inattentive to his studies he may have been at harrow, it appears, from one of the letters of his school-fellow, mr. halhed, that in poetry, which is usually the first exercise in which these young athletae of intellect try their strength, he had already distinguished himself; and, in conjunction with his friend halhed, had translated the seventh idyl, and many of the lesser poems of theocritus. this literary partnership was resumed soon after their departure from harrow. in the year , when halhed was at oxford, and sheridan residing with his father at bath, they entered into a correspondence, (of which, unluckily, only halhed's share remains,) and, with all the hope and spirit of young adventurers, began and prosecuted a variety of works together, of which none but their translation of aristaenetus ever saw the light. there is something in the alliance between these boys peculiarly interesting. their united ages, as halhed boasts in one of his letters, did not amount to thirty-eight. they were both abounding in wit and spirits, and as sanguine as the consciousness of talent and youth could make them; both inspired with a taste for pleasure, and thrown upon their own resources for the means of gratifying it; both carelessly embarking, without rivalry or reserve, their venture of fame in the same bottom, and both, as halhed discovered at last, passionately in love with the same woman. it would have given me great pleasure to have been enabled to enliven my pages with even a few extracts from that portion of their correspondence, which, as i have just mentioned, has fallen into my hands. there is in the letters of mr. halhed a fresh youthfulness of style, and an unaffected vivacity of thought, which i question whether even his witty correspondent could have surpassed. as i do not, however, feel authorized to lay these letters before the world, i must only avail myself of the aid which their contents supply towards tracing the progress of his literary partnership with sheridan, and throwing light on a period so full of interest in the life of the latter. their first joint production was a farce, or rather play, in three acts, called "jupiter," written in imitation of the burletta of midas, whose popularity seems to have tempted into its wake a number of these musical parodies upon heathen fable. the amour of jupiter with _major_ amphitryon's wife, and _sir richard_ ixion's courtship of juno, who substitutes _miss peggy nubilis_ in her place, form the subject of this ludicrous little drama, of which halhed furnished the burlesque scenes,--while the form of a rehearsal, into which the whole is thrown, and which, as an anticipation of "the critic" is highly curious, was suggested and managed entirely by sheridan. the following extracts will give some idea of the humor of this trifle; and in the character of simile the reader will at once discover a sort of dim and shadowy pre- existence of puff:-- "_simile._ sir, you are very ignorant on the subject,--it is the method most in vogue. "_o'cul._ what! to make the music first, and then make the sense to it afterwards! "_sim._ just so. "_monop._ what mr. simile says is very true, gentlemen; and there is nothing surprising in it, if we consider now the general method of writing _plays to scenes._ "_o'cul._ writing _plays to scenes_!--oh, you are joking. "_monop._ not i, upon my word. mr. simile knows that i have frequently a complete set of scenes from italy, and then i have nothing to do but to get some ingenious hand to write a play to them. "_sim._ i am your witness, sir. gentlemen, you perceive you know nothing about these matters. "_o'cul._ why, mr. simile, i don't pretend to know much relating to these affairs, but what i think is this, that in this method, according to your principles, you must often commit blunders. "_sim._ blunders! to be sure i must, but i always could get myself out of them again. why, i'll tell you an instance of it.--you must know i was once a journeyman sonnet-writer to signor squallini. now, his method, when seized with the _furor harmonicus_, was constantly to make me sit by his side, while he was thrumming on his harpsichord, in order to make extempore verses to whatever air he should beat out to his liking. i remember, one morning, as he was in this situation, _thrum, thrum, thrum, (moving his fingers as if beating on the harpsichord,)_ striking out something prodigiously great, as he thought,--'hah!' said he,--'hah! mr. simile, _thrum, thrum, thrum,_ by gar here is vary fine,--_thrum, thrum, thrum_, write me some words directly.'--i durst not interrupt him to ask on what subject, so instantly began to describe a fine morning. "'calm was the land and calm the seas, and calm the heaven's dome serene, hush'd was the gale and hush'd the breeze, and not a vapor to be seen.' i sang it to his notes,--'hah! upon my vord vary pritt,--_thrum, thrum, thrum,_--stay, stay,--_thrum, thrum,_--hoa? upon my vord, here it must be an adagio,--_thrum, thrum,_--oh! let it be an _ode to melancholy.'_ "_monop._ the devil!--there you were puzzled sure. "_sim._ not in the least,--i brought in a _cloud_ in the next stanza, and matters, you see, came about at once. "_monop._ an excellent transition. " _o'cul._ vastly ingenious indeed. "_sim._ was it not? hey! it required a little command,--a little presence of mind,--but i believe we had better proceed. "_monop._ the sooner the better,--come, gentlemen, resume your seats. "_sim._ now for it. draw up the curtain, and _(looking at his book)_ enter sir richard ixion,--but stay,--zounds, sir richard ought to overhear jupiter and his wife quarrelling,--but, never mind,--these accidents have spoilt the division of my piece.--so enter sir richard, and look as cunning as if you had overheard them. now for it, gentlemen,--you can't be too attentive. "_enter_ sir richard ixion _completely dressed, with bag, sword, &c._ "_ix._ 'fore george, at logger-heads,--a lucky minute, 'pon honor, i may make my market in it. dem it, my air, address, and mien must touch her, now out of sorts with him,--less god than butcher. o rat the fellow,--where can all his sense lie, to gallify the lady so immensely? ah! _le grand bete qu'il est!_--how rude the bear is! the world to two-pence he was ne'er at _paris_. perdition stop my vitals,--now or never i'll niggle snugly into juno's favor. let's see,--(_looking in a glass_) my face,--toll loll-- 'twill work upon her. my person--oh, immense, upon my honor. my eyes,--oh fie.--the naughty glass it flatters,-- courage,--ixion flogs the world to tatters. [_exit ixion_.] "_sim._ there is a fine gentleman for you,--in the very pink of the mode, with not a single article about him his own,--his words pilfered from magazines, his address from french valets, and his clothes not paid for. "_macd._ but pray, mr. simile, how did ixion get into heaven? "_sim._ why, sir, what's that to any body?--perhaps by salmoneus's brazen bridge, or the giant's mountain, or the tower of babel, or on theobald's bull-dogs, or--who the devil cares how?--he is there, and that's enough." * * * * * "_sim._ now for a phoenix of a song. "_song by_ jupiter. "you dogs, i'm jupiter imperial, king, emperor, and pope aetherial, master of th' ordnance of the sky.-- "_sim._ z----ds, where's the ordnance? have you forgot the pistol? (_to the orchestra_.) "_orchestra._ (_to some one behind the scenes_.) tom, are not you prepared? "_tom._ (_from behind the scenes_.) yes, sir, but i flash'd in the pan a little out of time, and had i staid to prime, i should have shot a bar too late. "_sim._ oh then, jupiter, begin the song again.--we must not lose our ordnance. "you dogs, i'm jupiter imperial, king, emperor, and pope aetherial, master of th' ordnance of the sky; &c. &c. [_here a pistol or cracker is fired from behind the scenes_.] "_sim._ this hint i took from handel.--well, how do you think we go on? "_o'cul._ with vast spirit,--the plot begins to thicken. "_sim._ thicken! aye,--'twill be as thick as the calf of your leg presently. well, now for the real, original, patentee amphitryon. what, ho, amphitryon! amphitryon!--'tis simile calls.--why, where the devil is he? "_enter_ servant. "_monop._ tom, where is amphitryon? "_sim._ zounds, he's not arrested too, is he? "_serv._ no, sir, but there was but _one black eye_ in the house, and he is waiting to get it from jupiter. "_sim._ to get a black eye from jupiter,--oh, this will never do. why, when they meet, they ought to match like two beef-eaters." according to their original plan for the conclusion of this farce, all things were at last to be compromised between jupiter and juno; amphitryon was to be comforted in the birth of so mighty a son; ixion, for his presumption, instead of being fixed to a _torturing_ wheel, was to have been fixed to a vagrant monotroche, as knife-grinder, and a grand chorus of deities (intermixed with "knives, scissors, pen-knives to grind," set to music as nearly as possible to the natural cry,) would have concluded the whole. that habit of dilatoriness, which is too often attendant upon genius, and which is for ever making it, like the pistol in the scene just quoted, "shoot a bar too late," was, through life, remarkable in the character of mr. sheridan,--and we have here an early instance of its influence over him. though it was in august, , that he received the sketch of this piece from his friend, and though they both looked forward most sanguinely to its success, as likely to realize many a dream of fame and profit, it was not till the month of may in the subsequent year, as appears by a letter from mr. ker to sheridan, that the probability of the arrival of the manuscript was announced to mr. foote. "i have dispatched a card, as from h. h., at owen's coffee-house, to mr. foote, to inform him that he may expect to see your dramatic piece about the th instant." their hopes and fears in this theatrical speculation are very naturally and livelily expressed throughout halhed's letters, sometimes with a degree of humorous pathos, which is interesting as characteristic of both the writers:--"the thoughts," he says, "of _l_. shared between us are enough to bring the tears into one's eyes." sometimes, he sets more moderate limits to their ambition, and hopes that they will, at least, get the freedom of the play-house by it. but at all times he chides, with good-humored impatience, the tardiness of his fellow- laborer in applying to the managers. fears are expressed that foote may have made other engagements,--and that a piece, called "dido," on the same mythological plan, which had lately been produced with but little success, might prove an obstacle to the reception of theirs. at drury lane, too, they had little hopes of a favorable hearing, as dibdin was one of the principal butts of their ridicule. the summer season, however, was suffered to pass away without an effort; and in october, , we find mr. halhed flattering himself with hopes from a negotiation with mr. garrick. it does not appear, however, that sheridan ever actually presented this piece to any of the managers; and indeed it is probable, from the following fragment of a scene found among his papers, that he soon abandoned the groundwork of halhed altogether, and transferred his plan of a rehearsal to some other subject, of his own invention, and, therefore, more worthy of his wit. it will be perceived that the puffing author was here intended to be a scotchman. "_m._ sir, i have read your comedy, and i think it has infinite merit, but, pray, don't you think it rather grave? "_s._ sir, you say true; it _is_ a grave comedy. i follow the opinion of longinus, who says comedy ought always to be sentimental. sir, i value a sentiment of six lines in my piece no more than a nabob does a rupee. i hate those dirty, paltry equivocations, which go by the name of puns, and pieces of wit. no, sir, it ever was my opinion that the stage should be a place of rational entertainment; instead of which, i am very sorry to say, most people go there for their diversion: accordingly, i have formed my comedy so that it is no laughing, giggling piece of work. he must be a very light man that shall discompose his muscles from the beginning to the end. "_m._ but don't you think it may be too grave? "_s._ o never fear; and as for hissing, mon, they might as well hiss the common prayer-book; for there is the viciousness of vice and the virtuousness of virtue in every third line. "_m._ i confess there is a great deal of moral in it; but, sir, i should imagine if you tried your hand at tragedy-- "_s._ no, mon, there you are out, and i'll relate to you what put me first on writing a comedy. you must know i had composed a very fine tragedy about the valiant bruce. i showed it my laird of mackintosh, and he was a very candid mon, and he said my genius did not lie in tragedy: i took the hint, and, as soon as i got home, began my comedy." we have here some of the very thoughts and words that afterwards contributed to the fortune of puff; and it is amusing to observe how long this subject was played with by the current of sheridan's fancy, till at last, like "a stone of lustre from the brook," it came forth with all that smoothness and polish which it wears in his inimitable farce, the critic. thus it is, too, and but little to the glory of what are called our years of discretion, that the life of the _man_ is chiefly employed in giving effect to the wishes and plans of the _boy_. another of their projects was a periodical miscellany, the idea of which originated with sheridan, and whose first embryo movements we trace in a letter to him from mr. lewis kerr, who undertook, with much good nature, the negotiation of the young author's literary concerns in london. the letter is dated th of october, : "as to your intended periodical paper, if it meets with success, there is no doubt of profit accruing, as i have already engaged a publisher, of established reputation, to undertake it for the account of the authors. but i am to indemnify him in case it should not sell, and to advance part of the first expense, all which i can do without applying to mr. ewart."--"i would be glad to know what stock of papers you have already written, as there ought to be ten or a dozen at least finished before you print any, in order to have time to prepare the subsequent numbers, and ensure a continuance of the work. as to the coffee-houses, you must not depend on their taking it in at first, except you go on the plan of the tatler, and give the news of the week. for the first two or three weeks the expense of advertising will certainly prevent any profit being made. but when that is over, if a thousand are sold weekly, you may reckon on receiving l clear. one paper a week will do better than two. pray say no more as to our accounts." the title intended by sheridan for this paper was "hernan's miscellany," to which his friend halhed objected, and suggested, "the reformer," as a newer and more significant name. but though halhed appears to have sought among his oxford friends for an auxiliary or two in their weekly labors, this meditated miscellany never proceeded beyond the first number, which was written by sheridan, and which i have found among his papers. it is too diffuse and pointless to be given entire; but an extract or two from it will not be unwelcome to those who love to trace even the first, feeblest beginnings of genius: hernan's miscellany. no. i. "'i will sit down and write for the good of the people--for (said i to myself, pulling off my spectacles, and drinking up the remainder of my sixpen'worth) it cannot be but people must be sick of these same rascally politics. all last winter nothing but--god defend me! 'tis tiresome to think of it.' i immediately flung the pamphlet down on the table, and taking my hat and cane walked out of the coffee-house. "i kept up as smart a pace as i could all the way home, for i felt myself full of something, and enjoyed my own thoughts so much, that i was afraid of digesting them, lest any should escape me. at last i knocked at my own door.--'so!' said i to the maid who opened it, (for i never would keep a man; not, but what i could afford it--however, the reason is not material now,) 'so!' said i with an unusual smile upon my face, and immediately sent her for a quire of paper and half a hundred of pens--the only thing i had absolutely determined on in my way from the coffee-house. i had now got seated in my arm chair,--i am an infirm old man, and i live on a second floor,--when i began to ruminate on my project. the first thing that occurred to me (and certainly a very natural one) was to examine my common-place book. so i went to my desk and took out my old faithful red-leather companion, who had long discharged the office of treasurer to all my best hints and memorandums: but, how was i surprised, when one of the first things that struck my eyes was the following memorandum, legibly written, and on one of my best sheets of vellum:--'mem.--_oct. th, , left the grecian after having read ----'s poems, with a determined resolution to write a periodical paper, in order to reform the vitiated taste of the age; but, coming home and finding my fire out, and my maid gone abroad, was obliged to defer the execution of my plan to another opportunity._' now though this event had absolutely slipped my memory, i now recollected it perfectly,--ay, so my fire _was_ out indeed, and my maid _did_ go abroad sure enough.--'good heavens!' said i, 'how great events depend upon little circumstances!' however, i looked upon this as a memento for me no longer to trifle away my time and resolution; and thus i began to reason,--i mean, i _would_ have reasoned, had i not been interrupted by a noise of some one coming up stairs. by the alternate thump upon the steps, i soon discovered it must be my old and intimate friend rudliche. * * * * * "but, to return, in walked rudliche.--'so, fred.'--'so, bob.'--'were you at the grecian to-day?'--'i just stepped in.'--'well, any news?'--'no, no, there was no news.' now, as bob and i saw one another almost every day, we seldom abounded in conversation; so, having settled one material point, he sat in his usual posture, looking at the fire and beating the dust out of his wooden leg, when i perceived he was going to touch upon _the_ other subject; but, having by chance cast his eye on my face, and finding (i suppose) something extraordinary in my countenance, he immediately dropped all concern for the weather, and putting his hand into his pocket, (as if he meant to find what he was going to say, under pretence of feeling for his tobacco-box,) 'hernan! (he began) why, man, you look for all the world as if you had been thinking of something.'-- 'yes,' replied i, smiling, (that is, not actually smiling, but with a conscious something in my face,) 'i have, indeed, been thinking a little.'--'what, is't a secret?'--'oh, nothing very material.' here ensued a pause, which i employed in considering whether i should reveal my scheme to bob; and bob in trying to disengage his thumb from the string of his cane, as if he were preparing to take his leave. this latter action, with the great desire i had of disburdening myself, made me instantly resolve to lay my whole plan before him. 'bob,' said i, (he immediately quitted his thumb,) 'you remarked that i looked as if i had been thinking of something,--your remark is just, and i'll tell you the subject of my thought. you know, bob, that i always had a strong passion for literature:--you have often seen my collection of books, not very large indeed, however i believe i have read every volume of it twice over, (excepting ----'_s divine legation of moses_, and ----'_s lives of the most notorious malefactors_,) and i am now determined to profit by them.' i concluded with a very significant nod; but, good heavens! how mortified was i to find both my speech and my nod thrown away, when rudliche calmly replied, with the true phlegm of ignorance, 'my dear friend, i think your resolution in regard to your books a very prudent one; but i do not perfectly conceive your plan as to the _profit_; for, though your volumes may be very curious, yet you know they are most of them secondhand.'--i was so vexed with the fellow's stupidity that i had a great mind to punish him by not disclosing a syllable more. however, at last my vanity got the better of my resentment, and i explained to him the whole matter. * * * * * "in examining the beginning of the spectators, &c., i find they are all written by a society.--now i profess to write all myself, though i acknowledge that, on account of a weakness in my eyes, i have got some understrappers who are to write the poetry, &c.... in order to find the different merits of these my subalterns, i stipulated with them that they should let me feed them as i would. this they consented to do, and it is surprising to think what different effects diet has on the writers. the same, who after having been fed two days upon artichokes produced as pretty a copy of verses as ever i saw, on beef was as dull as ditch-water...." "it is a characteristic of fools," says some one, "to be always beginning,"--and this is not the only point in which folly and genius resemble each other. so chillingly indeed do the difficulties of execution succeed to the first ardor of conception, that it is only wonderful there should exist so many finished monuments of genius, or that men of fancy should not oftener have contented themselves with those first vague sketches, in the production of which the chief luxury of intellectual creation lies. among the many literary works shadowed out by sheridan at this time were a collection of occasional poems, and a volume of crazy tales, to the former of which halhed suggests that "the old things they did at harrow out of theocritus" might, with a little pruning, form a useful contribution. the loss of the volume of crazy tales is little to be regretted, as from its title we may conclude it was written in imitation of the clever but licentious productions of john hall stephenson. if the same kind oblivion had closed over the levities of other young authors, who, in the season of folly and the passions, have made their pages the transcript of their lives, it would have been equally fortunate for themselves and the world. but whatever may have been the industry of these youthful authors, the translation of aristaenetus, as i have already stated, was the only fruit of their literary alliance that ever arrived at sufficient maturity for publication. in november, , halhed had completed and forwarded to bath his share of the work, and in the following month we find sheridan preparing, with the assistance of a greek grammar, to complete the task. "the th ult., (says mr. ker, in a letter to him from london, dated dec. , ,) i was favored with yours, and have since been hunting for aristaenetus, whom i found this day, and therefore send to you, together with a greek grammar. i might have dispatched at the same time some numbers of the dictionary, but not having got the last two numbers, was not willing to send any without the whole of what is published, and still less willing to delay aristaenetus's journey by waiting for them." the work alluded to here is the dictionary of arts and sciences, to which sheridan had subscribed, with the view, no doubt, of informing himself upon subjects of which he was as yet wholly ignorant, having left school, like most other young men at his age, as little furnished with the knowledge that is wanted in the world, as a person would be for the demands of a market, who went into it with nothing but a few ancient coins in his pocket. the passion, however, that now began to take possession of his heart was little favorable to his advancement in any serious studies, and it may easily be imagined that, in the neighborhood of miss linley, the arts and sciences were suffered to sleep quietly on their shelves. even the translation of aristaenetus, though a task more suited, from its amatory nature, to the existing temperature of his heart, was proceeded in but slowly; and it appears from one of halhed's letters, that this impatient ally was already counting upon the _spolia opima_ of the campaign, before sheridan had fairly brought his greek grammar into the field. the great object of the former was a visit to bath, and he had set his heart still more anxiously upon it, after a second meeting with miss linley at oxford. but the profits expected from their literary undertakings were the only means to which he looked for the realizing of this dream; and he accordingly implores his friend, with the most comic piteousness, to drive the farce on the stage by main force, and to make aristaenetus sell whether he will or not. in the november of this year we find them discussing the propriety of prefixing their names to the work--sheridan evidently not disinclined to venture, but halhed recommending that they should wait to hear how "sumner and the wise few of their acquaintance" would talk of the book, before they risked anything more than their initials. in answer to sheridan's inquiries as to the extent of sale they may expect in oxford, he confesses that, after three coffee-houses had bought one a-piece, not two more would be sold. that poverty is the best nurse of talent has long been a most humiliating truism; and the fountain of the muses, bursting from a barren rock, is but too apt an emblem of the hard source from which much of the genius of this world has issued. how strongly the young translators of aristaenetus were under the influence of this sort of inspiration appears from every paragraph of halhed's letters, and might easily, indeed, be concluded of sheridan, from the very limited circumstances of his father, who had nothing besides the pension of l a year, conferred upon him in consideration of his literary merits, and the little profits he derived from his lectures in bath, to support with decency himself and his family. the prospects of halhed were much more golden, but he was far too gay and mercurial to be prudent; and from the very scanty supplies which his father allowed him, had quite as little of "le superflu, chose si necessaire," as his friend. but whatever were his other desires and pursuits, a visit to bath,--to that place which contained the two persons he most valued in friendship and in love,--was the grand object of all his financial speculations; and among other ways and means that, in the delay of the expected resources from aristaenetus, presented themselves, was an exhibition of l a year, which the college had lately given him, and with five pounds of which he thought he might venture "adire corinthum." though sheridan had informed his friend that the translation was put to press some time in march, , it does not appear to have been given into the hands of wilkie, the publisher, till the beginning of may, when mr. ker writes thus to bath: "your aristaenetus is in the hands of mr. wilkie, in st. paul's churchyard, and to put you out of suspense at once, will certainly make his appearance about the first of june next, in the form of a neat volume, price s or s d, as may best suit his size, &c., which cannot be more nearly determined at present, i have undertaken the task of correcting for the press.... some of the epistles that i have perused seem to me elegant and poetical; in others i could not observe equal beauty, and here and there i could wish there was some little amendment. you will pardon this liberty i take, and set it down to the account of old-fashioned friendship." mr. ker, to judge from his letters, (which, in addition to their other laudable points, are dated with a precision truly exemplary,) was a very kind, useful, and sensible person, and in the sober hue of his intellect exhibited a striking contrast to the sparkling vivacity of the two sanguine and impatient young wits, whose affairs he so good naturedly undertook to negotiate. at length in august, , aristaenetus made its appearance--contrary to the advice of the bookseller, and of mr. ker, who represented to sheridan the unpropitiousness of the season, particularly for a first experiment in authorship, and advised the postponement of the publication till october. but the translators were too eager for the rich harvest of emolument they had promised themselves, and too full of that pleasing but often fatal delusion--that calenture, under the influence of which young voyagers to the shores of fame imagine they already see her green fields and groves in the treacherous waves around them--to listen to the suggestions of mere calculating men of business. the first account they heard of the reception of the work was flattering enough to prolong awhile this dream of vanity. "it begins (writes mr. ker, in about a fortnight after the publication,) to make some noise, and is fathered on mr. johnson, author of the english dictionary, &c. see to-day's gazetteer. the critics are admirable in discovering a concealed author by his style, manner, &c." their disappointment at the ultimate failure of the book was proportioned, we may suppose, to the sanguineness of their first expectations. but the reluctance with which an author yields to the sad certainty of being unread, is apparent in the eagerness with which halhed avails himself of every encouragement for a rally of his hopes. the critical reviewers, it seems, had given the work a tolerable character, and quoted the first epistle. [footnote: in one of the reviews i have seen it thus spoken of:--"no such writer as aristaenetus ever existed in the classic era; nor did even the unhappy schools, after the destruction of the eastern empire, produce such a writer. it was left to the latter times of monkish imposition to give such trash as this, on which the translator has ill spent his time. we have been as idly employed in reading it, and our readers will in proportion lose their time in perusing this article."] the weekly review in the public ledger had also spoken well of it, and cited a specimen. the oxford magazine had transcribed two whole epistles, without mentioning from whence they were taken. every body, he says, seemed to have read the book, and one of those _hawking booksellers_ who attend the coffeehouses assured him it was written by dr. armstrong, author of the oeconomy of love. on the strength of all this he recommends that another volume of the epistles should be published immediately--being of opinion that the readers of the first volume would be sure to purchase the second, and that the publication of the second would put it in the heads of others to buy the first. under a sentence containing one of these sanguine anticipations, there is written, in sheridan's hand, the word "quixote!" they were never, of course, called upon for the second part, and, whether we consider the merits of the original or of the translation, the world has but little to regret in the loss. aristaenetus is one of those weak, florid sophists, who flourished in the decline and degradation of ancient literature, and strewed their gaudy flowers of rhetoric over the dead muse of greece. he is evidently of a much later period than alciphron, to whom he is also very inferior in purity of diction, variety of subject, and playfulness of irony. but neither of them ever deserved to be wakened from that sleep, in which the commentaries of bergler, de pauw, and a few more such industrious scholars have shrouded them. the translators of aristaenetus, in rendering his flowery prose into verse, might have found a precedent and model for their task in ben jonson, whose popular song, "drink to me only with thine eyes," is, as mr. cumberland first remarked, but a piece of fanciful mosaic, collected out of the love-letters of the sophist philostratus. but many of the narrations in aristaenetus are incapable of being elevated into poetry; and, unluckily, these familiar parts seem chiefly to have fallen to the department of halhed, who was far less gifted than his coadjutor with that artist-like touch, which polishes away the mark of vulgarity, and gives an air of elegance even to poverty. as the volume is not in many hands, the following extract from one of the epistles may be acceptable --as well from the singularity of the scene described, as from the specimen it affords of the merits of the translation: "listen--another pleasure i display, that help'd delightfully the time away. from distant vales, where bubbles from its source a crystal rill, they dug a winding course: see! thro' the grove a narrow lake extends, crosses each plot, to each plantation bends; and while the fount in new meanders glides, the forest brightens with refreshing tides. tow'rds us they taught the new-born stream to flow, tow'rds us it crept, irresolute and slow; scarce had the infant current crickled by, when lo! a wondrous fleet attracts our eye; laden with draughts might greet a monarch's tongue, the mimic navigation swam along. hasten, ye ship-like goblets, down the vale, [footnote: "in the original, this luxurious image is pursued so far that the very leaf which is represented as the sail of the vessel, is particularized as of a medicinal nature, capable of preventing any ill effects the wine might produce."--_note by the translator.] your freight a flagon, and a leaf your sail; o may no envious rush thy course impede, or floating apple stop thy tide-born speed. his mildest breath a gentle zephyr gave; the little vessels trimly stem'd the wave: their precious merchandise to land they bore, and one by one resigned the balmy store. stretch but a hand, we boarded them, and quaft with native luxury the tempered draught. for where they loaded the nectareous fleet, the goblet glow'd with too intense a heat; cool'd by degrees in these convivial ships, with nicest taste it met our thirsty lips." as a scholar, such as halhed, could hardly have been led into the mistake, of supposing [greek: pa medika phuxa phullon] to mean "a leaf of a medicinal nature," we may, perhaps, from this circumstance not less than from the superior workmanship of the verses, attribute the whole of this epistle and notes to sheridan. there is another epistle, the th, as evidently from the pen of his friend, the greater part of which is original, and shows, by its raciness and vigor, what difference there is between "the first sprightly runnings" of an author's own mind, and his cold, vapid transfusion of the thoughts of another. from stanza th to the end is all added by the translator, and all spirited--though full of a bold defying libertinism, as unlike as possible to the effeminate lubricity of the poor sophist, upon whom, in a grave, treacherous note, the responsibility of the whole is laid. but by far the most interesting part of the volume is the last epistle of the book, "from a lover resigning his mistress to his friend,"--in which halhed has contrived to extract from the unmeaningness of the original a direct allusion to his own fate; and, forgetting aristaenetus and his dull personages, thinks only of himself, and sheridan, and miss linley. "thee, then, my friend,--if yet a wretch may claim a last attention by that once dear name,-- thee i address:--the cause you must approve; i yield you--what i cannot cease to love. be thine the blissful lot, the nymph be thine: i yield my love,--sure, friendship may be mine. yet must no thought of me torment thy breast; forget me, if my griefs disturb thy rest, whilst still i'll pray that thou may'st never know the pangs of baffled love, or feel my woe. but sure to thee, dear, charming--fatal maid! (for me thou'st charmed, and me thou hast betray'd,) this last request i need not recommend-- forget the lover thou, as he the friend. bootless such charge! for ne'er did pity move a heart that mock'd the suit of humble love. yet, in some thoughtful hour--if such can be, where love, timocrates, is join'd with thee-- in some lone pause of joy, when pleasures pall, and fancy broods o'er joys it can't recall, haply a thought of me, (for thou, my friend, may'st then have taught that stubborn heart to bend,) a thought of him whose passion was not weak, may dash one transient blush upon her cheek; haply a tear--(for i shall surely then be past all power to raise her scorn again--) haply, i say, one self-dried tear may fall:-- one tear she'll give, for whom i yielded all! * * * * * * * * * * my life has lost its aim!--that fatal fair was all its object, all its hope or care: she was the goal, to which my course was bent, where every wish, where every thought was sent; a secret influence darted from her eyes,-- each look, attraction, and herself the prize. concentred there, i liv'd for her alone; to make her glad and to be blest was one. * * * * * * * * * * adieu, my friend,--nor blame this _sad_ adieu, though sorrow guides my pen, it blames not you. forget me--'tis my pray'r; nor seek to know the fate of him whose portion must be woe, till the cold earth outstretch her friendly arms, and death convince me that he _can_ have charms." but halhed's was not the only heart that sighed deeply and hopelessly for the young maid of bath, who appears, indeed, to have spread her gentle conquests to an extent almost unparalleled in the annals of beauty. her personal charms, the exquisiteness of her musical talents, and the full light of publicity which her profession threw upon both, naturally attracted round her a crowd of admirers, in whom the sympathy of a common pursuit soon kindled into rivalry, till she became at length an object of vanity as well as of love. her extreme youth, too,--for she was little more than sixteen when sheridan first met her,--must have removed, even from minds the most fastidious and delicate, that repugnance they might justly have felt to her profession, if she had lived much longer under its tarnishing influence, or lost, by frequent exhibitions before the public, that fine gloss of feminine modesty, for whose absence not all the talents and accomplishments of the whole sex can atone. she had been, even at this early age, on the point of marriage with mr. long, an old gentleman of considerable fortune in wiltshire, who proved the reality of his attachment to her in a way which few young lovers would be romantic enough to imitate. on her secretly representing to him that she never could be happy as his wife, he generously took upon himself the whole blame of breaking off the alliance, and even indemnified the father, who was proceeding to bring the transaction into court, by settling l upon his daughter. mr. sheridan, who owed to this liberal conduct not only the possession of the woman he loved, but the means of supporting her during the first years of their marriage, spoke invariably of mr. long, who lived to a very advanced age, with all the kindness and respect which such a disinterested character merited. it was about the middle of the year that the sheridans took up their residence in king's mead [footnote: they also lived, during a part of their stay at bath, in new king street.] street, bath, where an acquaintance commenced between them and mr. linley's family, which the kindred tastes of the young people soon ripened into intimacy. it was not to be expected,--though parents, in general, are as blind to the first approach of these dangers as they are rigid and unreasonable after they have happened,--that such youthful poets and musicians [footnote: dr. burney, in his biographical sketch of mr. linley, written for rees' cyclopaedia, calls the linley family "a nest of nightingales." the only surviving member of this accomplished family is mr. william linley, whose taste and talent, both in poetry and music, most worthily sustain the reputation of the name that he bears.]--should come together without love very soon making one of the party. accordingly the two brothers became deeply enamored of miss linley. her heart, however, was not so wholly un-preoccupied as to yield at once to the passion which her destiny had in store for her. one of those transient preferences, which in early youth are mistaken for love, had already taken lively possession of her imagination; and to this the following lines, written at that time by mr. sheridan, allude: to the recording angel. cherub of heaven, that from my secret stand dost note the follies of each mortal here, oh, if eliza's steps employ thy hand, blot the sad legend with a mortal tear. nor when she errs, through passion's wild extreme, mark then her course, nor heed each trifling wrong; nor, when her sad attachment is her theme, note down the transports of her erring tongue. but, when she sighs for sorrows not her own, let that dear sigh to mercy's cause be given; and bear that tear to her creator's throne, which glistens in the eye upraised to heaven! but in love, as in everything else, the power of a mind like sheridan's must have made itself felt through all obstacles and difficulties. he was not long in winning the entire affections of the young "syren," though the number and wealth of his rivals, the ambitious views of her father, and the temptations to which she herself was hourly exposed, kept his jealousies and fears perpetually on the watch. he is supposed, indeed, to have been indebted to self-observation for that portrait of a wayward and morbidly sensitive lover, which he has drawn so strikingly in the character of falkland. with a mind in this state of feverish wakefulness, it is remarkable that he should so long have succeeded in concealing his attachment from the eyes of those most interested in discovering it. even his brother charles was for some time wholly unaware of their rivalry, and went on securely indulging in a passion which it was hardly possible, with such opportunities of intercourse, to resist, and which survived long after miss linley's selection of another had extinguished every hope in his heart, but that of seeing her happy. halhed, too, who at that period corresponded constantly with sheridan, and confided to him the love with which he also had been inspired by this enchantress, was for a length of time left in the same darkness upon the subject, and without the slightest suspicion that the epidemic had reached his friend, whose only mode of evading the many tender inquiries and messages with which halhed's letters abounded, was by referring to answers which had by some strange fatality miscarried, and which, we may conclude, without much uncharitableness, had never been written. miss linley went frequently to oxford, to perform at the oratorios and concerts; and it may easily be imagined that the ancient allegory of the muses throwing chains over cupid was here reversed, and the quiet shades of learning not a little disturbed by the splendor of these "angel visits." the letters of halhed give a lively idea, not only of his own intoxication, but of the sort of contagious delirium, like that at abdera described by lucian, with which the young men of oxford were affected by this beautiful girl. in describing her singing he quotes part of a latin letter which he himself had written to a friend upon first hearing her; and it is a curious proof of the readiness of sheridan, notwithstanding his own fertility, to avail himself of the thoughts of others, that we find in this extract, word for word, the same extravagant comparison of the effects of music to the process of egyptian embalmment--"extracting the brain through the ears"--which was afterwards transplanted into the dialogue of the duenna: "_mortuum quondam ante aegypti medici quam pollincirent cerebella de auribus unco quodam hamo solebant extrahere; sic de meis auribus non cerebrum, sed cor ipsum exhausit lusciniola, &c., &c._" he mentions, as the rivals most dreaded by her admirers, norris, the singer, whose musical talents, it was thought, recommended him to her, and mr. watts, a gentleman commoner, of very large fortune. while all hearts and tongues were thus occupied about miss linley, it is not wonderful that rumors of matrimony and elopement should, from time to time, circulate among her apprehensive admirers; or that the usual ill-compliment should be paid to her sex of supposing that wealth must be the winner of the prize. it was at one moment currently reported at oxford that she had gone off to scotland with a young man of l , a year, and the panic which the intelligence spread is described in one of these letters to sheridan, (who, no doubt, shared in it) as producing "long faces" everywhere. not only, indeed, among her numerous lovers, but among all who delighted in her public performances, an alarm would naturally be felt at the prospect of her becoming private property: "_te juga taygeti, posito te maenala flebunt venatu, maestoque diu lugebere cyntho. delphica quinetiam fratris delubra tacebunt._" [footnote: claudian. de rapt. proserp. lib. ii. v. .] thee, thee, when hurried from our eyes away, laconia's hills shall mourn for many a day-- the arcadian hunter shall forget his chase, and turn aside to think upon that face; while many an hour apollo's songless shrine shall wait in silence for a voice like thine! but to the honor of her sex, which is, in general, more disinterested than the other, it was found that neither rank nor wealth had influenced her heart in its election; and halhed, who, like others, had estimated the strength of his rivals by their rent-rolls, discovered at last that his unpretending friend, sheridan, (whose advances in courtship and in knowledge seem to have been equally noiseless and triumphant,) was the chosen favorite of her, at whose feet so many fortunes lay. like that saint, cecilia, by whose name she was always called, she had long welcomed to her soul a secret visitant, [footnote: "the youth, found in her chamber, had in his hand two crowns or wreaths, the one of lilies, the other of roses, which he had brought from paradise."--_legend of st. cecilia_.] whose gifts were of a higher and more radiant kind than the mere wealthy and lordly of this world can proffer. a letter, written by halhed on the prospect of his departure for india, [footnote: the letter is evidently in answer to one which he had just received from sheridan, in which miss linley had written a few words expressive of her wishes for his health and happiness. mr. halhed sailed for india about the latter end of this year.] alludes so delicately to this discovery, and describes the state of his own heart so mournfully, that i must again, in parting with him and his correspondence, express the strong regret that i feel at not being able to indulge the reader with a perusal of these letters. not only as a record of the first short flights of sheridan's genius, but as a picture, from the life, of the various feelings of youth, its desires and fears, its feverish hopes and fanciful melancholy, they could not have failed to be read with the deepest interest. to this period of mr. sheridan's life we are indebted for most of those elegant love-verses, which are so well known and so often quoted. the lines "uncouth is this moss-covered grotto of stone," were addressed to miss linley, after having offended her by one of those lectures upon decorum of conduct, which jealous lovers so frequently inflict upon their mistresses,--and the grotto, immortalized by their quarrel, is supposed to have been in spring gardens, then the fashionable place of resort in bath. i have elsewhere remarked that the conceit in the following stanza resembles a thought in some verses of angerianus:-- and thou, stony grot, in thy arch may'st preserve two lingering drops of the night-fallen dew, let them fall on her bosom of snow, and they'll serve as tears of my sorrow entrusted to you. _at quum per niveam cervicem influxerit humor dicite non roris sed pluvia haec lacrimae._ whether sheridan was likely to have been a reader of angerianus is, i think, doubtful--at all events the coincidence is curious. "dry be that tear, my gentlest love," is supposed to have been written at a later period; but it was most probably produced at the time of his courtship, for he wrote but few love verses after his marriage--like the nightingale (as a french editor of bonefonius says, in remarking a similar circumstance of that poet) "qui developpe le charme de sa voix tant qu'il vent plaire a sa compagne--sont-ils unis? il se tait, il n'a plus le besoin de lui plaire." this song having been hitherto printed incorrectly, i shall give it here, as it is in the copies preserved by his relations. dry be that tear, my gentlest love, be hush'd that struggling sigh, nor seasons, day, nor fate shall prove more fix'd, more true than i. hush'd be that sigh, be dry that tear, cease boding doubt, cease anxious fear.-- dry be that tear. ask'st thou how long my love will stay, when all that's new is past;-- how long, ah delia, can i say how long my life will last? dry be that tear, be hush'd that sigh, at least i'll love thee till i die.-- hush'd be that sigh. and does that thought affect thee too, the thought of sylvio's death, that he who only breathed for you, must yield that faithful breath? hush'd be that sigh, be dry that tear, nor let us lose our heaven here.-- dry be that tear. [footnote: an elegy by halhed, transcribed in one of his letters to sheridan, begins thus: "dry be that tear, be hush'd that struggling sigh."] there is in the second stanza here a close resemblance to one of the madrigals of montreuil, a french poet, to whom sir j. moore was indebted for the point of his well known verses, "if in that breast, so good, so pure." [footnote: the grief that on my quiet preys, that rends my heart and checks my tongue, i fear will last me all my days, and feel it will not last me long. it is thus in montreuil: c'est un mal que j'aurai tout le terns de ma vie mais je ne l'aurai pas long-tems.] mr. sheridan, however, knew nothing of french, and neglected every opportunity of learning it, till, by a very natural process, his ignorance of the language grew into hatred of it. besides, we have the immediate source from which he derived the thought of this stanza, in one of the essays of hume, who, being a reader of foreign literature, most probably found it in montreuil. [footnote: or in an italian song of menage, from which montreuil, who was accustomed to such thefts, most probably stole it. the point in the italian is, as far as i can remember it, expressed thus: in van, o filli, tu chiedi se lungamente durera pardore * * * * * chi lo potrebbe dire? incerta, o filli, e l'ora del morire.] the passage in hume (which sheridan has done little more than versify) is as follows:--"why so often ask me, _how long my love shall yet endure?_ alas, my caelia, can i resolve the question? _do i know how long my life shall yet endure?"_ [footnote: the epicurean] the pretty lines, "mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue?" were written not upon miss linley, as has been generally stated, but upon lady margaret fordyce, and form part of a poem which he published in , descriptive of the principal beauties of bath, entitled "clio's protest, or the picture varnished,"--being an answer to some verses by mr. miles peter andrews, called "the bath picture," in which lady margaret was thus introduced: "remark too the dimpling, sweet smile lady marg'ret's fine countenance wears." the following is the passage in mr. sheridan's poem, entire; and the beauty of the six favorite lines shines out so conspicuously, that we cannot wonder at their having been so soon detached, like ill-set jems, from the loose and clumsy workmanship around them. "but, hark!--did not our bard repeat the love-born name of m-rg-r-t?-- attention seizes every ear; "we pant for the description _here_: if ever dulness left thy brow, '_pindar,_' we say, ''twill leave thee now.' but o! old dulness' son anointed his mother never disappointed!-- and here we all were left to seek a dimple in f-rd-ce's cheek! "and could you really discover, in gazing those sweet beauties over, no other charm, no winning grace, adorning either mind or face, but one poor _dimple_ to express the _quintessence_ of _loveliness_? ....mark'd you her cheek of rosy hue? mark'd you her eye of sparkling blue? that eye in liquid circles moving; that cheek abash'd at man's approving; the _one_, love's arrows darting round; the _other_, blushing at the wound: did she not speak, did she not move, now _pallas_--now the queen of love!" there is little else in this poem worth being extracted, though it consists of about four hundred lines; except, perhaps, his picture of a good country housewife, which affords an early specimen of that neat pointedness of phrase, which gave his humor, both poetic and dramatic, such a peculiar edge and polish:-- "we see the dame, in rustic pride, a bunch of keys to grace her side, stalking across the well-swept entry, to hold her council in the pantry; or, with prophetic soul, foretelling the peas will boil well by the shelling; or, bustling in her private closet, prepare her lord his morning posset; and, while the hallowed mixture thickens, signing death-warrants for the chickens: else, greatly pensive, poring o'er accounts her cook had thumbed before; one eye cast up upon that _great book_, yclep'd _the family receipt book_; by which she's ruled in all her courses, from stewing figs to drenching horses. --then pans and pickling skillets rise, in dreadful lustre, to our eyes, with store of sweetmeats, rang'd in order, and _potted nothings_ on the border; while salves and caudle-cups between, with squalling children, close the scene." we find here, too, the source of one of those familiar lines, which so many quote without knowing whence they come;--one of those stray fragments, whose parentage is doubtful, but to which (as the law says of illegitimate children) "_pater est populus_." "you write with ease, to show your breeding, _but easy writing's curst hard reading_." in the following passage, with more of the tact of a man of the world than the ardor of a poet, he dismisses the object nearest his heart with the mere passing gallantry of a compliment:-- "o! should your genius ever rise, and make you _laureate_ in the skies, i'd hold my life, in twenty years, you'd spoil the _music_ of the _spheres_. --nay, should the rapture-breathing nine in one celestial concert join, their sovereign's power to rehearse, --were you to furnish them with verse, by jove, i'd fly the heavenly throng, though _phoebus_ play'd and _linley_ sung." on the opening of the new assembly rooms at bath, which commenced with a ridotto, sept. , , he wrote a humorous description of the entertainment, called "an epistle from timothy screw to his brother henry, waiter at almack's," which appeared first in the bath chronicle, and was so eagerly sought after, that crutwell, the editor, was induced to publish it in a separate form. the allusions in this trifle have, of course, lost their zest by time; and a specimen or two of its humor will be all that is necessary here. "two rooms were first opened--the _long_ and the _round_ one, (these _hogstyegon_ names only serve to confound one,) both splendidly lit with the new chandeliers, with drops hanging down like the bobs at peg's ears: while jewels of _paste_ reflected the rays, and _bristol-stone_ diamonds gave strength to the blaze: so that it was doubtful, to view the bright clusters, which sent the most light out, the ear-rings or lustres. * * * * nor less among you was the medley, ye fair! i believe there were some besides quality there: miss _spiggot_, miss _brussels_, miss _tape_, and miss _socket_, miss _trinket_, and aunt, with her leathern pocket, with good mrs. _soaker_, who made her old chin go, for hours, hobnobbing with mrs. _syringo_: had tib staid at home, i b'lieve none would have miss'd her, or pretty _peg runt_, with her tight little sister," &c. &c. chapter ii. duels with mr. mathews.--marriage with miss linley. towards the close of the year , the elder mr. sheridan went to dublin, to perform at the theatre of that city,--leaving his young and lively family at bath, with nothing but their hearts and imaginations to direct them. the following letters, which passed between him and his son richard during his absence, though possessing little other interest than that of having been written at such a period, will not, perhaps, be unwelcome to the reader:-- "dublin, dec. th, . "my dear richard, "how could you be so wrong-headed as to commence cold bathing at such a season of the year, and i suppose without any preparation too? you have paid sufficiently for your folly, but i hope the ill effects of it have been long since over. you and your brother are fond of quacking, a most dangerous disposition with regard to health. let slight things pass away themselves; in a case that requires assistance do nothing without advice. mr. crook is a very able man in his way. should a physician be at any time wanting, apply to dr. nesbitt, and tell him at leaving bath i recommended you all to his care. this indeed i intended to have mentioned to him, but it slipped my memory. i forgot mr. crook's bill, too, but desire i may have the amount by the next letter. pray what is the meaning of my hearing so seldom from bath? six weeks here, and but two letters! you were very tardy; what are your sisters about? i shall not easily forgive any future omissions. i suppose charles received my answer to his, and the _l_ from whately. i shall order another to be sent at christmas for the rent and other necessaries. i have not time at present to enter upon the subject of english authors, &c. but shall write to you upon that head when i get a little leisure. nothing can be conceived in a more deplorable state than the stage of dublin. i found two miserable companies opposing and starving each other. i chose the least bad of them; and, wretched as they are, it has had no effect on my nights, numbers having been turned away every time i played, and the receipts have been larger than when i had barry, his wife, and mrs. fitz-henry to play with me. however, i shall not be able to continue it long, as there is no possibility of getting up a sufficient number of plays with such poor materials. i purpose to have done the week after next, and apply vigorously to the material point which brought me over. i find all ranks and parties very zealous for forwarding my scheme, and have reason to believe it will be carried in parliament after the recess, without opposition. it was in vain to have attempted it before, for never was party violence [footnote: the money-bill, brought forward this year under lord townsend's administration, encountered violent opposition, and was finally rejected.] carried to such a height as in this sessions; the house seldom breaking up till eleven or twelve at night. from these contests, the desire of improving in the article of elocution is become very general. there are no less than five persons of rank and fortune now waiting my leisure to become my pupils. remember me to all friends, particularly to our good landlord and landlady. i am, with love and blessing to you all, "your affectionate father, "thomas sheridan. "p. s.--tell your sisters i shall send the poplins as soon as i can get an opportunity." "dear father, "we have been for some time in hopes of receiving a letter, that we might know that you had acquitted us of neglect in writing. at the same time we imagine that the time is not far when writing will be unnecessary; and we cannot help wishing to know the posture of the affairs, which, as you have not talked of returning, seem probable to detain you longer than you intended. i am perpetually asked when mr. sheridan is to have his patent for the theatre, which all the irish here take for granted, and i often receive a great deal of information from them on the subject. yet i cannot help being vexed when i see in the dublin papers such bustling accounts of the proceedings of your house of commons, as i remember it was your argument against attempting any thing from parliamentary authority in england. however, the folks here regret you, as one that is to be fixed in another kingdom, and will scarcely believe that you will ever visit bath at all; and we are often asked if we have not received the letter which is to call us over. "i could scarcely have conceived that the winter was so near departing, were i not now writing after dinner by daylight. indeed the first winter-season is not yet over at bath. they have balls, concerts, &c. at the rooms, from the old subscription still, and the spring ones are immediately to succeed them. they are likewise going to perform oratorios here. mr. linley and his whole family, down to the seven year olds, are to support one set at the new rooms, and a band of singers from london another at the old. our weather here, or the effects of it, have been so uninviting to all kinds of birds, that there has not been the smallest excuse to take a gun into the fields this winter;--a point more to the regret of charles than myself. "we are all now in dolefuls for the princess dowager; but as there was no necessity for our being dressed or weeping mourners, we were easily provided. our acquaintances stand pretty much the same as when you left us,--only that i think in general we are less intimate, by which i believe you will not think us great losers. indeed, excepting mr. wyndham, i have not met with one person with whom i would wish to be intimate; though there was a mr. lutterel, (brother to the colonel,)-- who was some months ago introduced to me by an old harrow acquaintance, --who made me many professions at parting, and wanted me vastly to name some way in which he could be useful to me; but the relying on _acquaintances_, or _seeking_ of friendships, is a fault which i think i shall always have prudence to avoid. "lissy begins to be tormented again with the tooth-ache;--otherwise, we are all well. "i am, sir, your sincerely dutiful and affectionate son, "friday, feb. . "r. b. sheridan. "i beg you will not judge of my attention to the improvement of my hand- writing by this letter, as i am out of the way of a better pen." charles sheridan, now one-and-twenty, the oldest and gravest of the party, finding his passion for miss linley increase every day, and conscious of the imprudence of yielding to it any further, wisely determined to fly from the struggle altogether. having taken a solemn farewell of her in a letter, which his youngest sister delivered, he withdrew to a farm-house about seven or eight miles from bath, little suspecting that he left his brother in full possession of that heart, of which he thus reluctantly and hopelessly raised the siege. nor would this secret perhaps have been discovered for some time, had not another lover, of a less legitimate kind than either, by the alarming importunity of his courtship, made an explanation on all sides necessary. captain mathews, a married man and intimate with miss linley's family, presuming upon the innocent familiarity which her youth and his own station permitted between them, had for some time not only rendered her remarkable by his indiscreet attentions in public, but had even persecuted her in private with those unlawful addresses and proposals, which a timid female will sometimes rather endure, than encounter that share of the shame, which may be reflected upon herself by their disclosure. to the threat of self-destruction, often tried with effect in these cases, he is said to have added the still more unmanly menace of ruining, at least, her reputation, if he could not undermine her virtue. terrified by his perseverance, and dreading the consequences of her father's temper, if this violation of his confidence and hospitality were exposed to him, she at length confided her distresses to richard sheridan; who, having consulted with his sister, and, for the first time, disclosed to her the state of his heart with respect to miss linley, lost no time in expostulating with mathews, upon the cruelty, libertinism, and fruitlessness of his pursuit. such a remonstrance, however, was but little calculated to conciliate the forbearance of this professed man of gallantry, who, it appears by the following allusion to him under the name of lothario, in a poem written by sheridan at the time, still counted upon the possibility of gaining his object, or, at least, blighting the fruit which he could not reach:-- nor spare the flirting _cassoc'd rogue_, nor ancient cullin's polish'd brogue; nor gay _lothario's_ nobler name, that _nimrod_ to all female fame. in consequence of this persecution, and an increasing dislike to her profession, which made her shrink more and more from the gaze of the many, in proportion as she became devoted to the love of one, she adopted, early in , the romantic resolution of flying secretly to france and taking refuge in a convent,--intending, at the same time, to indemnify her father, to whom she was bound till the age of , by the surrender to him of part of the sum which mr. long had settled upon her. sheridan, who, it is probable, had been the chief adviser of her flight, was, of course, not slow in offering to be the partner of it. his sister, whom he seems to have persuaded that his conduct in this affair arose solely from a wish to serve miss linley, as a friend, without any design or desire to take advantage of her elopement, as a lover, not only assisted them with money out of her little fund for house-expenses, but gave them letters of introduction to a family with whom she had been acquainted at st. quentin. on the evening appointed for their departure,--while mr. linley, his eldest son, and miss maria linley, were engaged at a concert, from which the young cecilia herself had been, on a plea of illness, excused,--she was conveyed by sheridan in a sedan-chair from her father's house in the crescent, to a post-chaise which waited for them on the london road, and in which she found a woman whom her lover had hired, as a sort of protecting minerva, to accompany them in their flight. it will be recollected that sheridan was at this time little more than twenty, and his companion just entering her eighteenth year. on their arrival in london, with an adroitness which was, at least, very dramatic, he introduced her to an old friend of his family, (mr. ewart, a respectable brandy-merchant in the city,) as a rich heiress who had consented to elope with him to the continent;--in consequence of which the old gentleman, with many commendations of his wisdom for having given up the imprudent pursuit of miss linley, not only accommodated the fugitives with a passage on board a ship, which he had ready to sail from the port of london to dunkirk, but gave them letters of recommendation to his correspondents at that place, who with the same zeal and dispatch facilitated their journey to lisle. on their leaving dunkirk, as was natural to expect, the chivalrous and disinterested protector degenerated into a mere selfish lover. it was represented by him, with arguments which seemed to appeal to prudence as well as feeling, that, after the step which they had taken, she could not possibly appear in england again but as his wife. he was therefore, he said, resolved not to deposit her in a convent till she had consented, by the ceremony of a marriage, to confirm to him that right of protecting her, which he had now but temporarily assumed. it did not, we may suppose, require much eloquence to convince her heart of the truth of this reasoning; and, accordingly, at a little village, not far from calais, they were married about the latter end of march, , by a priest well known for his services on such occasions. they thence immediately proceeded to lisle, where miss linley, as she must still be called, giving up her intention of going on to st. quentin, procured an apartment in a convent, with the determination of remaining there, till sheridan should have the means of supporting her as his acknowledged wife. a letter which he wrote to his brother from this place, dated april , though it throws but little additional light on the narrative, is too interesting an illustration of it to be omitted here: "dear brother, "most probably you will have thought me very inexcusable for not having writ to you. you will be surprised, too, to be told that, except your letter just after we arrived, we have never received one line from bath. we suppose for certain that there are letters somewhere, in which case we shall have sent to every place almost but the right, whither, i hope, i have now sent also. you will soon see me in england. everything on our side has at last succeeded. miss l--- is now fixing in a convent, where she has been entered some time. this has been a much more difficult point than you could have imagined, and we have, i find, been extremely fortunate. she has been ill, but is now recovered; this, too, has delayed me. we would have wrote, but have been kept in the most tormenting expectation, from day to day, of receiving your letters; but as everything is now so happily settled here, i will delay no longer giving you that information, though probably i shall set out for england without knowing a syllable of what has happened with you. all is well, i hope; and i hope, too, that though you may have been ignorant, for some time, of our proceedings, _you_ never could have been uneasy lest anything should tempt me to depart, even in a thought, from the honor and consistency which engaged me at first. i wrote to m--- [footnote: mathews] above a week ago, which, i think, was necessary and right. i hope he has acted the one proper part which was left him; and, to speak from my _feelings_, i cannot but say that i shall be very happy to find no further disagreeable consequence pursuing him; for, as brutus says of caesar, &c.--if i delay one moment longer, i lose the post. "i have writ now, too, to mr. adams, and should apologize to you for having writ to him first, and lost my time for you. love to my sisters, miss l--- to all. "ever, charles, your affect. brother, "r. b. sheridan. "i need not tell you that we altered quite our route." the illness of miss linley, to which he alludes, and which had been occasioned by fatigue and agitation of mind, came on some days after her retirement to the convent; but an english physician, dr. dolman, of york, who happened to be resident at lisle at the time, was called in to attend her; and in order that she might be more directly under his care, he and mrs. dolman invited her to their house, where she was found by mr. linley, on his arrival in pursuit of her. after a few words of private explanation from sheridan, which had the effect of reconciling him to his truant daughter, mr. linley insisted upon her returning with him immediately to england, in order to fulfil some engagements which he had entered into on her account; and a promise being given that, as soon as these engagements were accomplished, she should be allowed to resume her plan of retirement at lisle, the whole party set off amicably together for england. on the first discovery of the elopement, the landlord of the house in which the sheridans resided had, from a feeling of pity for the situation of the young ladies,--now left without the protection of either father or brother,--gone off, at break of day, to the retreat of charles sheridan, and informed him of the event which had just occurred. poor charles, wholly ignorant till then of his brother's attachment to miss linley, felt all that a man may be supposed to feel, who had but too much reason to think himself betrayed, as well as disappointed. he hastened to bath, where he found a still more furious lover, mr. mathews, inquiring at the house every particular of the affair, and almost avowing, in the impotence of his rage, the unprincipled design which this summary step had frustrated. in the course of their conversation, charles sheridan let fall some unguarded expressions of anger against his brother, which this gentleman, who seems to have been eminently qualified for a certain line of characters indispensable in all romances, treasured up in his memory, and, as it will appear, afterwards availed himself of them. for the four or five weeks during which the young couple were absent, he never ceased to haunt the sheridan family, with inquiries, rumors, and other disturbing visitations; and, at length, urged on by the restlessness of revenge, inserted the following violent advertisement in the bath chronicle: "wednesday, april th, . "mr. richard s--- having attempted, in a letter left behind him for that purpose, to account for his scandalous method of running away from this place, by insinuations derogating from _my_ character, and that of a young lady, innocent as far as relates to _me_, or _my_ knowledge; since which he has neither taken any notice of letters, or even informed his own family of the place where he has hid himself; i can no longer think he deserves the treatment of a gentleman, and therefore shall trouble myself no further about him than, in this public method, to post him as a l---, and a treacherous s---. "and as i am convinced there have been many malevolent incendiaries concerned in the propagation of this infamous lie, if any of them, unprotected by _age_, _infirmities_, or profession, will dare to acknowledge the part they have acted, and affirm _to_ what they have said _of_ me, they may depend on receiving the proper reward of their villany, in the most public manner. the world will be candid enough to judge properly (i make no doubt) of any private abuse on this subject for the future; as nobody can defend himself from an accusation he is ignorant of. "thomas mathews." on a remonstrance from miss sheridan upon this outrageous proceeding, he did not hesitate to assert that her brother charles was privy to it;--a charge which the latter with indignation repelled, and was only prevented by the sudden departure of mathews to london from calling him to a more serious account for the falsehood. at this period the party from the continent arrived; and as a detail of the circumstances which immediately followed has been found in mr. sheridan's own hand-writing,--drawn up hastily, it appears, at the parade coffee-house, bath, the evening before his second duel with mr. mathews,--it would be little better than profanation to communicate them in any other words. "it has ever been esteemed impertinent to appeal to the public in concerns entirely private; but there now and then occurs a _private_ incident which, by being explained, may be productive of _public_ advantage. this consideration, and the precedent of a public appeal in the same affair, are my only apologies for the following lines:-- "mr. t. mathews thought himself essentially injured by mr. e. sheridan's having co-operated in the virtuous efforts of a young lady to escape the snares of vice and dissimulation. he wrote several most abusive threats to mr. s., then in france. he labored, with a cruel industry, to vilify his character in england. he publicly posted him as a scoundrel and a liar. mr. s. answered him from france (hurried and surprised), that he would never sleep in england till he had thanked him as he deserved. "mr. s. arrived in london at o'clock at night. at he is informed, by mr. s. ewart, that mr. m. is in town. mr. s. had sat up at canterbury, to keep his idle promise to mr. m.--he resolved to call on him that night, as, in case he had not found him in town, he had called on mr. ewart to accompany him to bath, being bound by mr. linley not to let anything pass between him and mr. m. till he had arrived thither. mr. s. came to mr. cochlin's, in crutched friars, (where mr. m. was lodged,) about half after twelve. the key of mr. c.'s door was lost; mr. s. was denied admittance. by two o'clock he got in. mr. m. had been previously down to the door, and told mr. s. he should be admitted, and had retired to bed again. he dressed, complained of the cold, endeavored to get heat into him, called mr. s. his _dear friend_, and forced him to--_sit down_. "mr. s. had been informed that mr. m. had sworn his death;--that mr. m. had, in numberless companies, produced bills on france, whither he meant to retire on the completion of his revenge. mr. m. had warned mr. ewart to advise his friend not even to come in his way without a sword, as he could not answer for the consequence. "mr. m. had left two letters for mr. s., in which he declares he is to be met with at any hour, and begs mr. s. will not _'deprive himself of so much sleep, or stand on any ceremony'_. mr. s. called on him at the hour mentioned. mr. s. was admitted with the difficulty mentioned. mr. s. declares that, on mr. m.'s perceiving that he came to answer then to his challenge, he does not remember ever to have seen a _man_ behave so perfectly dastardly. mr. m. detained mr. s. till seven o'clock the next morning. he (mr. m.) said he never meant to quarrel with mr. s. he convinced mr. s. that his enmity ought to be directed solely against his brother and another gentleman at bath. mr. s. went to bath...." [footnote: the remainder of this paper is omitted, as only briefly referring to circumstances which will be found more minutely detailed in another document.] on his arrival in bath, (whither he travelled with miss linley and her father,) sheridan lost not a moment in ascertaining the falsehood of the charge against his brother. while charles, however, indignantly denied the flagitious conduct imputed to him by mathews, he expressed his opinion of the step which sheridan and miss linley had taken, in terms of considerable warmth, which were overheard by some of the family. as soon as the young ladies had retired to bed, the two brothers, without any announcement of their intention, set off post together for london, sheridan having previously written the following letter to mr. wade, the master of the ceremonies. "sir, "i ought to apologize to you for troubling you again on a subject which should concern so few. "i find mr. mathews's behavior to have been such that i cannot be satisfied with his _concession_, as a _consequence_ of an _explanation_ from me. i called on mr. mathews last wednesday night at mr. cochlin's, without the smallest expectation of coming to any _verbal_ explanation with him. a proposal of a _pacific_ meeting the next day was the consequence, which ended in those advertisements and the letter to you. as for mr. mathews's honor or _spirit_ in this whole affair, i shall only add that a few hours may possibly give some proof of the latter; while, in my own justification, i affirm that it was far from being my fault that this point now remains to be determined. "on discovering mr. mathews's _benevolent_ interposition in my own family, i have counter-ordered the advertisements that were agreed on, as i think even an _explanation_ would now misbecome me; an agreement to them was the effect more of mere _charity_ than _judgment_. as i find it necessary to make _all_ my sentiments as public as possible, your declaring this will greatly oblige "g your very humble servant, "r. b. sheridan." "sat. o'clock, may d, . "to william wade, esq." on the following day (sunday), when the young gentlemen did not appear, the alarm of their sisters was not a little increased, by hearing that high words had been exchanged the evening before, and that it was feared a duel between the brothers would be the consequence. though unable to credit this dreadful surmise, yet full of the various apprehensions which such mystery was calculated to inspire, they had instant recourse to miss linley, the fair _helen_ of all this strife, as the person most likely to be acquainted with their brother richard's designs, and to relieve them from the suspense under which they labored. she, however, was as ignorant of the transaction as themselves, and their mutual distress being heightened by sympathy, a scene of tears and fainting-fits ensued, of which no less remarkable a person than doctor priestley, who lodged in mr. linley's house at the time, happened to be a witness. on the arrival of the brothers in town, richard sheridan instantly called mathews out. his second on the occasion was mr. ewart, and the particulars of the duel are thus stated by himself, in a letter which he addressed to captain knight, the second of mathews, soon after the subsequent duel in bath. "sir, "on the evening preceding my last meeting with mr. mathews, mr. barnett [footnote: the friend of mathews in the second duel.] produced a paper to me, written by mr. mathews, containing an account of our former meetings in london. as i had before frequently heard of mr. mathews's relation of that affair, without interesting myself much in contradicting it, i should certainly have treated this in the same manner, had it not been seemingly authenticated by mr. knight's name being subscribed to it. my asserting that the paper contains much misrepresentation, equivocation, and falsity, might make it appear strange that i should apply to you in this manner for information on the subject: but, as it likewise contradicts what i have been told were mr. knight's sentiments and assertions on that affair, i think i owe it to his credit, as well as my own justification, first, to be satisfied from himself whether he really subscribed and will support the truth of the account shown by mr. mathews. give me leave previously to relate what _i_ have affirmed to have been a real state of our meeting in london, and which i am now ready to support on my honor, or my oath, as the best account i can give of mr. mathews's relation is, that it is almost directly opposite to mine. "mr. ewart accompanied me to hyde park, about six in the evening, where we met you and mr. mathews, and we walked together to the ring.--mr. mathews refusing to make any other acknowledgment than he had done, i observed that we were come to the ground: mr. mathews objected to the spot, and appealed to you.--we proceeded to the back of a building on the other side of the ring, the ground was there perfectly level. i called on him and drew my sword (he having previously declined pistols). mr. ewart observed a sentinel on the other side of the building; we advanced to another part of the park. i stopped again at a seemingly convenient place: mr. mathews objected to the observation of some people at a great distance, and proposed to retire to the hercules' pillars till the park should be clear: we did so. in a little time we returned. --i again drew my sword; mr. mathews again objected to the observation of a person who seemed to watch us. mr. ewart observed that the chance was equal, and engaged that no one should stop him, should it be necessary for him to retire to the gate, where we had a chaise and four, which was equally at his service. mr. mathews declared that he would not engage while any one was within sight, and proposed to defer it till next morning. i turned to you and said that 'this was trifling work,' that i could not admit of any delay, and engaged to remove the gentleman (who proved to be an officer, and who, on my going up to him, and assuring him that any interposition would be ill-timed, politely retired). mr. mathews, in the mean time, had returned towards the gate: mr. ewart and i called to you, and followed. we returned to the hercules' pillars, and went from thence, by agreement, to the bedford coffee house, where, the master being alarmed, you came and conducted us to mr. mathews at the castle tavern, henrietta street. mr. ewart took lights up in his hand, and almost immediately on our entering the room we engaged. i struck mr. mathews's point so much out of the line, that i stepped up and caught hold of his wrist, or the hilt of his sword, while the point of mine was at his breast. you ran in and caught hold of my arm, exclaiming, _'don't kill him.'_ i struggled to disengage my arm, and said his sword was in my power. mr. mathews called out twice or thrice, _'i beg my life.'_--we were parted. you immediately said, _'there, he has begged his life, and now there is an end of it;'_ and, on mr. ewart saying that, when his sword was in my power, as i attempted no more you should not have interfered, you replied that you _were wrong_, but that you had _done it hastily, and to prevent mischief_--or words to that effect. mr. mathews then hinted that i was rather _obliged to your interposition_ for the advantage; you declared that '_before_ you did so, both the swords were in mr. sheridan's power.' mr. mathews still seemed resolved to give it another turn, and observed that _he had never quitted his sword_.--provoked at this, i then swore (with too much heat, perhaps) that he should either give up his sword and i would break it, or go to his guard again. he refused-- but, on my persisting, either gave it into my hand, or flung it on the table, or the ground (_which_ i will not absolutely affirm). i broke it, and flung the hilt to the other end of the room. he exclaimed at this. i took a mourning sword from mr. ewart, and presenting him with mine, gave my honor that what had passed should never be mentioned by me, and he might now right himself again. he replied that he _'would never draw a sword against the man who had given him his life;'_-- but, on his still exclaiming against the indignity of breaking his sword (which he had brought upon himself), mr. ewart offered him the pistols, and some altercation passed between them. mr. mathews said, that he _could never show his face if it were known how his sword was broke-- that such a thing had never been done--that it cancelled all obligations, &c. &c._ you seemed to think it was wrong, and we both proposed, that if he never misrepresented the affair, it should not be mentioned by us. this was settled. i then asked mr. mathews, whether (as he had expressed himself sensible of, and shocked at the injustice and indignity he had done me in his advertisement) it did not occur to him that he owed me another satisfaction; and that, as it was now in his power to do it without discredit, i supposed he would not hesitate. this he absolutely refused, unless conditionally; i insisted on it, and said i would not leave the room till it was settled. after much altercation, and with much ill-grace, he gave the apology, which afterwards appeared. we parted, and i returned immediately to bath. i, there, to colonel gould, captain wade, mr. creaser, and others, mentioned the affair to mr. mathews's credit--said that chance having given me the advantage, mr. mathews had consented to that apology, and mentioned nothing of the sword. mr. mathews came down, and in two days i found the whole affair had been stated in a different light, and insinuations given out to the same purpose as in the paper, which has occasioned this trouble. i had _undoubted authority_ that these accounts proceeded from mr. mathews, and likewise that mr. knight had never had any share in them. i then thought i no longer owed mr. mathews the compliment to conceal any circumstance, and i related the affair to several gentlemen exactly as above. "now, sir, as i have put down nothing in this account but upon the most assured recollection, and as mr. mathews's paper either directly or equivocally contradicts almost every article of it, and as your name is subscribed to that paper, i flatter myself that i have a right to expect your answer to the following questions:--first, "is there any falsity or misrepresentation in what i have advanced above? "with regard to mr. mathews's paper--did i, in the park, seem in the smallest article inclined to enter into conversation with mr. mathews?-- he insinuates that i did. "did mr. mathews not _beg his life_?--he affirms he did not. "did i break his sword _without warning_?--he affirms i did it without warning, on his laying it on the table. "did i not offer him mine?--he omits it. "did mr. mathews give me the apology, as a point of generosity, _on my desisting to demand it_?--he affirms he did. "i shall now give my reasons for doubting your having authenticated this paper. " . because i think it full of falsehood and misrepresentation, and mr. knight has the character of a man of truth and honor. " . when you were at bath, i was informed that you had never expressed any such sentiments. " . i have been told that, in wales, mr. mathews never _told his story_ in the presence of mr. knight, who had never there insinuated any thing to my disadvantage. " . the paper shown me by mr. barnett contains (if my memory does not deceive me) three separate sheets of writing paper. mr. knight's evidence is annexed to the last, which contains chiefly a copy of our _first_ proposed advertisements, which mr. mathews had, in mr. knight's presence, agreed should be destroyed as totally void; and which (in a letter to colonel gould, by whom i had insisted on it) he declared upon his honor he knew nothing about, nor should ever make the least use of. "these, sir, are my reasons for applying to yourself, in preference to any appeal to mr. ewart, my second on that occasion, which is what i would wish to avoid. as for mr. mathews's assertions, i shall never be concerned at them. i have ever avoided any verbal altercation with that gentleman, and he has now secured himself from any other. "i am your very humble servant, "r. b. sheridan." it was not till tuesday morning that the young ladies at bath were relieved from their suspense by the return of the two brothers, who entered evidently much fatigued, not having been in bed since they left home, and produced the apology of mr. mathews, which was instantly sent to crutwell for insertion. it was in the following terms:-- "being convinced that the expressions i made use of to mr. sheridan's disadvantage were the effects of passion and misrepresentation, i retract what i have said to that gentleman's disadvantage, and particularly beg his pardon for my advertisement in the bath chronicle. "thomas mathews." [footnote: this appeared in the bath chronicle of may th. in another part of the same paper there is the following paragraph: "we can with authority contradict the account in the london evening post of last night, of a duel between mr. m--t--ws and mr. s--r--n, as to the time and event of their meeting, mr. s. having been at his place on saturday, and both these gentlemen being here at present."] with the odor of this transaction fresh about him, mr. mathews retired to his estate in wales, and, as he might have expected, found himself universally shunned. an apology may be, according to circumstances, either the noblest effort of manliness or the last resource of fear, and it was evident, from the reception which this gentleman experienced every where, that the former, at least, was not the class to which his late retraction had been referred. in this crisis of his character, a mr. barnett, who had but lately come to reside in his neighborhood, observing with pain the mortifications to which he was exposed, and perhaps thinking them, in some degree, unmerited, took upon him to urge earnestly the necessity of a second meeting with sheridan, as the only means of removing the stigma left by the first; and, with a degree of irish friendliness, not forgotten in the portrait of sir lucius o'trigger, offered himself to be the bearer of the challenge. the desperation of persons, in mr. mathews's circumstances, is in general much more formidable than the most acknowledged valor; and we may easily believe that it was with no ordinary eagerness he accepted the proposal of his new ally, and proceeded with him, full of vengeance, to bath. the elder mr. sheridan, who had but just returned from ireland, and had been with some little difficulty induced to forgive his son for the wild achievements he had been engaged in during his absence, was at this time in london, making arrangements for the departure of his favorite, charles, who, through the interest of mr. wheatley, an old friend of the family, had been appointed secretary to the embassy in sweden. miss linley--wife and no wife,--obliged to conceal from the world what her heart would have been most proud to avow, was also absent from bath, being engaged at the oxford music-meeting. the letter containing the preliminaries of the challenge was delivered by mr. barnett, with rather unnecessary cruelty, into the hands of miss sheridan, under the pretext, however, that it was a note of invitation for her brother, and on the following morning, before it was quite daylight, the parties met at kingsdown--mr. mathews, attended by his neighbor mr. barnett, and sheridan by a gentleman of the name of paumier, nearly as young as himself, and but little qualified for a trust of such importance and delicacy. the account of the duel, which i shall here subjoin, was drawn up some months after, by the second of mr. mathews, and deposited in the hands of captain wade, the master of the ceremonies. though somewhat partially colored, and (according to mr. sheridan's remarks upon it, which shall be noticed presently) incorrect in some particulars, it is, upon the whole, perhaps as accurate a statement as could be expected, and received, as appears by the following letter from mr. brereton, (another of mr. sheridan's intimate friends,) all the sanction that captain paumier's concurrence in the truth of its most material facts could furnish. "dear sir, "in consequence of some reports spread to the disadvantage of mr. mathews, it seems he obtained from mr. barnett an impartial relation of the last affair with mr. sheridan, directed to you. this account mr. paumier has seen, and i, at mr. mathews's desire, inquired from him if he thought it true and impartial: he says it differs, in a few immaterial circumstances only, from his opinion, and has given me authority to declare this to you. "i am, dear sir, "your most humble and obedient servant, "(signed) william brereton. "bath, oct. , ." _copy of a paper left by mr. barnett in the hands of captain william wade, master of the ceremonies at bath._ "on quitting our chaises at the top of kingsdown, i entered into a conversation with captain paumier, relative to some preliminaries i thought ought to be settled in an affair which was likely to end very seriously;--particularly the method of using their pistols, which mr. mathews had repeatedly signified his desire to use prior to swords, from a conviction that mr. sheridan would run in on him, and an ungentlemanlike scuffle probably be the consequence. this, however, was refused by mr. sheridan, declaring he had no pistols: captain paumier replied he had a brace (which i know were loaded).--by my advice, mr. mathews's were not loaded, as i imagined it was always customary to load on the field, which i mentioned to captain paumier at the white-hart, before we went out, and desired he would draw his pistols. he replied, as they were already loaded, and they going on a public road at that time of the morning, he might as well let them remain so, till we got to the place appointed; when he would on his honor draw them, which i am convinced he would have done had there been time; but mr. sheridan immediately drew his sword, and, in a vaunting manner, desired mr. mathews to draw (their ground was very uneven, and near the post- chaises).--mr. mathews drew; mr. sheridan advanced on him at first; mr. mathews in turn advanced fast on mr. sheridan; upon which he retreated, till he very suddenly ran in upon mr. mathews, laying himself exceedingly open, and endeavoring to get hold of mr. mathews's sword; mr. mathews received him on his point, and, i believe, disengaged his sword from mr. sheridan's body, and gave him another wound; which, i suppose, must have been either against one of his ribs, or his breast- bone, as his sword broke, which i imagine happened from the resistance it met with from one of those parts; but whether it was broke by that, or on the closing, i cannot aver. "mr. mathews, i think, on finding his sword broke, laid hold of mr. sheridan's sword-arm, and tripped up his heels: they both fell; mr. mathews was uppermost, with the hilt of his sword in his hand, having about six or seven inches of the blade to it, with which i saw him give mr. sheridan, as i imagined, a skin-wound or two in the neck; for it could be no more,--the remaining part of the sword being broad and blunt; he also beat him in the face either with his fist or the hilt of his sword. upon this i turned from them, and asked captain paumier if we should not take them up; but i cannot say whether he heard me or not, as there was a good deal of noise; however, he made no reply. i again turned to the combatants, who were much in the same situation: i found mr. sheridan's sword was bent, and he slipped his hand up the small part of it, and gave mr. mathews a slight wound in the left part of his belly: i that instant turned again to captain paumier, and proposed again our taking them up. he in the same moment called out, 'oh! he is killed, he is killed!'--i as quick as possible turned again, and found mr. mathews had recovered the point of his sword, that was before on the ground, with which he had wounded mr. sheridan in the belly: i saw him drawing the point out of the wound. by this time mr. sheridan's sword was broke, which he told us.--captain paumier called out to him, 'my dear sheridan, beg your life, and i will be yours for ever.' i also desired him to ask his life: he replied, 'no, by god, i won't.' i then told captain paumier it would not do to wait for those punctilios (or words to that effect), and desired he would assist me in taking them up. mr. mathews most readily acquiesced first, desiring me to see mr. sheridan was disarmed. i desired him to give me the tuck, which he readily did, as did mr. sheridan the broken part of his sword to captain paumier. mr. sheridan and mr. mathews both got up; the former was helped into one of the chaises, and drove off for bath, and mr. mathews made the best of his way for london. "the whole of this narrative i declare, on the word and honor of a gentleman, to be exactly true; and that mr. mathews discovered as much genuine, cool, and intrepid resolution as man could do. "i think i may be allowed to be an impartial relater of facts, as my motive for accompanying mr. mathews was no personal friendship, (not having any previous intimacy, or being barely acquainted with him,) but from a great desire of clearing up so ambiguous an affair, without prejudice to either party,--which a stranger was judged the most proper to do,--particularly as mr. mathews had been blamed before for taking a relation with him on a similar occasion. "(signed) william barnett. "october, ." [footnote: the following account is given as an "extract of a letter from bath," in the st. james's chronicle, july : "young sheridan and captain mathews of this town, who lately had a rencontre in a tavern in london, upon account of the maid of bath, miss linley, have had another this morning upon kingsdown, about four miles hence. sheridan is much wounded, but whether mortally or not is yet uncertain. both their swords breaking upon the first lunge, they threw each other down, and with the broken pieces hacked at each other, rolling upon the ground, the seconds standing by, quiet spectators. mathews is but slightly wounded, and is since gone off." the bath chronicle, on the day after the duel, (july d,) gives the particulars thus: "this morning, about three o'clock, a second duel was fought with swords, between captain mathews and mr. r. sheridan, on kingsdown, near this city, in consequence of their former dispute respecting an amiable young lady, which mr. m. considered as improperly adjusted; mr. s. having, since their first rencontre, declared his sentiments respecting mr. m. in a manner that the former thought required satisfaction. mr. sheridan received three or four wounds in his breast and sides, and now lies very ill. mr. m. was only slightly wounded, and left this city soon after the affair was over."] the comments which mr. sheridan thought it necessary to make upon this narrative have been found in an unfinished state among his papers; and though they do not, as far as they go, disprove anything material in its statements, (except, perhaps, with respect to the nature of the wounds which he received,) yet, as containing some curious touches of character, and as a document which he himself thought worth preserving, it is here inserted. "to william barnett, esq. "sir, "it has always appeared to me so impertinent for individuals to appeal to the public on transactions merely private, that i own the most apparent necessity does not prevent my entering into such a dispute without an awkward consciousness of its impropriety. indeed, i am not without some apprehension, that i may have no right to plead your having led the way in my excuse; as it appears not improbable that some ill- wisher to you, sir, and the cause you have been engaged in, betrayed you first into this _exact narrative,_ and then exposed it to the public eye, under pretence of vindicating your friend. however, as it is the opinion of some of my friends, that i ought not to suffer these papers to pass wholly unnoticed, i shall make a few observations on them with that moderation which becomes one who is highly conscious of the impropriety of staking his single assertion against the apparent testimony of three. this, i say, would be an impropriety, as i am supposed to write to those who are not acquainted with the parties. i had some time ago a copy of these papers from captain wade, who informed me that they were lodged in his hands, to be made public only by judicial authority. i wrote to you, sir, on the subject, to have from yourself an avowal that the account was yours; but as i received no answer, i have reason to compliment you with the supposition that you are not the author of it. however, as the name _william barnett_ is subscribed to it, you must accept my apologies for making use of that as the ostensible signature of the writer--mr. paumier likewise (the gentleman who went out with me on that occasion in the character of a second) having assented to everything material in it, i shall suppose the whole account likewise to be his; and as there are some circumstances which could come from no one but mr. mathews, i shall (without meaning to take from its authority) suppose it to be mr. mathews's also. "as it is highly indifferent to me whether the account i am to observe on be considered as accurately true or not, and i believe it is of very little consequence to any one else, i shall make those observations just in the same manner as i conceive any indifferent person of common sense, who should think it worth his while to peruse the matter with any degree of attention. in this light, the _truth_ of the articles which are asserted under mr. barnett's name is what i have no business to meddle with; but if it should appear that this _accurate narrative_ frequently contradicts itself as well as all probability, and that there are some positive facts against it, which do not depend upon any one's assertion, i must repeat that i shall either compliment mr. barnett's judgment, in supposing it not his, or his humanity in proving the _narrative_ to partake of that confusion and uncertainty, which his well-wishers will plead to have possessed him in the transaction. on this account, what i shall say on the subject need be no further addressed to you; and, indeed, it is idle, in my opinion, to address even the publisher of a newspaper on a point that can concern so few, and ought to have been forgotten by them. this you must take as my excuse for having neglected the matter so long. "the first point in mr. barnett's narrative that is of the least consequence to take notice of, is, where mr. m. is represented as having repeatedly signified his desire to use pistols prior to swords, from a conviction that mr. sheridan would run in upon him, and an ungentlemanlike scuffle probably be the consequence. this is one of those articles which evidently must be given to mr. mathews: for, as mr. b.'s part is simply to relate a matter of fact, of which he was an eye- witness, he is by no means to answer for mr. mathews's _private convictions_. as this insinuation bears an obscure allusion to a past transaction of mr. m.'s, i doubt not but he will be surprised at my indifference in not taking the trouble even to explain it. however, i cannot forbear to observe here, that had i, at the period which this passage alludes to, known what was the theory which mr. m. held of _gentlemanly scuffle_, i might, possibly, have been so unhappy as to put it out of his power ever to have brought it into practice. "mr. b. now charges me with having cut short a number of pretty preliminaries, concerning which he was treating with captain paumier, by drawing my sword, and, in a vaunting manner, desiring mr. m. to draw. though i acknowledge (with deference to these gentlemen) the full right of interference which seconds have on such occasions, yet i may remind mr. b. that he was acquainted with my determination with regard to pistols before we went on the down, nor could i have expected it to have been proposed. 'mr. m. drew; mr. s. advanced, &c.:'--here let me remind mr. b. of a circumstance, which i am convinced his memory will at once acknowledge." this paper ends here: but in a rougher draught of the same letter (for he appears to have studied and corrected it with no common care) the remarks are continued, in a hand not very legible, thus: "but mr. b. here represents me as drawing my sword in a _vaunting_ manner. this i take to be a reflection; and can only say, that a person's demeanor is generally regulated by their idea of their antagonist, and, for what i know, i may now be writing in a vaunting style. here let me remind mr. b. of an omission, which, i am convinced, nothing but want of recollection could occasion, yet which is a material point in an exact account of such an affair, nor does it reflect in the least on mr. m. mr. m. could not possibly have drawn his sword on my calling to him, as.... [footnote: it is impossible to make any connected sense of the passage that follows.] "mr. b.'s account proceeds, that i 'advanced first on mr. m.,' &c. &c.; 'which, (says mr. b.) i imagine, happened from the resistance it met with from one of those parts; but whether it was broke by that, or on the closing, i cannot aver.' how strange is the confusion here!--first, it certainly broke;--whether it broke against rib or no, doubtful;-- then, indeed, whether it broke at all, uncertain.... but of all times mr. b. could not have chosen a worse than this for mr. m.'s sword to break; for the relating of the action unfortunately carries a contradiction with it;--since if, on closing, mr. m. received me on his point, it is not possible for him to have made a lunge of such a nature as to break his sword against a rib-bone. but as the time chosen is unfortunate, so is the place on which it is said to have broke,--as mr. b. might have been informed, by inquiring of the surgeons, that i had no wounds on my breast or rib with the point of a sword, they being the marks of the jagged and blunted part." he was driven from the ground to the white-hart; where ditcher and sharpe, the most eminent surgeons of bath, attended and dressed his wounds,--and, on the following day, at the request of his sisters, he was carefully removed to his own home. the newspapers which contained the account of the affair, and even stated that sheridan's life was in danger, reached the linleys at oxford, during the performance, but were anxiously concealed from miss linley by her father, who knew that the intelligence would totally disable her from appearing. some persons who were witnesses of the performance that day, still talk of the touching effect which her beauty and singing produced upon all present--aware, as they were, that a heavy calamity had befallen her, of which she herself was perhaps the only one in the assembly ignorant. in her way back to bath, she was met at some miles from the town by a mr. panton, a clergyman, long intimate with the family, who, taking her from her father's chaise into his own, employed the rest of the journey in cautiously breaking to her the particulars of the alarming event that had occurred. notwithstanding this precaution, her feelings were so taken by surprise, that in the distress of the moment, she let the secret of her heart escape, and passionately exclaimed, "my husband! my husband!"--demanding to see him, and insisting upon her right as his wife to be near him, and watch over him day and night. her entreaties, however, could not be complied with; for the elder mr. sheridan, on his return from town, incensed and grieved at the catastrophe to which his son's imprudent passion had led, refused for some time even to see him, and strictly forbade all intercourse between his daughters and the linley family. but the appealing looks of a brother lying wounded and unhappy, had more power over their hearts than the commands of a father, and they, accordingly, contrived to communicate intelligence of the lovers to each other. in the following letter, addressed to him by charles at this time, we can trace that difference between the dispositions of the brothers, which, with every one except their father, rendered richard, in spite of all his faults, by far the most popular and beloved of the two. "london, july d, . "dear dick, "it was with the deepest concern i received the late accounts of you, though it was somewhat softened by the assurance of your not being in the least danger. you cannot conceive the uneasiness it occasioned to my father. both he and i were resolved to believe the best, and to suppose you safe, but then we neither of us could approve of the cause in which you suffer. all your friends here condemned you. you risked every thing, where you had nothing to gain, to give your antagonist the thing he wished, a chance for recovering his reputation. your courage was past dispute:--he wanted to get rid of the contemptible opinion he was held in, and you were good-natured enough to let him do it at your expense. it is not now a time to scold, but all your friends were of opinion you could, with the greatest propriety, have refused to meet him. for my part, i shall suspend my judgment till better informed, only i cannot forgive your preferring swords. "i am exceedingly unhappy at the situation i leave you in with respect to money matters, the more so as it is totally out of my power to be of any use to you. ewart was greatly vexed at the manner of your drawing for the last l .--i own, i think with some reason. "as to old ewart, what you were talking about is absolutely impossible; he is already surprised at mr. linley's long delay, and, indeed, i think the latter much to blame in this respect. i did intend to give you some account of myself since my arrival here, but you cannot conceive how i have been hurried,--even much pressed for time at this _present writing_. i must therefore conclude, with wishing you speedily restored to health, and that if i could make your purse as whole as that will shortly be, i hope, it would make me exceedingly happy. "i am, dear dick, yours sincerely, "c. f. sheridan." finding that the suspicion of their marriage, which miss linley's unguarded exclamation had suggested, was gaining ground in the mind of both fathers,--who seemed equally determined to break the tie, if they could arrive at some positive proof of its existence,--sheridan wrote frequently to his young wife, (who passed most of this anxious period with her relations at wells,) cautioning her against being led into any acknowledgment, which might further the views of the elders against their happiness. many methods were tried upon both sides, to ensnare them into a confession of this nature; but they eluded every effort, and persisted in attributing the avowal which had escaped from miss linley, before mr. panton, and others, to the natural agitation and bewilderment into which her mind was thrown at the instant. as soon as sheridan was sufficiently recovered of his wounds, [footnote: the bath chronicle of the th of july has the following paragraph: "it is with great pleasure we inform our readers that mr. sheridan is declared by his surgeon to be out of danger."] his father, in order to detach him, as much as possible, from the dangerous recollections which continually presented themselves in bath, sent him to pass some months at waltham abbey, in essex, under the care of mr. and mrs. parker of farm hill, his most particular friends. in this retirement, where he continued, with but few and short intervals of absence, from august or september, , till the spring of the following year, it is probable that, notwithstanding the ferment in which his heart was kept, he occasionally and desultorily occupied his hours in study. among other proofs of industry, which i have found among his manuscripts, and which may possibly be referred to this period, is an abstract of the history of england--nearly filling a small quarto volume of more than a hundred pages, closely written. i have also found in his early hand-writing (for there was a considerable change in his writing afterwards) a collection of remarks on sir william temple's works, which may likewise have been among the fruits of his reading at waltham abbey. these remarks are confined chiefly to verbal criticism, and prove, in many instances, that he had not yet quite formed his taste to that idiomatic english, which was afterwards one of the great charms of his own dramatic style. for instance, he objects to the following phrases:-- "then i _fell to_ my task again."--"these things _come_, with time, to be habitual."--"by which these people _come_ to be either scattered or destroyed."--"which alone could pretend to _contest_ it with them:" (upon which phrase he remarks, "it refers to nothing here:") and the following graceful idiom in some verses by temple:-- "thy busy head can find no gentle rest for thinking on the events," &c. &c. some of his observations, however, are just and tasteful. upon the essay "of popular discontents," after remarking, that "sir w. t. opens all his essays with something as foreign to the purpose as possible," he has the following criticism:--"page , 'represent misfortunes for faults, and _mole-hills_ for _mountains_,'--the metaphorical and literal expression too often coupled. p. , 'upon these four wheels the chariot of state may in all appearance drive easy and safe, or at least not be too much _shaken_ by the usual _roughness_ of ways, unequal _humors_ of _men_, or any common accidents,'--another instance of the confusion of the metaphorical and literal expression." among the passages he quotes from temple's verses, as faulty, is the following:-- "--that we may _see_, thou art indeed the empress of the _sea_." it is curious enough that he himself was afterwards guilty of nearly as illicit a rhyme in his song "when 'tis night," and always defended it:-- "but when the fight's _begun_, each serving at his _gun_." whatever grounds there may be for referring these labors of sheridan to the period of his retirement at waltham abbey, there are certainly but few other intervals in his life that could be selected as likely to have afforded him opportunities of reading. even here, however, the fears and anxieties that beset him were too many and incessant to leave much leisure for the pursuits of scholarship. however, a state of excitement may be favorable to the development of genius--which is often of the nature of those seas, that become more luminous the more they are agitated,--for a student, a far different mood is necessary; and in order to reflect with clearness the images that study presents, the mind should have its surface level and unruffled. the situation, indeed, of sheridan was at this time particularly perplexing. he had won the heart, and even hand, of the woman he loved, yet saw his hopes of possessing her farther off than ever. he had twice risked his life against an unworthy antagonist, yet found the vindication of his honor still incomplete, from the misrepresentations of enemies, and the yet more mischievous testimony of friends. he felt within himself all the proud consciousness of genius, yet, thrown on the world without even a profession, looked in vain for a channel through which to direct its energies. even the precarious hope, which his father's favor held out, had been purchased by an act of duplicity which his conscience could not approve; for he had been induced, with the view, perhaps, of blinding his father's vigilance, not only to promise that he would instantly give up a pursuit so unpleasing to him, but to take "an oath equivocal" that he never would marry miss linley. the pressure of these various anxieties upon so young and so ardent a mind, and their effects in alternately kindling and damping its spirit, could only have been worthily described by him who felt them, and there still exist some letters which he wrote during this time, to a gentleman well known as one of his earliest and latest friends. i had hoped that such a picture, as these letters must exhibit, of his feelings at that most interesting period of his private life, would not have been lost to the present work. but scruples--over-delicate, perhaps, but respectable, as founded upon a systematic objection to the exposure of _any_ papers, received under the seal of private friendship--forbid the publication of these precious documents. the reader must, therefore, be satisfied with the few distant glimpses of their contents, which are afforded by the answers of his correspondent, found among the papers entrusted to me. from these it appears, that through all his letters the same strain of sadness and despondency prevailed,--sometimes breaking out into aspirings of ambition, and sometimes rising into a tone of cheerfulness, which but ill concealed the melancholy under it. it is evident also, and not a little remarkable, that in none of these overflowings of his confidence, had he as yet suffered the secret of his french marriage with miss linley to escape; and that his friend accordingly knew but half the wretched peculiarities of his situation. like most lovers, too, imagining that every one who approached his mistress must be equally intoxicated with her beauty as himself, he seems anxiously to have cautioned his young correspondent (who occasionally saw her at oxford and at bath) against the danger that lay in such irresistible charms. from another letter, where the writer refers to some message, which sheridan had requested him to deliver to miss linley, we learn, that she was at this time so strictly watched, as to be unable to achieve--what to an ingenious woman is seldom difficult --an answer to a letter which her lover had contrived to convey to her. it was at first the intention of the elder mr. sheridan to send his daughters, in the course of this autumn, under the care of their brother richard, to france. but, fearing to entrust them to a guardian who seemed himself so much in need of direction, he altered his plan, and, about the beginning of october, having formed an engagement for the ensuing winter with the manager of the dublin theatre, gave up his house in bath, and set out with his daughters for ireland. at the same time mr. grenville, (afterwards marquis of buckingham,) who had passed a great part of this and the preceding summer at bath, for the purpose of receiving instruction from mr. sheridan in elocution, went also to dublin on a short visit, accompanied by mr. cleaver, and by his brother mr. thomas grenville--between whom and richard sheridan an intimacy had at this period commenced, which continued with uninterrupted cordiality ever after. some time previous to the departure of the elder mr. sheridan for ireland, having taken before a magistrate the depositions of the postillions who were witnesses of the duel at kingsdown, he had earnestly entreated of his son to join him in a prosecution against mathews, whose conduct on the occasion he and others considered as by no means that of a fair and honorable antagonist. it was in contemplation of a measure of this nature, that the account of the meeting already given was drawn up by mr. barnett, and deposited in the hands of captain wade. though sheridan refused to join in legal proceedings--from an unwillingness, perhaps, to keep miss linley's name any longer afloat upon public conversation--yet this revival of the subject, and the conflicting statements to which it gave rise, produced naturally in both parties a relapse of angry feelings, which was very near ending in a third duel between them. the authenticity given by captain paumier's name to a narrative which sheridan considered false and injurious, was for some time a source of considerable mortification to him; and it must be owned, that the helpless irresolution of this gentleman during the duel, and his weak acquiescence in these misrepresentations afterwards, showed him as unfit to be trusted with the life as with the character of his friend. how nearly this new train of misunderstanding had led to another explosion, appears from one of the letters already referred to, written in december, and directed to sheridan at the bedford coffee-house, covent garden, in which the writer expresses the most friendly and anxious alarm at the intelligence which he has just received,--implores of sheridan to moderate his rage, and reminds him how often he had resolved never to have any concern with mathews again. some explanation, however, took place, as we collect from a letter dated a few days later; and the world was thus spared not only such an instance of inveteracy, as three duels between the same two men would have exhibited, but, perhaps, the premature loss of a life to which we are indebted, for an example as noble in its excitements, and a lesson as useful in its warnings, as ever genius and its errors have bequeathed to mankind. the following lent, miss linley appeared in the oratorios at covent garden; and sheridan, who, from the nearness of his retreat to london, (to use a phrase of his own, repeated in one of his friend's letters), "trod upon the heels of perilous probabilities," though prevented by the vigilance of her father from a private interview, had frequent opportunities of seeing her in public. among many other stratagems which he contrived, for the purpose of exchanging a few words with her, he more than once disguised himself as a hackney-coachman, and drove her home from the theatre. it appears, however, that a serious misunderstanding at this time occurred between them,--originating probably in some of those paroxysms of jealousy, into which a lover like sheridan must have been continually thrown, by the numerous admirers and pursuers of all kinds, which the beauty and celebrity of his mistress attracted. among various alliances invented for her by the public at this period, it was rumored that she was about to be married to sir thomas clarges; and in the bath chronicle of april, , a correspondence is given as authentic between her and "lord grosvenor," which, though pretty evidently a fabrication, yet proves the high opinion entertained of the purity of her character. the correspondence is thus introduced, in a letter to the editor:--"the following letters are confidently said to have passed between lord g---r and the celebrated english syren, miss l--y. i send them to you for publication, not with any view to increase the volume of literary scandal, which, i am sorry to say, at present needs no assistance, but with the most laudable intent of setting an example for our modern belles, by holding out the character of a young woman, who, notwithstanding the solicitations of her profession, and the flattering example of higher ranks, has added _incorruptible virtue_ to a number of the most elegant qualifications." whatever may have caused the misunderstanding between her and her lover, a reconcilement was with no great difficulty effected, by the mediation of sheridan's young friend, mr. ewart; and, at length, after a series of stratagems and scenes, which convinced mr. linley that it was impossible much longer to keep them asunder, he consented to their union, and on the th of april, , they were married by license [footnote: thus announced in the gentleman's magazine:--"mr. sheridan of the temple to the celebrated miss linley of bath."]--mr. ewart being at the same time wedded to a young lady with whom he also had eloped clandestinely to france, but was now enabled, by the forgiveness of his father, to complete this double triumph of friendship and love. a curious instance of the indolence and procrastinating habits of sheridan used to be related by woodfall, as having occurred about this time. a statement of his conduct in the duels having appeared in one of the bath papers, so false and calumnious as to require an immediate answer, he called upon woodfall to request that his paper might be the medium of it. but wishing, as he said, that the public should have the whole matter fairly before them, he thought it right that the offensive statement should first be inserted, and in a day or two after be followed by his answer, which would thus come with more relevancy and effect. in compliance with his wish, woodfall lost not a moment in transcribing the calumnious article into his columns--not doubting, of course, that the refutation of it would be furnished with still greater eagerness. day after day, however, elapsed, and, notwithstanding frequent applications on the one side, and promises on the other, not a line of the answer was ever sent by sheridan,--who, having expended all his activity in assisting the circulation of the poison, had not industry enough left to supply the antidote. throughout his whole life, indeed, he but too consistently acted upon the principles, which the first lord holland used playfully to impress upon his son:--"never do to-day what you can possibly put off till to-morrow, nor ever do, yourself, what you can get any one else to do for you." chapter iii domestic circumstances.--fragments of essays found among his papers.-- comedy of "the rivals."--answer to "taxation no tyranny."--farce of "st. patrick's day." a few weeks previous to his marriage, sheridan, had been entered a student of the middle temple. it was not, however, to be expected that talents like his, so sure of a quick return of fame and emolument, would wait for the distant and dearly-earned emoluments which a life of labor in this profession promises. nor, indeed, did his circumstances admit of any such patient speculation. a part of the sum which mr. long had settled upon miss linley, and occasional assistance from her father (his own having withdrawn all countenance from him), were now the only resources, besides his own talents, left him. the celebrity of mrs. sheridan as a singer was, it is true, a ready source of wealth; and offers of the most advantageous kind were pressed upon them, by managers of concerts both in town and country. but with a pride and delicacy, which received the tribute of dr. johnson's praise, he rejected at once all thoughts of allowing her to reappear in public; and, instead of profiting by the display of his wife's talents, adopted the manlier resolution of seeking an independence by his own. an engagement had been made for her some months before by her father, to perform at the music- meeting that was to take place at worcester this summer. but sheridan, who considered that his own claims upon her had superseded all others, would not suffer her to keep this engagement. how decided his mind was upon the subject will appear from the following letter, written by him to mr. linley about a month after his marriage, and containing some other interesting particulars, that show the temptations with which his pride had, at this time, to struggle:-- "east burnham, may , . "dear sir, "i purposely deferred writing to you till i should have settled _all_ matters in london, and in some degree settled ourselves at our little home. some unforeseen delays prevented my finishing with swale till thursday last, when everything was concluded. i likewise settled with him for his own account, as he brought it to me, and, for a _friendly_ bill, it is pretty decent.--yours of the d instant did not reach me till yesterday, by reason of its missing us at morden. as to the principal point it treats of, i had given my answer some days ago, to mr. isaac of worcester. he had enclosed a letter to storace for my wife, in which he dwells much on the nature of the agreement you had made for her eight months ago, and adds, that 'as this is no new application, but a request that you (mrs. s.) will fulfil a positive engagement, the breach of which would prove of fatal consequence to our meeting, i hope mr. sheridan will think his honor in some degree concerned in fulfilling it.'--mr. storace, in order to enforce mr. isaac's argument, showed me his letter on the same subject to him, which begins with saying, 'we must have mrs. sheridan, somehow or other, if possible!'--the plain english of which is that, if her husband is not willing to let her perform, we will persuade him that he acts _dishonorably_ in preventing her from fulfilling a _positive engagement_. this i conceive to be the very worst mode of application that could have been taken; as there really is not common sense in the idea that my _honor_ can be concerned in my wife's fulfilling an engagement, which it is impossible she should ever have made.--nor (as i wrote to mr. isaac) can you, who gave the promise, whatever it was, be in the least charged with the breach of it, as your daughter's marriage was an event which must always have been looked to by them as quite as natural a period to your right over her as her death. and, in my opinion, it would have been just as reasonable to have applied to you to fulfil your engagement in the latter case as in the former. as to the _imprudence_ of declining this engagement, i do not think, even were we to suppose that my wife should ever on any occasion appear again in public, there would be the least at present. for instance, i have had a gentleman with me from oxford (where they do not claim the least _right_ as from an engagement), who has endeavored to place the idea of my complimenting the university with betsey's performance in the strongest light of advantage to me. this he said, on my declining to let her perform on any agreement. he likewise informed me, that he had just left lord north (the chancellor), who, he assured me, would look upon it as the highest compliment, and had expressed himself so to him. now, should it be a point of inclination or convenience to me to break my resolution with regard to betsey's performing, there surely would be more sense in obliging lord north (and probably from _his own_ application) and the university, than lord coventry and mr. isaac. for, were she to sing at worcester, there would not be the least compliment in her performing at oxford. indeed, they would have a right to _claim it_--particularly, as that is the mode of application they have chosen from worcester. i have mentioned the oxford matter merely as an argument, that i can have no kind of inducement to accept of the proposal from worcester. and, as i have written fully on the subject to mr. isaac, i think there will be no occasion for you to give any further reasons to lord coventry--only that i am sorry i cannot accept of his proposal, civilities, &c. &c., and refer him for my motives to mr. isaac, as what i have said to you on the subject i mean for you only, and, if more remains to be argued on the subject in general, we must defer it till we meet, which you have given us reason to hope will not be long first. "as this is a letter of business chiefly, i shall say little of our situation and arrangement of affairs, but that i think we are as happy as those who wish us best could desire. there is but one thing that has the least weight upon me, though it is one i was prepared for. but time, while it strengthens the other blessings we possess, will, i hope, add that to the number. you will know that i speak with regard to my father. betsey informs me you have written to him again--have you heard from him?.... "i should hope to hear from you very soon, and i assure you, you shall now find me a very exact correspondent; though i hope you will not give me leave to confirm my character in that respect before we meet. "as there is with this a letter for polly and you, i shall only charge you with mine and betsey's best love to her, mother, and tom, &c. &c., and believe me your sincere friend and affectionate son, "r. b. sheridan." at east burnham, from whence this letter is dated, they were now living in a small cottage, to which they had retired immediately on their marriage, and to which they often looked back with a sigh in after- times, when they were more prosperous, but less happy. it was during a very short absence from this cottage, that the following lines were written by him:-- "teach me, kind hymen, teach, for thou must be my only tutor now,-- teach me some innocent employ, that shall the hateful thought destroy, that i this whole long night must pass in exile from my love's embrace. alas, thou hast no wings, oh time! [footnote: it will be perceived that the eight following lines are the foundation of the song "what bard, oh time," in the duenna.] it was some thoughtless lover's rhyme, who, writing in his chloe's view, paid her the compliment through you. for had he, if he truly lov'd, but once the pangs of absence prov'd, he'd cropt thy wings, and, in their stead, have painted thee with heels of lead. but 'tis the temper of the mind, where we thy regulator find. still o'er the gay and o'er the young unfelt steps you flit along,-- as virgil's nymph o'er ripen'd corn, with such ethereal haste was borne, that every stock, with upright head, denied the pressure of her tread. but o'er the wretched, oh, how slow and heavy sweeps thy scythe of woe! oppress'd beneath each stroke they bow, thy course engraven on their brow: a day of absence shall consume the glow of youth and manhood's bloom, and one short night of anxious fear shall leave the wrinkles of a year. for me who, when i'm happy, owe no thanks to fortune that i'm so, who long have learned to look at one dear object, and at one alone, for all the joy, or all the sorrow, that gilds the day, or threats the morrow, i never felt thy footsteps light, but when sweet love did aid thy flight, and, banish'd from his blest dominion, i cared not for thy borrowed pinion. true, she is mine, and, since she's mine, at trifles i should not repine; but oh, the miser's real pleasure is not in knowing he has treasure; he must behold his golden store, and feel, and count his riches o'er. thus i, of one dear gem possest, and in that treasure only blest, there every day would seek delight, and clasp the casket every night." towards the winter they went to lodge for a short time with storace, the intimate friend of mr. linley, and in the following year attained that first step of independence, a house to themselves; mr. linley having kindly supplied the furniture of their new residence, which was in orchard-street, portman-square. during the summer of , they passed some time at mr. canning's and lord coventry's; but, so little did these visits interfere with the literary industry of sheridan, that, as appears from the following letter, written to mr. linley in november, he had not only at that time finished his play of the rivals, but was on the point of "sending a hook to the press:"-- "dear sir, "nov. th . "if i were to attempt to make as many apologies as my long omission in writing to you requires, i should have no room for any other subject. one excuse only i shall bring forward, which is, that i have been exceedingly employed, and i believe _very profitably_. however, before i explain how, i must ease my mind on a subject that much more nearly concerns me than any point of business or profit. i must premise to you that betsey is now very well, before i tell you abruptly that she has encountered another disappointment, and consequent indisposition.... however, she is now getting entirely over it, and she shall never take any journey of the kind again. i inform you of this now, that you may not be alarmed by any accounts from some other quarter, which might lead you to fear she was going to have such an illness as last year, of which i assure you, upon my honor, there is not the least apprehension. if i did not write now, betsey would write herself, and in a day she will make you quite easy on this head. "i have been very seriously at work on a book, which i am just now sending to the press, and which i think will do me some credit, if it leads to nothing else. however, the profitable affair is of another nature. there will be a _comedy_ of mine in rehearsal at covent- garden within a few days. i did not set to work on it till within a few days of my setting out for _crome_, so you may think i have not, for these last six weeks, been very idle. i have done it at mr. harris's (the manager's) own request; it is now complete in his hands, and preparing for the stage. he, and some of his friends also who have heard it, assure me in the most flattering terms that there is not a doubt of its success. it will be very well played, and harris tells me that the least shilling i shall get (if it succeeds) will be six hundred pounds. i shall make no secret of it towards the time of representation, that it may not lose any support my friends can give it. i had not written a line of it two months ago, except a scene or two, which i believe you have seen in an odd act of a little farce. "mr. stanley was with me a day or two ago on the subject of the oratorios. i found mr. smith has declined, and is retiring to bath. mr. stanley informed me that on his applying to the king for the continuance of his favor, he was desired by his majesty to make me an offer of mr. smith's situation and partnership in them, and that he should continue his protection, &c. i declined the matter very civilly and very peremptorily. i should imagine that mr. stanley would apply to you;--i started the subject to him, and said you had twenty mrs. sheridans more. however, he said very little:--if he does, and you wish to make an alteration in your system at once, i should think you may stand in smith's place. i would not listen to him on any other terms, and i should think the king might be made to signify his pleasure for such an arrangement. on this you will reflect, and if any way strikes you that i can move in it, i need not add how happy i shall be in its success. * * * * * "i hope you will let me have the pleasure to hear from you soon, as i shall think any delay unfair,--unless you can plead that you are writing an opera, and a folio on music besides. accept betsey's love and duty. "your sincere and affectionate "r. b. sheridan." what the book here alluded to was, i cannot with any accuracy ascertain. besides a few sketches of plays and poems, of which i shall give some account in a subsequent chapter, there exist among his papers several fragments of essays and letters, all of which--including the unfinished plays and poems--must have been written by him in the interval between , when he left harrow, and the present year; though at what precise dates during that period there are no means of judging. among these there are a few political letters, evidently designed for the newspapers;--some of them but half copied out, and probably never sent. one of this description, which must have been written immediately on his leaving school, is a piece of irony against the duke of grafton, giving reasons why that nobleman should not lose his head, and, under the semblance of a defence, exaggerating all the popular charges against him. the first argument (he says) of the duke's adversaries, "is founded on the regard which ought to be paid to justice, and on the good effects which, they affirm, such an example would have, in suppressing the ambition of any future minister. but if i can prove that his ---- might be made a much greater example of by being suffered to live, i think i may, without vanity, affirm that their whole argument will fall to the ground. by pursuing the methods which they propose, viz. chopping off his ----'s head, i allow the impression would be stronger at first; but we should consider how soon that wears off. if, indeed, his ----'s crimes were of such a nature, as to entitle his head to a place on temple-bar, i should allow some weight to their argument. but, in the present case, we should reflect how apt mankind are to relent after they have inflicted punishment;--so that, perhaps, the same men who would have detested the noble lord, while alive and in prosperity, pointing him as a scarecrow to their children, might, after being witnesses to the miserable fate that had overtaken him, begin in their hearts to pity him; and from the fickleness so common to human nature, perhaps, by way of compensation, acquit him of part of his crimes; insinuate that he was dealt hardly with, and thus, by the remembrance of their compassion, on this occasion, be led to show more indulgence to any future offender in the same circumstances." there is a clearness of thought and style here very remarkable in so young a writer. in affecting to defend the duke against the charge of fickleness and unpunctuality, he says, "i think i could bring several instances which should seem to promise the greatest steadiness and resolution. i have known him make the council wait, on the business of the whole nation, when he has had an appointment to newmarket. surely, this is an instance of the greatest honor; and, if we see him so punctual in private appointments, must we not conclude that he is infinitely more so in greater matters? nay, when w----s [footnote: wilkes.] came over, is it not notorious that the late lord mayor went to his grace on that evening, proposing a scheme which, by securing this fire-brand, might have put an end to all the troubles he has caused? but his grace did not see him;--no, he was a man of too much honor;--he had _promised_ that evening to attend nancy parsons to ranelagh, and he would not disappoint her, but made three thousand people witnesses of his punctuality." there is another letter, which happens to be dated ( ), addressed to "novus,"--some writer in woodfall's public advertiser,--and appearing to be one of a series to the same correspondent. from the few political allusions introduced in this letter, (which is occupied chiefly in an attack upon the literary style of "novus,") we can collect that the object of sheridan was to defend the new ministry of lord north, who had, in the beginning of that year, succeeded the duke of grafton. junius was just then in the height of his power and reputation; and as, in english literature, one great voice always produces a multitude of echoes, it was thought at that time indispensable to every letter-writer in a newspaper, to be a close copyist of the style of junius: of course, our young political tyro followed this "mould of form" as well as the rest. thus, in addressing his correspondent:--"that gloomy seriousness in your style,--that seeming consciousness of superiority, together with the consideration of the infinite pains it must have cost you to have been so elaborately wrong,--will not suffer me to attribute such numerous errors to any thing but real ignorance, joined with most consummate vanity." the following is a specimen of his acuteness in criticising the absurd style of his adversary:--"you leave it rather dubious whether you were most pleased with the glorious opposition to charles i. or the dangerous designs of that monarch, which you emphatically call 'the arbitrary projects of a stuart's nature.' what do you mean by the projects of a man's _nature_? a man's natural disposition may urge him to the commission of some actions;--nature may instigate and encourage, but i believe you are the first that ever made her a projector." it is amusing to observe, that, while he thus criticises the style and language of his correspondent, his own spelling, in every second line, convicts him of deficiency in at least one common branch of literary acquirement:--we find _thing_ always spelt _think_;-- _whether_, _where_, and _which_, turned into _wether_, _were_, and _wich_;--and double _m's_ and _s's_ almost invariably reduced to "single blessedness." this sign of a neglected education remained with him to a very late period, and, in his hasty writing, or scribbling, would occasionally recur to the last. from these essays for the newspapers it may be seen how early was the bias of his mind towards politics. it was, indeed, the rival of literature in his affections during all the early part of his life, and, at length,--whether luckily for himself or not it is difficult to say,-- gained the mastery. there are also among his manuscripts some commencements of periodical papers, under various names, "the detector," "the dramatic censor," &c.;--none of them, apparently, carried beyond the middle of the first number. but one of the most curious of these youthful productions is a letter to the queen, recommending the establishment of an institution, for the instruction and maintenance of young females in the better classes of life, who, from either the loss of their parents, or from poverty, are without the means of being brought up suitably to their station. he refers to the asylum founded by madame de maintenon, at st. cyr, as a model, and proposes that the establishment should be placed under the patronage of her majesty, and entitled "the royal sanctuary." the reader, however, has to arrive at the practical part of the plan, through long and flowery windings of panegyric, on the beauty, genius, and virtue of women, and their transcendent superiority, in every respect, over men. the following sentence will give some idea of the sort of eloquence with which he prefaces this grave proposal to her majesty:--"the dispute about the proper sphere of women is idle. that men should have attempted to draw a line for their orbit, shows that god meant them for comets, and above our jurisdiction. with them the enthusiasm of poetry and the idolatry of love is the simple voice of nature." there are, indeed, many passages of this boyish composition, a good deal resembling in their style those ambitious apostrophes with which he afterwards ornamented his speeches on the trial of hastings. he next proceeds to remark to her majesty, that in those countries where "man is scarce better than a brute, he shows his degeneracy by his treatment of women," and again falls into metaphor, not very clearly made out:--"the influence that women have over us is as the medium through which the finer arts act upon us. the incense of our love and respect for them creates the atmosphere of our souls, which corrects and meliorates the beams of knowledge." the following is in a better style:--"however, in savage countries, where the pride of man has not fixed the first dictates of ignorance into law, we see the real effects of nature. the wild huron shall, to the object of his love, become gently as his weary rein-deer;--he shall present to her the spoil of his bow on his knee;-he shall watch without reward the cave where she sleeps;--he shall rob the birds for feathers for her hair, and dive for pearls for her neck;--her look shall be his law, and her beauties his worship!" he then endeavors to prove that, as it is the destiny of man to be ruled by woman, he ought, for his own sake, to render her as fit for that task as possible:--" how can we be better employed than in perfecting that which governs us? the brighter they are, the more we shall be illumined. were the minds of all women cultivated by inspiration, men would become wise of course. they are a sort of pentagraphs with which nature writes on the heart of man;--what _she_ delineates on the original map will appear on the copy." in showing how much less women are able to struggle against adversity than men, he says,--"as for us, we are born in a state of warfare with poverty and distress. the sea of adversity is our natural element, and he that will not buffet with the billows deserves to sink. but you, oh you, by nature formed of gentler kind, can _you_ endure the biting storm? shall you be turned to the nipping blast, and not a door be open to give you shelter?" after describing, with evident seriousness, the nature of the institution of madame de maintenon, at st. cyr, he adds the following strange romantic allusion: "had such a charity as i have been speaking of existed here, the mild _parthenia_ and my poor _laura_ would not have fallen into untimely graves." the practical details of his plan, in which it is equally evident that he means to be serious, exhibit the same flightiness of language and notions. the king, he supposes, would have no objection to "grant hampton-court, or some other palace, for the purpose;" and "as it is (he continues, still addressing the queen) to be immediately under your majesty's patronage, so should your majesty be the first member of it. let the constitution of it be like that of a university, your majesty, chancellor; some of the first ladies in the kingdom sub-chancellors; whose care it shall be to provide instructors of real merit. the classes are to be distinguished by age--none by degree. for, as their qualification shall be gentility, they are all on a level. the instructors shall be women, except for the languages. latin and greek should not be learned;--the frown of pedantry destroys the blush of humility. the practical part of the sciences, as of astronomy, &c., should be taught. in history they would find that there are other passions in man than love. as for novels, there are some i would strongly recommend; but romances infinitely more. the one is a representation of the effects of the passions as they should be, though extravagant; the other, as they are. the latter is falsely called nature, and is a picture of depraved and corrupted society; the other is the glow of nature. i would therefore exclude all novels that show human nature depraved:--however well executed, the design will disgust." he concludes by enumerating the various good effects which the examples of female virtue, sent forth from such an institution, would produce upon the manners and morals of the other sex; and in describing, among other kinds of coxcombs, the cold, courtly man of the world, uses the following strong figure: "they are so clipped, and rubbed, and polished, that god's image and inscription is worn from them, and when he calls in his coin, he will no longer know them for his own." there is still another essay, or rather a small fragment of an essay, on the letters of lord chesterfield, which, i am inclined to think, may have formed a part of the rough copy of the book, announced by him to mr. linley as ready in the november of this year. lord chesterfield's letters appeared for the first time in , and the sensation they produced was exactly such as would tempt a writer in quest of popular subjects to avail himself of it. as the few pages which i have found, and which contain merely scattered hints of thoughts, are numbered as high as , it is possible that the preceding part of the work may have been sufficiently complete to go into the printer's hands, and that there,--like so many more of his "unshelled brood,"--it died without ever taking wing. a few of these memorandums will, i have no doubt, be acceptable to the reader. "lord c.'s whole system in no one article calculated to make a great man.--a noble youth should be ignorant of the things he wishes him to know;--such a one as he wants would be _too soon_ a man. "emulation is a dangerous passion to encourage, in some points, in young men; it is so linked with envy: if you reproach your son for not surpassing his school-fellows, he will hate those who are before him. emulation not to be encouraged even in virtue. true virtue will, like the athenian, rejoice in being surpassed; a friendly emulation cannot exist in two minds; one must hate the perfections in which he is eclipsed by the other;--thus, from hating the quality in his competitor, he loses the respect for it in himself:--a young man by himself better educated than two.--a roman's emulation was not to excel his countrymen, but to make his country excel: this is the true, the other selfish.--epaminondas, who reflected on the pleasure his success would give his father, most glorious;--an emulation for that purpose, true. "the selfish vanity of the father appears in all these letters--his sending the copy of a letter for his sister.--his object was the praise of his own mode of education.--how much more noble the affection of morni in ossian; 'oh, that the name of morni,' &c. &c. [footnote: "oh, that the name of morni were forgot among the people; that the heroes would only say, 'behold the father of gaul!'" sheridan applied this, more than thirty years after, in talking of his own son, on the hustings of westminster, and said that, in like manner, he would ask no greater distinction than for men to point at him and say, "there goes the father of tom sheridan."] "his frequent directions for constant employment entirely ill founded: --a wise man is formed more by the action of his own thoughts than by continually feeding it. 'hurry,' he says, 'from play to study; never be doing nothing'--i say, 'frequently be unemployed; sit and think.' _there are on every subject but a few leading and fixed ideas; their tracks may be traced by your own genius as well as by reading_:--a man of deep thought, who shall have accustomed himself to support or attack all he has read, will soon find nothing new: thought is exercise, and the mind, like the body, must not be wearied." these last two sentences contain the secret of sheridan's confidence in his own powers. his subsequent success bore him out in the opinions he thus early expressed, and might even have persuaded him that it was in consequence, not in spite, of his want of cultivation that he succeeded. on the th of january, , the comedy of the rivals was brought out at covent-garden, and the following was the cast of the characters on the first night:-- sir anthony absolute _mr. shuter_. captain absolute _mr. woodward_. falkland _mr. lewis_. acres _mr. quick_. sir lucius o'trigger _mr. lee_. fag _mr. lee lewes_. david _mr. dunstal_. coachman _mr. fearon_. mrs. malaprop _mrs. green_. lydia languish _miss barsanti_. julia _mrs. bulkley_. lucy _mrs. lessingham_. this comedy, as is well known, failed on its first representation,-- chiefly from the bad acting of mr. lee in sir lucius o'trigger. another actor, however, mr. clinch, was substituted in his place, and the play being lightened of this and some other incumbrances, rose at once into that high region of public favor, where it has continued to float so buoyantly and gracefully ever since. the following extracts from letters written at that time by miss linley (afterwards mrs. tickell) to her sister, mrs. sheridan, though containing nothing remarkable, yet, as warm with the feelings of a moment so interesting in sheridan's literary life, will be read, perhaps, with some degree of pleasure. the slightest outline of a celebrated place, taken on the spot, has often a charm beyond the most elaborate picture finished at a distance. "bath. "my dearest eliza, "we are all in the greatest anxiety about sheridan's play,--though i do not think there is the least doubt of its succeeding. i was told last night that it was his own story, and therefore called "the rivals;" but i do not give any credit to this intelligence.... "i am told he will get at least _l_. for his play." "bath, january, . "it is impossible to tell you what pleasure we felt at the receipt of sheridan's last letter, which confirmed what we had seen in the newspapers of the success of his play. the _knowing ones_ were very much disappointed, as they had so very bad an opinion of its success. after the first night we were indeed all very fearful that the audience would go very much prejudiced against it. but now, there can be no doubt of its success, as it has certainly got through more difficulties than any comedy which has not met its doom the first night. i know you have been very busy in writing for sheridan,--i don't mean _copying_, but _composing_;--it's true, indeed;--you must not contradict me when i say you wrote the much admired epilogue to the rivals. how i long to read it! what makes it more certain is, that my _father_ guessed it was _yours_ the first time he saw it praised in the paper." this statement respecting the epilogue would, if true, deprive sheridan of one of the fairest leaves of his poetic crown. it appears, however, to be but a conjecture hazarded at the moment, and proves only the high idea entertained of mrs. sheridan's talents by her own family. the cast of the play at bath, and its success there and elsewhere, are thus mentioned in these letters of miss linley: "bath, february , . "what shall i say of the rivals!--a compliment must naturally be expected; but really it goes so far beyond any thing i can say in its praise, that i am afraid my modesty must keep me silent. when you and i meet i shall be better able to explain myself, and tell you how much i am delighted with it. we expect to have it _here_ very soon:--it is now in rehearsal. you pretty well know the merits of our principal performers:--i'll show you how it is cast. sir anthony _mr. edwin_. captain absolute _mr. didier_. falkland _mr. dimond_. (a new actor of great merit, and a sweet figure.) sir lucius _mr. jackson_. acres _mr. keasberry_. fag _mr. brunsdon_. mrs. malaprop _mrs. wheeler_. miss lydia _miss wheeler_. (literally, a very pretty romantic girl, of seventeen.) julia _mrs. didier_ lucy _mrs. brett_. there, madam, do not you think we shall do your rivals some justice? i'm convinced it won't be done better any where out of london. i don't think mrs. mattocks can do julia very well." "bath, march , . "you will know by what you see enclosed in this frank my reason for not answering your letter sooner was, that i waited the success of sheridan's play in bath; for, let me tell you, i look upon our theatrical tribunal, though not in _quantity_, in _quality_ as good as yours, and i do not believe there was a critic in the whole city that was not there. but, in my life, i never saw any thing go off with such uncommon applause. i must first of all inform you that there was a very full house:--the play was performed inimitably well; nor did i hear, for the honor of our bath actors, one single prompt the whole night; but i suppose the poor creatures never acted with such shouts of applause in their lives, so that they were incited by that to do their best. they lost many of malaprop's good sayings by the applause: in short, i never saw or heard any thing like it;--before the actors spoke, they began their clapping. there was a new scene of the n. parade, painted by mr. davis, and a most delightful one it is, i assure you. every body says,--bowers in particular,--that yours in town is not so good. most of the dresses were entirely new, and very handsome. on the whole, i think sheridan is vastly obliged to poor dear keasberry for getting it up so well. we only wanted a good julia to have made it quite complete. you must know that it was entirely out of mrs. didier's style of playing: but i never saw better acting than keasberry's,--so all the critics agreed." "bath, august d, . "tell sheridan his play has been acted at southampton:--above a hundred people were turned away the first night. they say there never was any thing so universally liked. they have very good success at bristol, and have played the rivals several times:--miss barsanti, lydia, and mrs. canning, julia." to enter into a regular analysis of this lively play, the best comment on which is to be found in the many smiling faces that are lighted up around wherever it appears, is a task of criticism that will hardly be thought necessary. with much less wit, it exhibits perhaps more humor than the school for scandal, and the dialogue, though by no means so pointed or sparkling, is, in this respect, more natural, as coming nearer the current coin of ordinary conversation; whereas, the circulating medium of the school for scandal is diamonds. the characters of the rivals, on the contrary, are _not_ such as occur very commonly in the world; and, instead of producing striking effects with natural and obvious materials, which is the great art and difficulty of a painter of human life, he has here overcharged most of his persons with whims and absurdities, for which the circumstances they are engaged in afford but a very disproportionate vent. accordingly, for our insight into their characters, we are indebted rather to their confessions than their actions. lydia languish, in proclaiming the extravagance of her own romantic notions, prepares us for events much more ludicrous and eccentric, than those in which the plot allows her to be concerned; and the young lady herself is scarcely more disappointed than we are, at the tameness with which her amour concludes. among the various ingredients supposed to be mixed up in the composition of sir lucius o'trigger, his love of fighting is the only one whose flavor is very strongly brought out; and the wayward, captious jealousy of falkland, though so highly colored in his own representation of it, is productive of no incident answerable to such an announcement:--the imposture which he practises upon julia being perhaps weakened in its effect, by our recollection of the same device in the nut-brown maid and peregrine pickle. the character of sir anthony absolute is, perhaps, the best sustained and most natural of any, and the scenes between him and captain absolute are richly, genuinely dramatic. his surprise at the apathy with which his son receives the glowing picture which he draws of the charms of his destined bride, and the effect of the question, "and which is to be mine, sir,--the niece or the aunt?" are in the truest style of humor. mrs. malaprop's mistakes, in what she herself calls "orthodoxy," have been often objected to as improbable from a woman in her rank of life; but, though some of them, it must be owned, are extravagant and farcical, they are almost all amusing,--and the luckiness of her simile, "as headstrong as an _allegory_ on the banks of the nile," will be acknowledged as long as there are writers to be run away with, by the wilfulness of this truly "headstrong" species of composition. of the faults of sheridan both in his witty and serious styles--the occasional effort of the one, and the too frequent false finery of the other--some examples may be cited from the dialogue of this play. among the former kind is the following elaborate conceit:-- "_falk._ has lydia changed her mind? i should have thought her duty and inclination would now have pointed to the same object. "_abs._ ay, just as the eyes of a person who squints: when her love-eye was fixed on me, t'other--her eye of duty--was finely obliqued: but when duty bade her point that the same way, off turned t'other on a swivel, and secured its retreat with a frown." this, though ingenious, is far too labored--and of that false taste by which sometimes, in his graver style, he was seduced into the display of second-rate ornament, the following speeches of julia afford specimens:-- "then on the bosom of your wedded julia, you may lull your keen regret to slumbering; while virtuous love, with a cherub's hand, shall smooth the brow of upbraiding thought, and pluck the thorn from compunction." again:--"when hearts deserving happiness would unite their fortunes, virtue would crown them with an unfading garland of modest hurtless flowers: but ill-judging passion will force the gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends them when its leaves are dropt." but, notwithstanding such blemishes,--and it is easy for the microscopic eye of criticism to discover gaps and inequalities in the finest edge of genius,--this play, from the liveliness of its plot, the variety and whimsicality of its characters, and the exquisite humor of its dialogue, is one of the most amusing in the whole range of the drama; and even without the aid of its more splendid successor, the school for scandal, would have placed sheridan in the first rank of comic writers. a copy of the rivals has fallen into my hands, which once belonged to tickell, the friend and brother-in-law of sheridan, and on the margin of which i find written by him in many places his opinion of particular parts of the dialogue. [footnote: these opinions are generally expressed in two or three words, and are, for the most part, judicious. upon mrs. malaprop's quotation from shakspeare, "hesperian curls," &c. he writes, "overdone--fitter for farce than comedy." acres's classification of oaths, "this we call the _oath referential,"_ &c. he pronounces to be "very good, but above the speaker's capacity." of julia's speech, "oh woman, how true should be your judgment, when your resolution is so weak!" he remarks, "on the contrary, it seems to be of little consequence whether any person's judgment be weak or not, who wants resolution to act according to it."] he has also prefixed to it, as coming from sheridan, the following humorous dedication, which, i take for granted, has never before met the light, and which the reader will perceive, by the allusions in it to the two whig ministries, could not have been written before the year :-- "dedication to idleness. "my dear friend, "if it were necessary to make any apology for this freedom, i know you would think it a sufficient one, that i shall find it easier to dedicate my play to you than to any other person. there is likewise a propriety in prefixing your name to a work begun entirely at your suggestion, and finished under your auspices; and i should think myself wanting in gratitude to you, if i did not take an early opportunity of acknowledging the obligations which i owe you. there was a time--though it is so long ago that i now scarcely remember it, and cannot mention it without compunction--but there was a time, when the importunity of parents, and the example of a few injudicious young men of my acquaintance, had almost prevailed on me to thwart my genius, and prostitute my abilities by an application to serious pursuits. and if you had not opened my eyes to the absurdity and profligacy of such a perversion of the best gifts of nature, i am by no means clear that i might not have been a wealthy merchant or an eminent lawyer at this very moment. nor was it only on my first setting out in life that i availed myself of a connection with you, though perhaps i never reaped such signal advantages from it as at that critical period. i have frequently since stood in need of your admonitions, and have always found you ready to assist me--though you were frequently brought by your zeal for me into new and awkward situations, and such as you were at first, naturally enough, unwilling to appear in. amongst innumerable other instances, i cannot omit two, where you afforded me considerable and unexpected relief, and in fact converted employments, usually attended by dry and disgusting business, into scenes of perpetual merriment and recreation. i allude, as you will easily imagine, to those cheerful hours which i spent in the secretary of state's office and the treasury, during all which time you were my inseparable companion, and showed me such a preference over the rest of my colleagues, as excited at once their envy and admiration. indeed, it was very natural for them to repine at your having taught me a way of doing business, which it was impossible for them to follow--it was both original and inimitable. "if i were to say here all that i think of your excellencies, i might be suspected of flattery; but i beg leave to refer you for the test of my sincerity to the constant tenor of my life and actions; and shall conclude with a sentiment of which no one can dispute the truth, nor mistake the application,--that those persons usually deserve most of their friends who expect least of them. "i am, &c. &c. &c., "r. b. sheridan." the celebrity which sheridan had acquired, as the chivalrous lover of miss linley, was of course considerably increased by the success of the rivals; and, gifted as he and his beautiful wife were with all that forms the magnetism of society,--the power to attract, and the disposition to be attracted,--their life, as may easily be supposed, was one of gaiety both at home and abroad. though little able to cope with the entertainments of their wealthy acquaintance, her music and the good company which his talents drew around him, were an ample repayment for the more solid hospitalities which they received. among the families visited by them was that of mr. coote (purden), at whose musical parties mrs. sheridan frequently sung, accompanied occasionally by the two little daughters [footnote: the charm of her singing, as well as her fondness for children, are interestingly described in a letter to my friend mr. rogers, from one of the most tasteful writers of the present day:--"hers was truly 'a voice as of the cherub choir,' and she was always ready to sing without any pressing. she sung here a great deal, and to my infinite delight; but what had a particular charm was, that she used to take my daughter, then a child, on her lap, and sing a number of childish songs with such a playfulness of manner, and such a sweetness of look and voice, as was quite enchanting."] of mr. coote, who were the originals of the children introduced into sir joshua reynolds's portrait of mrs. sheridan as st. cecilia. it was here that the duchess of devonshire first met sheridan; and, as i have been told, long hesitated as to the propriety of inviting to her house two persons of such equivocal rank in society, as he and his wife were at that time considered. her grace was reminded of these scruples some years after, when "the player's son" had become the admiration of the proudest and fairest; and when a house, provided for the duchess herself at bath, was left two months unoccupied, in consequence of the social attractions of sheridan, which prevented a party then assembled at chatsworth from separating. these are triumphs which, for the sake of all humbly born heirs of genius, deserve to be commemorated. in gratitude, it is said, to clinch, the actor, for the seasonable reinforcement which he had brought to the rivals, mr. sheridan produced this year a farce called "st. patrick's day, or the scheming lieutenant," which was acted on the d of may, and had considerable success. though we must not look for the usual point of sheridan in this piece, where the hits of pleasantry are performed with the broad end or _mace_ of his wit, there is yet a quick circulation of humor through the dialogue,--and laughter, the great end of farce, is abundantly achieved by it. the moralizing of doctor rosy, and the dispute between the justice's wife and her daughter, as to the respective merits of militia-men and regulars, are highly comic:-- "psha, you know, mamma, i hate militia officers; a set of dunghill cocks with spurs on--heroes scratched off a church door. no, give me the bold upright youth, who makes love to-day, and has his head shot off to- morrow. dear! to think how the sweet fellows sleep on the ground, and fight in silk stockings and lace ruffles. "_mother._ oh barbarous! to want a husband that may wed you to-day and be sent the lord knows where before night; then in a twelve-month, perhaps, to have him come like a colossus, with one leg at new york and the other at chelsea hospital." sometimes, too, there occurs a phrase or sentence, which might be sworn to, as from the pen of sheridan, any where. thus, in the very opening:-- "_ st soldier._ i say you are wrong; we should all speak together, each for himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better. "_ d soldier._ right, jack, we'll _argue in platoons_." notwithstanding the great success of his first attempts in the drama, we find politics this year renewing its claims upon his attention, and tempting him to enter into the lists with no less an antagonist than dr. johnson. that eminent man had just published his pamphlet on the american question, entitled "taxation no tyranny;"--a work whose pompous sarcasms on the congress of philadelphia, when compared with what has happened since, dwindle into puerilities, and show what straws upon the great tide of events are even the mightiest intellects of this world. some notes and fragments, found among the papers of mr. sheridan, prove that he had it in contemplation to answer this pamphlet; and, however inferior he might have been in style to his practised adversary, he would at least have had the advantage of a good cause, and of those durable materials of truth and justice, which outlive the mere workmanship, however splendid, of talent. such arguments as the following, which johnson did not scruple to use, are, by the haughtiness of their tone and thought, only fit for the lips of autocrats:-- "when they apply to our compassion, by telling us that they are to be carried from their own country to be tried for certain offences, we are not so ready to pity them, as to advise them not to offend. while they are innocent, they are safe. "if they are condemned unheard, it is because there is no need of a trial. the crime is manifest and notorious," &c. &c. it appears from the fragments of the projected answer, that johnson's pension was one of the points upon which mr. sheridan intended to assail him. the prospect of being able to neutralize the effects of his zeal, by exposing the nature of the chief incentive from which it sprung, was so tempting, perhaps, as to overrule any feelings of delicacy, that might otherwise have suggested the illiberality of such an attack. the following are a few of the stray hints for this part of his subject:-- "it is hard when a learned man thinks himself obliged to commence politician.--such pamphlets will be as trifling and insincere as the venal quit-rent of a birth-day ode. [footnote: on another scrap of paper i find "the miserable quit-rent of an annual pamphlet." it was his custom in composition (as will be seen by many other instances) thus to try the same thought in a variety of forms and combinations, in order to see in which it would yield the greatest produce of wit.] "dr. j.'s other works, his learning and infirmities, fully entitled him to such a mark of distinction.--there was no call on him to become politician,--the easy quit-rent of refined panegyric, and a few grateful rhymes or flowery dedications to the intermediate benefactor.... "the man of letters is rarely drawn from obscurity by the inquisitive eye of a sovereign:--it is enough for royalty to gild the laurelled brow, not explore the garret or the cellar.--in this case, the return will generally be ungrateful--the patron is most possibly disgraced or in opposition--if he (the author) follows the dictates of gratitude, he must speak his patron's language, but he may lose his pension--but to be a standing supporter of ministry, is probably to take advantage of that competence against his benefactor.--when it happens that there is great experience and political knowledge, this is more excusable; but it is truly unfortunate where the fame of far different abilities adds weight to the attempts of rashness...." he then adds this very striking remark: "men seldom think deeply on subjects on which they have no choice of opinion:--they are fearful of encountering obstacles to their faith (as in religion), and so are content with the surface." dr. johnson says, in one part of his pamphlet,--"as all are born the subjects of some state or other, we may be said to have been all born consenting to some system of government." on this sheridan remarks:-- "this is the most slavish doctrine that ever was inculcated. if by our birth we give a tacit bond for our acquiescence in that form of government under which we were born, there never would have been an alteration of the first modes of government--no revolution in england." upon the argument derived from the right of conquest he observes--"this is the worst doctrine that can be with respect to america.--if america is ours by conquest, it is the conquerors who settled there that are to claim these powers." he expresses strong indignation at the "arrogance" with which such a man as montesquieu is described as "the fanciful montesquieu," by "an eleemosynary politician, who writes on the subject merely because he has been rewarded for writing otherwise all his lifetime." in answer to the argument against the claims of the americans, founded on the small proportion of the population that is really represented even in england, he has the following desultory memorandums:--"in fact, every man in england is represented--every man can influence people, so as to get a vote, and even if in an election votes are divided, each candidate is supposed equally worthy--as in lots--fight ajax or agamemnon. [footnote: he means to compare an election of this sort to the casting of lots between the grecian chiefs in the th book of the iliad.]--this an american cannot do in any way whatever. "the votes in england are perpetually shifting:--were it an object, few could be excluded.--wherever there is any one ambitious of assisting the empire, he need not put himself to much inconvenience.--if the doctor indulged his studies in cricklade or old sarum, he might vote:--the dressing meat, the simplest proof of existence, begets a title.--his pamphlet shows that he thinks he can influence some one: not an anonymous writer in the paper but contributes his mite to the general tenor of opinion.--at the eve of an election, his patriot [footnote: the name of a short pamphlet, published by dr. johnson, on the dissolution of parliament in .] was meant to influence more than the single voice of a rustic.--even the mob, in shouting, give votes where there is not corruption." it is not to be regretted that this pamphlet was left unfinished. men of a high order of genius, such as johnson and sheridan, should never enter into warfare with each other, but, like the gods in homer, leave the strife to inferior spirits. the publication of this pamphlet would most probably have precluded its author from the distinction and pleasure which he afterwards enjoyed in the society and conversation of the eloquent moralist, who, in the following year, proposed him as a member of the literary club, and always spoke of his character and genius with praise. nor was sheridan wanting on his part with corresponding tributes; for, in a prologue which he wrote about this time to the play of sir thomas overbury, he thus alludes to johnson's life of its unfortunate author:-- "so pleads the tale, that gives to future times the son's misfortunes, and the parent's crimes; there shall his fame, if own'd to-night, survive; fix'd by the hand that bids our language live." chapter iv. the duenna.--purchase of drury lane theatre.--the trip to scarborough.-- poetical correspondence with mrs. sheridan. mr. sheridan had now got into a current of dramatic fancy, of whose prosperous flow he continued to avail himself actively. the summer recess was employed in writing the duenna; and his father-in-law, mr. linley, assisted in selecting and composing the music for it. as every thing connected with the progress of a work, which is destined to be long the delight of english ears, must naturally have a charm for english readers, i feel happy at being enabled to give, from letters written at the time by mr. sheridan himself to mr. linley, some details relating to their joint adaptation of the music, which, judging from my own feelings, i cannot doubt will be interesting to others. mr. linley was at this time at bath, and the following letter to him is dated in october, , about a month or five weeks before the opera was brought out:-- "dear sir, "we received your songs to-day, with which we are exceedingly pleased. i shall profit by your proposed alterations; but i'd have you to know that we are much too chaste in london to admit such strains as your bath spring inspires. we dare not propose a peep beyond the ankle on any account; for the critics in the pit at a new play are much greater prudes than the ladies in the boxes. betsey intended to have troubled you with some music for correction, and i with some stanzas, but an interview with harris to-day has put me from the thoughts of it, and bent me upon a much more important petition. you may easily suppose it is nothing else than what i said i would not ask in my last. but, in short, unless you can give us three days in town, i fear our opera will stand a chance to be ruined. harris is extravagantly sanguine of its success as to plot and dialogue, which is to be rehearsed next wednesday at the theatre. they will exert themselves to the utmost in the scenery, &c., but i never saw any one so disconcerted as he was at the idea of there being no one to put them in the right way as to music. they have no one there whom he has any opinion of--as to fisher (one of the managers), he don't choose he should meddle with it. he entreated me in the most pressing terms to write instantly to you, and wanted, if he thought it could be any weight, to write himself. "is it impossible to contrive this? couldn't you leave tom [footnote: mrs. sheridan's eldest brother] to superintend the concert for a few days? if you can manage it, you will really do me the greatest service in the world. as to the state of the music, i want but three more airs, but there are some glees and quintets in the last act, that will be inevitably ruined, if we have no one to set the performers at least in the right way. harris has set his heart so much on my succeeding in this application, that he still flatters himself we may have a rehearsal of the music in orchard street to-morrow se'nnight. every hour's delay is a material injury both to the opera and the theatre, so that if you can come and relieve us from this perplexity, the return of the post must only forerun your arrival; or (what will make us much happier) might it not bring _you_? i shall say nothing at present about the lady 'with the soft look and manner,' because i am full of more than hopes of seeing you. for the same reason i shall delay to speak about g---; [footnote: garrick] only this much i will say, that i am more than ever positive i could make good my part of the matter; but that i still remain an infidel as to g.'s retiring, or parting with his share, though i confess he _seems_ to come closer to the point in naming his price. "your ever sincere and affectionate, "r. b. sheridan." on the opposite leaf of this letter is written, in mrs. s.'s handwriting,--"dearest father, i shall have no spirits or hopes of the opera, unless we see you. "eliza ann sheridan." in answer to these pressing demands, mr. linley, as appears by the following letter, signified his intention of being in town as soon as the music should be put in rehearsal. in the instructions here given by the poet to the musician, we may perceive that he somewhat apprehended, even in the tasteful hands of mr. linley, that predominance of harmony over melody, and of noise over both, which is so fatal to poetry and song, in their perilous alliance with an orchestra. indeed, those elephants of old, that used to tread down the ranks they were brought to assist, were but a type of the havoc that is sometimes made both of melody and meaning by the overlaying aid of accompaniments. "dear sir, "mr. harris wishes so much for us to get you to town, that i could not at first convince him that your proposal of not coming till the music was in rehearsal, was certainly the best, as you could stay but so short a time. the truth is, that what you mention of my getting a _master_ to teach the performers is the very point where the matter sticks, there being no such person as a master among them. harris is sensible there ought to be such a person; however, at present, every body sings there according to their own ideas, or what chance instruction they can come at. we are, however, to follow your plan in the matter; but can at no rate relinquish the hopes of seeing you in eight or ten days from the date of this; when the music (by the specimen of expedition you have given me) will be advanced as far as you mention. the parts are all writ out and doubled, &c. as we go on, as i have assistance from the theatre with me. "my intention was, to have closed the first act with a song, but i find it is not thought so well. hence i trust you with one of the inclosed papers; and, at the same time, you must excuse my impertinence in adding an idea of the cast i would wish the music to have; as i think i have heard you say you never heard leoni, [footnote: leoni played don carlos.] and i cannot briefly explain to you the character and situation of the persons on the stage with him. the first (a dialogue between quick and mrs. mattocks [footnote: isaac and donna louisa.]), i would wish to be a pert, sprightly air; for, though some of the words mayn't seem suited to it, i should mention that they are neither of them in earnest in what they say. leoni takes it up seriously, and i want him to show himself advantageously in the six lines beginning 'gentle maid.' i should tell you, that he sings nothing well but in a plaintive or pastoral style; and his voice is such as appears to me always to be hurt by much accompaniment. i have observed, too, that he never gets so much applause as when he makes a cadence. therefore my idea is, that he should make a flourish at 'shall i grieve thee?' and return to 'gentle maid,' and so sing that part of the tune again. [footnote: it will be perceived, by a reference to the music of the opera, that mr. linley followed these instructions implicitly and successfully.] after that, the two last lines, sung by the three, with the persons only varied, may get them off with as much spirit as possible. the second act ends with a _slow_ glee, therefore i should think the two last lines in question had better be brisk, especially as quick and mrs. mattocks are concerned in it. "the other is a song of wilson's in the third act. i have written it to your tune, which you put some words to, beginning, 'prithee, prithee, pretty man!' i think it will do vastly well for the words: don jerome sings them when he is in particular spirits; therefore the tune is not too light, though it might seem so by the last stanza--but he does not mean to be grave there, and i like particularly the returning to 'o the days when i was young!' we have mislaid the notes, but tom remembers it. if you don't like it for words, will you give us one? but it must go back to 'o the days,' and be _funny_. i have not done troubling you yet, but must wait till monday." a subsequent letter contains further particulars of their progress. "dear sir, "sunday evening next is fixed for our first musical rehearsal, and i was in great hopes we might have completed the score. the songs you have sent up of 'banna's banks,' and 'deil take the wars,' i had made words for before they arrived, which answer excessively well; and this was my reason for wishing for the next in the same manner, as it saved so much time. they are to sing 'wind, gentle evergreen,' just as you sing it (only with other words), and i wanted only such support from the instruments, or such joining in, as you should think would help to set off and assist the effort. i inclose the words i had made for 'wind, gentle evergreen,' which will be sung, as a catch, by mrs. mattocks, dubellamy, [footnote: don antonio.] and leoni. i don't mind the words not fitting the notes so well as the original ones. 'how merrily we live,' and 'let's drink and let's sing,' are to be sung by a company of _friars_ over their wine. [footnote: for these was afterwards substituted mr. linley's lively glee, "this bottle's the sun of our table."] the words will be parodied, and the chief effect i expect from them must arise from their being _known_; for the joke will be much less for these jolly fathers to sing any thing new, than to give what the audience are used to annex the idea of jollity to. for the other things betsey mentioned, i only wish to have them with such accompaniment as you would put to their _present_ words, and i shall have got words to my liking for them by the time they reach me. "my immediate wish at present is to give the performers their parts in the music (which they expect on sunday night), and for any assistance the orchestra can give to help the effect of the glees, &c., that may be judged of and added at a rehearsal, or, as you say, on inquiring how they have been done; though i don't think it follows that what dr. arne's method is must be the best. if it were possible for saturday and sunday's post to bring us what we asked for in our last letters, and what i now enclose, we should still go through it on sunday, and the performers should have their parts complete by monday night. we have had our rehearsal of the speaking part, and are to have another on saturday. i want dr. harrington's catch, but, as the sense must be the same, i am at a loss how to put other words. can't the under part ('a smoky house, &c.') be sung by one person and the other two change? the situation is-- quick and dubellamy, two lovers, carrying away father paul (reinold) in great raptures, to marry them:--the friar has before warned them of the ills of a married life, and they break out into this. the catch is particularly calculated for a stage effect; but i don't like to take another person's words, and i don't see how i can put others, keeping the same idea ('of seven squalling brats, &c.') in which the whole affair lies. however, i shall be glad of the notes, with reynold's part, if it is possible, as i mentioned. [footnote: this idea was afterwards relinquished.] "i have literally and really not had time to write the words of any thing more first and then send them to you, and this obliges me to use this apparently awkward way.... * * * * * "my father was astonishingly well received on saturday night in cato: i think it will not be many days before we are reconciled. "the inclosed are the words for 'wind, gentle evergreen;' a passionate song for mattocks, [footnote: the words of this song, in composing which the directions here given were exactly followed, are to be found in scarce any of the editions of the duenna. they are as follows:-- sharp is the woe that wounds the jealous mind, when treachery two fond hearts would rend; but oh! how keener far the pang to find that traitor in our bosom friend.] and another for miss brown, [footnote: "adieu, thou dreary pile."] which solicit to be clothed with melody by you, and are all i want. mattocks's i could wish to be a broken, passionate affair, and the first two lines may be recitative, or what you please, uncommon. miss brown sings hers in a joyful mood: we want her to show in it as much execution as she is capable of, which is pretty well; and, for variety, we want mr. simpson's hautboy to cut a figure, with replying passages, &c., in the way of fisher's '_m' ami, il bel idol mio_,' to abet which i have lugged in 'echo,' who is always allowed to play her part. i have not a moment more. yours ever sincerely." the next and last extract i shall give at present is from a letter, dated nov. , , about three weeks before the first representation of the opera. "our music is now all finished and rehearsing, but we are greatly impatient to see _you_. we hold your coming to be _necessary_ beyond conception. you say you are at our service after tuesday next; then 'i conjure you by that you do possess,' in which i include all the powers that preside over harmony, to come next thursday night (this day se'nnight), and we will fix a rehearsal for friday morning. from what i see of their rehearsing at present, i am become still more anxious to see you. "we have received all your songs, and are vastly pleased with them. you misunderstood me as to the hautboy song; i had not the least intention to fix on '_bel idol mio_,' however, i think it is particularly well adapted, and, i doubt not, will have a great effect...." an allusion which occurs in these letters to the prospect of a reconciliation with his father gives me an opportunity of mentioning a circumstance, connected with their difference, for the knowledge of which i am indebted to one of the persons most interested in remembering it, and which, as a proof of the natural tendency of sheridan's heart to let all its sensibilities flow in the right channel, ought not to be forgotten. during the run of one of his pieces, having received information from an old family servant that his father (who still refused to have any intercourse with him) meant to attend, with his daughters, at the representation of the piece, sheridan took up his station by one of the side scenes, opposite to the box where they sat, and there continued, unobserved, to look at them during the greater part of the night. on his return home, he was so affected by the various recollections that came upon him, that he burst into tears, and, being questioned as to the cause of his agitation by mrs. sheridan, to whom it was new to see him returning thus saddened from the scene of his triumph, he owned how deeply it had gone to his heart "to think that _there_ sat his father and his sisters before him, and yet that he alone was not permitted to go near them or speak to them." on the st of november, , the duenna was performed at covent garden, and the following is the original cast of the characters, as given in the collection of mr. sheridan's dramatic works:-- don ferdinand _mr. mattocks_. isaac mendoza _mr. quick_. don jerome _mr. wilson_. don antonio _mr. dubellamy_. father paul _mr. watson_. lopez _mr. wewitzer_. don carlos _mr. leoni_. francis _mr. fox_. lay brother _mr. baker_. donna louisa _mrs. mattocks_. donna clara _mrs. cargill_. [footnote: this is incorrect: it was miss brown that played donna clara for the first few nights.] the duenna _mrs. green_. the run of this opera has, i believe, no parallel in the annals of the drama. sixty-three nights was the career of the beggar's opera; but the duenna was acted no less than seventy-five times during the season, the only intermissions being a few days at christmas, and the fridays in every week;--the latter on account of leoni, who, being a jew, could not act on those nights. in order to counteract this great success of the rival house, garrick found it necessary to bring forward all the weight of his own best characters; and even had recourse to the expedient of playing off the mother against the son, by reviving mrs. frances sheridan's comedy of the discovery, and acting the principal part in it himself. in allusion to the increased fatigue which this competition with the duenna brought upon garrick, who was then entering on his sixtieth year, it was said, by an actor of the day, that "the old woman would be the death of the old man." the duenna is one of the very few operas in our language, which combine the merits of legitimate comedy with the attractions of poetry and song;--that divorce between sense and sound, to which dr. brown and others trace the cessation of the early miracles of music, being no where more remarkable than in the operas of the english stage. the "sovereign of the willing soul" (as gray calls music) always loses by being made exclusive sovereign,--and the division of her empire with poetry and wit, as in the instance of the duenna, doubles her real power. the intrigue of this piece (which is mainly founded upon an incident borrowed from the "country wife" of wycherley) is constructed and managed with considerable adroitness, having just material enough to be wound out into three acts, without being encumbered by too much intricacy, or weakened by too much extension. it does not appear, from the rough copy in my possession, that any material change was made in the plan of the work, as it proceeded. carlos was originally meant to be a jew, and is called "cousin moses" by isaac, in the first sketch of the dialogue; but possibly from the consideration that this would apply too personally to leoni, who was to perform the character, its designation was altered. the scene in the second act, where carlos is introduced by isaac to the duenna, stood, in its original state, as follows:-- "_isaac._ moses, sweet coz, i thrive, i prosper. "_moses._ where is your mistress? "_isaac._ there, you booby, there she stands. "_moses._ why she's damn'd ugly. "_isaac._ hush! (_stops his mouth_.) "_duenna._ what is your friend saying, don? "_isaac._ oh, ma'am, he's expressing his raptures at such charms as he never saw before. "_moses._ ay, such as i never saw before indeed. (_aside_.) "_duenna._ you are very obliging, gentlemen; but, i dare say, sir, your friend is no stranger to the influence of beauty. i doubt not but he is a lover himself. "_moses._ alas! madam, there is now but one woman living, whom i have any love for, and truly, ma'am, you resemble her wonderfully. "_duenna._ well, sir, i wish she may give you her hand as speedily as i shall mine to your friend. "_moses._ me her hand!--o lord, ma'am--she is the last woman in the world i could think of marrying. "_duenna._ what then, sir, are you comparing me to some wanton-- some courtezan? "_isaac._ zounds! he durstn't. "_moses._ o not i, upon my soul. "_duenna._ yes, he meant some young harlot--some-- "_moses._ oh, dear madam, no--it was my mother i meant, as i hope to be saved. "_isaac._ oh the blundering villain! (_aside_.) "_duenna._ how, sir--am i so like your mother? "_isaac._ stay, dear madam--my friend meant--that you put him in mind of what his mother was when a girl--didn't you, moses? "_moses._ oh yes, madam, my mother was formerly a great beauty, a great toast, i assure you;--and when she married my father about thirty years ago, as you may perhaps remember, ma'am-- "_duenna._ _i_, sir! i remember thirty years ago! "_isaac._ oh, to be sure not, ma'am--thirty years! no, no--it was thirty months he said, ma'am--wasn't it, moses? "_moses._ yes, yes, ma'am--thirty months ago, on her marriage with my father, she was, as i was saying, a great beauty;--but catching cold, the year afterwards, in child-bed of your humble servant-- "_duenna._ of you, sir!--and married within these thirty months! "_isaac._ oh the devil! he has made himself out but a year old!-- come, moses, hold your tongue.--you must excuse him, ma'am--he means to be civil--but he is a poor, simple fellow--an't you, moses? "_moses._ 'tis true, indeed, ma'am," &c. &c. &c. the greater part of the humor of moses here was afterwards transferred to the character of isaac, and it will be perceived that a few of the points are still retained by him. the wit of the dialogue, except in one or two instances, is of that accessible kind which lies near the surface--which may be enjoyed without wonder, and rather plays than shines. he had not yet searched his fancy for those curious fossils of thought which make the school for scandal such a rich museum of wit. of this precious kind, however, is the description of isaac's neutrality in religion--"like the blank leaf between the old and new testament." as an instance, too, of the occasional abuse of this research, which led him to mistake labored conceits for fancies, may be mentioned the far-fetched comparison of serenaders to egyptian embalmers, "extracting the brain through the ears." for this, however, his taste, not his invention, is responsible, as we have already seen that the thought was borrowed from a letter of his friend halhed. in the speech of lopez, the servant, with which the opera opens, there are, in the original copy, some humorous points, which appear to have fallen under the pruning knife, but which are not unworthy of being gathered up here:-- "a plague on these haughty damsels, say i:--when they play their airs on their whining gallants, they ought to consider that we are the chief sufferers,--we have all their ill-humors at second-hand. donna louisa's cruelty to my master usually converts itself into blows, by the time it gets to me:--she can frown me black and blue at any time, and i shall carry the marks of the last box on the ear she gave him to my grave. nay, if she smiles on any one else, i am the sufferer for it:--if she says a civil word to a rival, i am a rogue and a scoundrel; and, if she sends him a letter, my back is sure to pay the postage." in the scene between ferdinand and jerome (act ii. scene ) the following lively speech of the latter was, i know not why, left out:-- "_ferdin._ ....but he has never sullied his honor, which, with his title, has outlived his means. "_jerome._ have they? more shame for them!--what business have honor or titles to survive, when property is extinct? nobility is but as a helpmate to a good fortune, and, like a japanese wife, should perish on the funeral pile of the estate!" in the first act, too, (scene ) where jerome abuses the duenna, there is an equally unaccountable omission of a sentence, in which he compares the old lady's face to "parchment, on which time and deformity have engrossed their titles." though some of the poetry of this opera is not much above that ordinary kind, to which music is so often doomed to be wedded--making up by her own sweetness for the dulness of her help-mate--by far the greater number of the songs are full of beauty, and some of them may rank among the best models of lyric writing. the verses, "had i a heart for falsehood framed," notwithstanding the stiffness of this word "framed," and one or two other slight blemishes, are not unworthy of living in recollection with the matchless air to which they are adapted. there is another song, less known, from being connected with less popular music, which, for deep, impassioned feeling and natural eloquence, has not, perhaps, its rival, through the whole range of lyric poetry. as these verses, though contained in the common editions of the duenna, are not to be found in the opera, as printed in the british theatre, and, still more strangely, are omitted in the late collection of mr. sheridan's works, [footnote: for this edition of his works i am no further responsible than in having communicated to it a few prefatory pages, to account and apologize to the public for the delay of the life.] i should feel myself abundantly authorized in citing them here, even if their beauty were not a sufficient excuse for recalling them, under any circumstances, to the recollection of the reader:-- "ah, cruel maid, how hast thou changed the temper of my mind! my heart, by thee from love estrang'd, becomes, like thee, unkind. "by fortune favor'd, clear in fame, i once ambitious was; and friends i had who fann'd the flame, and gave my youth applause. "but now my weakness all accuse, yet vain their taunts on me; friends, fortune, fame itself i'd lose, to gain one smile from thee. "and only thou should'st not despise my weakness or my woe; if i am mad in others' eyes, 'tis thou hast made me so. "but days, like this, with doubting curst, i will not long endure-- am i disdain'd--i know the worst, and likewise know my cure. "if, false, her vow she dare renounce, that instant ends my pain; for, oh! the heart must break at once, that cannot hate again." it is impossible to believe that such verses as these had no deeper inspiration than the imaginary loves of an opera. they bear, burnt into every line, the marks of personal feeling, and must have been thrown off in one of those passionate moods of the heart, with which the poet's own youthful love had made him acquainted, and under the impression or vivid recollection of which these lines were written. in comparing this poem with the original words of the air to which it is adapted, (parnell's pretty lines, "my days have been so wondrous free,") it will be felt, at once, how wide is the difference between the cold and graceful effusions of taste, and the fervid bursts of real genius-- between the delicate product of the conservatory, and the rich child of the sunshine. i am the more confirmed in the idea that this song was written previously to the opera, and from personal feeling, by finding among his earlier pieces the originals of two other songs--"i ne'er could any lustre see," and "what bard, oh time, discover." the thought, upon which the latter turns, is taken from a poem already cited, addressed by him to mrs. sheridan in ; and the following is the passage that supplied the material:-- "alas, thou hast no wings, oh time, it was some thoughtless lover's rhyme, who, writing in his chloe's view, paid her the compliment through you. for, had he, if he truly lov'd, but once the pangs of absence prov'd, he'd cropt thy wings, and, in their stead, have painted thee with heels of lead." it will be seen presently, that this poem was again despoiled of some of its lines, for an epilogue which he began a few years after, upon a very different subject. there is something, it must be owned, not very sentimental in this conversion of the poetry of affection to other and less sacred uses--as if, like the ornaments of a passing pageant, it might be broken up after the show was over, and applied to more useful purposes. that the young poet should be guilty of such sacrilege to love, and thus steal back his golden offerings from the altar, to melt them down into utensils of worldly display, can only be excused by that demand upon the riches of his fancy, which the rapidity of his present career in the service of the dramatic muse occasioned. there is not the same objection to the approbation of the other song, which, it will be seen, is a selection of the best parts of the following anacreontic verses:-- "i ne'er could any lustre see [footnote: another mode of beginning this song in the ms.-- "go tell the maid who seeks to move my lyre to praise, my heart to love, no rose upon her cheek can live, like those assenting blushes give."] in eyes that would not look on me: when a glance aversion hints, i always think the lady squints. i ne'er saw nectar on a lip, but where my own did hope to sip. no pearly teeth rejoice my view, unless a 'yes' displays their hue-- the prudish lip, that _noes_ me back. convinces me the teeth are black, to me the cheek displays no roses, like that th' assenting blush discloses; but when with proud disdain 'tis spread, to me 'tis but a scurvy red. would she have me praise her hair? let her place my garland there. is her hand so white and pure? i must press it to be sure; nor can i be certain then, till it grateful press again. must i praise her melody? let her sing of love and me. if she choose another theme, i'd rather hear a peacock scream. must i, with attentive eye, watch her heaving bosom sigh? i will do so, when i see that heaving bosom sigh for me. none but bigots will in vain adore a heav'n they cannot gain. if i must religious prove to the mighty god of love, sure i am it is but fair he, at least, should hear my prayer. but, by each joy of his i've known, and all i yet shall make my own, never will i, with humble speech, pray to a heav'n i cannot reach." in the song, beginning "friendship is the bond of reason," the third verse was originally thus:-- "and, should i cheat the world and thee, one smile from her i love to win, such breach of human faith would be a sacrifice, and not a sin." to the song "'give isaac the nymph," there were at first two more verses, which, merely to show how judicious was the omission of them, i shall here transcribe. next to the advantage of knowing what to put into our writings, is that of knowing what to leave out:-- "to one thus accomplished i durst speak my mind, and flattery doubtless would soon make her kind; for the man that should praise her she needs must adore, who ne'er in her life receiv'd praises before. "but the frowns of a beauty in hopes to remove, should i prate of her charms, and tell of my love; no thanks wait the praise which she knows to be true, nor smiles for the homage she takes as her due." among literary piracies or impostures, there are few more audacious than the dublin edition of the duenna,--in which, though the songs are given accurately, an entirely new dialogue is substituted for that of sheridan, and his gold, as in the barter of glaucus, exchanged for such copper as the following:-- "_duen._ well, sir, i don't want to stay in your house; but i must go and lock up my wardrobe." "_isaac._ your wardrobe! when you came into my house you could carry your wardrobe in your comb-case, you could, you old dragon." another specimen:-- "_isaac._ her voice, too, you told me, was like a virginia nightingale; why, it is like a cracked warming-pan:--and as for dimples!--to be sure, she has the devil's own dimples.--yes! and you told me she had a lovely down upon her chin, like the down of a peach; but, damn me if ever i saw such down upon any creature in my life, except once upon an old goat." these jokes, i need not add, are all the gratuitous contributions of the editor. towards the close of the year , it was understood that garrick meant to part with his moiety of the patent of drury lane theatre, and retire from the stage. he was then in the sixtieth year of his age, and might possibly have been influenced by the natural feeling, so beautifully expressed for a great actor of our own time, by our greatest living writer: ----"higher duties crave some space between the theatre and the grave; that, like the roman in the capitol, i may adjust my mantle, ere i fall." [footnote: kemble's farewell address on taking leave of the edinburgh stage, written by sir walter scott.] the progress of the negotiation between him and mr. sheridan, which ended in making the latter patentee and manager, cannot better be traced than in sheridan's own letters, addressed at the time to mr. linley, and most kindly placed at my disposal by my friend mr. william linley. "sunday, dec. , . "dear sir, "i was always one of the slowest letter-writers in the world, though i have had more excuses than usual for my delay in this instance. the principal matter of business on which i was to have written to you, related to our embryo negotiation with garrick, of which i will now give you an account. "since you left town, mrs. ewart has been so ill, as to continue near three weeks at the point of death. this, of course, has prevented mr. e. from seeing anybody on business, or from accompanying me to garrick's. however, about ten days ago, i talked the matter over with him by myself, and the result was, appointing thursday evening last to meet him, and to bring ewart, which i did accordingly. on the whole of our conversation that evening, i began (for the first time) to think him _really serious_ in the business. he still, however, kept the reserve of giving the refusal to colman, though at the same time he did not hesitate to assert his confidence that colman would decline it. i was determined to push him on this point, (as it was really farcical for us to treat with him under such an evasion,) and at last he promised to put the question to colman, and to give me a decisive answer by the ensuing sunday (to-day). accordingly, within this hour, i have received a note from him, which (as i meant to show it my father) i here transcribe for you. "'mr. garrick presents his compliments to mr. sheridan, and, as he is obliged to go into the country for three days, he should be glad to see him upon his return to town, either on wednesday about or o'clock, or whenever he pleases. the party has no objection to the whole, but chooses no partner but mr. g. not a word of this yet. mr. g. sent a messenger on purpose, (i.e. to colman). he would call upon mr. s., but he is confined at home. your name is upon our list'. "this _decisive answer_ may be taken two ways. however, as mr. g. informed mr. ewart and me, that he had no authority or pretensions to treat for _the whole_, it appears to me that mr. garrick's meaning in this note is, that mr. colman _declines_ the purchase of _mr. garrick's share_, which is the point in debate, and the only part at present to be sold. i shall, therefore, wait on g. at the time mentioned, and, if i understand him right, we shall certainly without delay appoint two men of business and the law to meet on the matter, and come to a conclusion without further delay. "_according_ to his demand, the whole is valued at , _l_. he appears very shy of letting his books be looked into, as the test of the profits on this sum, but says it must be, in its nature, a purchase on speculation. however, he has promised me a rough estimate, of _his own_, of the entire receipts for the last seven years. but, after all, it must certainly be a _purchase on speculation_, without _money's worth_ being _made out_. one point he solemnly avers, which is, that he will never part with it under the price above- mentioned. "this is all i can say on the subject till wednesday, though i can't help adding, that i think we might _safely_ give five thousand pounds more on this purchase than richer people. the whole valued at , _l_., the annual interest is , _l_.; while this is _cleared_, the proprietors are safe,--but i think it must be _infernal_ management indeed that does not double it. "i suppose mr. stanley has written to you relative to your oratorio orchestra. the demand, i reckon, will be diminished one third, and the appearance remain very handsome, which, if the other affair takes place, you will find your account in; and, if you discontinue your partnership with stanley at drury lane, the orchestra may revert to whichever wants it, on the other's paying his proportion for the use of it this year. this is mr. garrick's idea, and, as he says, might in that case be settled by arbitration. "you have heard of our losing miss brown; however, we have missed her so little in the duenna, that the managers have not tried to regain her, which i believe they might have done. i have had some books of the music these many days to send you down. i wanted to put tom's name in the new music, and begged mrs. l. to ask you, and let me have a line on her arrival, for which purpose i kept back the index of the songs. if you or he have no objection, pray let me know. i'll send the music to-morrow. "i am finishing a two act comedy for covent-garden, which will be in rehearsal in a week. we have given the duenna a respite this christmas, but nothing else at present brings money. we have every place in the house taken for the three next nights, and shall, at least, play it fifty nights, with only the friday's intermission. "my best love and the compliments of the season to all your fire-side. "your grandson is a very magnificent fellow. [footnote: sheridan's first child, thomas, born in the preceding year.] "yours ever sincerely, "r. b. sheridan." "january , . "dear sir, "i left garrick last night too late to write to you. he has offered colman the refusal, and showed me his answer; which was (as in the note) that he was willing to purchase the whole, but would have no partner but garrick. on this, mr. garrick appointed a meeting with his partner, young leasy, and, in presence of their solicitor, treasurer, &c., declared to him that he was absolutely on the point of settling, and, if _he_ was willing, he might have the same price for his share; but that if he (leasy) would not sell, mr. garrick would, instantly, to another party. the result was, leasy's declaring his intention of not parting with his share. of this garrick again informed colman, who immediately gave up the whole matter. "garrick was extremely explicit, and, in short, we came to a final resolution. so that, if the necessary matters are made out to all our satisfactions, we may sign and seal a previous agreement within a fortnight. "i meet him again to-morrow evening, when we are to name a day for a conveyancer on our side, to meet his solicitor, wallace. i have pitched on a mr. phips, at the recommendation and by the advice of dr. ford. the three first steps to be taken are these,--our lawyer is to look into the titles, tenures, &c. of the house and adjoining estate, the extent and limitations of the patent, &c. we should then employ a builder (i think, mr. collins,) to survey the state and repair in which the whole premises are, to which g. entirely assents. mr. g. will then give us a fair and attested estimate from his books of what the profits have been, at an average, for these last seven years. [footnote: these accounts were found among mr. sheridan's papers. garrick's income from the theatre for the year - is thus stated:--"author _l_., salary, _l_., manager _l_."] this he has shown me in rough, and valuing the property at , _l_, the interest has exceeded ten percent. "we should, after this, certainly make an interest to get the king's promise, that, while the theatre is well conducted, &c. he will grant no patent to a third,--though g. seems confident that he never will. if there is any truth in professions and appearances, g. seems likely always to continue our friend, and to give every assistance in his power. "the method of our sharing the purchase, i should think, may be thus,-- ewart, to take , _l_., you , _l_, and i, , _l_.--dr. ford agrees, with the greatest pleasure, to embark the other five; and if you do not choose to venture so much, will, i dare say, share it with you. ewart is preparing his money, and i have a certainty of my part. we shall have a very useful ally in dr. ford; and my father offers his services on our own terms. we cannot unite garrick to our interests too firmly; and i am convinced his influence will bring leasy to our terms, if he should be ill-advised enough to desire to interfere in what he is totally unqualified for. "i'll write to you to-morrow relative to leasy's mortgage (which garrick has, and advises us to take), and many other particulars. when matters are in a certain train (which i hope will be in a week,) i suppose you will not hesitate to come to town for a day or two. garrick proposes, when we are satisfied with the bargain, to sign a previous article, with a penalty of ten thousand pounds on the parties who break from fulfilling the purchase. when we are once satisfied and determined in the business (which, i own, is my case), the sooner that is done the better. i must urge it particularly, as my confidential connection with the other house is peculiarly distressing, till i can with prudence reveal my situation, and such a treaty (however prudently managed) cannot long be kept secret, especially as leasy is now convinced of garrick's resolution. "i am exceedingly hurried at present, so, excuse omissions, and do not flag when we come to the point. i'll answer for it, we shall see many golden campaigns. "yours ever, "r. b. sheridan. "you have heard, i suppose, that foote is likely never to show his face again." "january st, . "dear sir, "i am glad you have found a person who will let you have the money at four per cent. the security will be very clear; but, as there is some degree of risk, as in case of fire, i think four per cent uncommonly reasonable.--it will scarcely be any advantage to pay it off, for your houses and chapel, i suppose, bring in much more. therefore, while you can raise money at four per cent, on the security of your theatrical share _only_, you will be right to alter, as little as you can, the present disposition of your property. "as to your quitting bath, i cannot see why you should doubt a moment about it. surely, the undertaking in which you embark such a sum as , _l_. ought to be the chief object of your attention--and, supposing you did not choose to give up all your time to the theatre, you may certainly employ yourself more profitably in london than in bath. but, if you are willing (as i suppose you will be) to make the theatre the great object of your attention, rely on it you may lay aside every doubt of not finding your account in it; for the fact is, we shall have nothing but our own equity to consult in making and obtaining any demand for exclusive trouble. leasy is utterly unequal to any department in the theatre. he has an opinion of me, and is very willing to let the whole burthen and ostensibility be taken off his shoulders. but i certainly should not give up my time and labor (for his superior advantage, having so much greater a share) without some exclusive advantage. yet, i should by no means make the demand till i had shown myself equal to the task. my father purposes to be with us but one year; and that only to give me what advantage he can from his experience. he certainly must be paid for his trouble, and so certainly must you. you have experience and character equal to the line you would undertake; and it never can enter into any body's head that you were to give your time or any part of your attention gratis, because you had a share in the theatre. i have spoke on this subject both to garrick and leasy, and you will find no demur on any side to your gaining a _certain_ income from the theatre--greater, i think, than you could make out of it--and in this the theatre will be acting only for its own advantage. at the same time you may always make leisure for a few select scholars, whose interest may also serve the greater cause of your patentee-ship. "i have had a young man with me who wants to appear as a singer in plays or oratorios. i think you'll find him likely to be serviceable in either. he is not one-and-twenty, and has no conceit. he has a good tenor voice--very good ear and a great deal of execution, of the right kind. he reads notes very quick, and can accompany himself. this is betsey's verdict, who sat in judgment on him on sunday last. i have given him no answer, but engaged him to wait till you come to town. "you must not regard the reports in the paper about a third theatre-- that's all nonsense. "betsey's and my love to all. your grandson astonishes every body by his vivacity, his talents for music and poetry, and the most perfect integrity of mind. "yours most sincerely, "r. b. sheridan." in the following june the contract with garrick was perfected; and in a paper drawn up by mr. sheridan many years after, i find the shares of the respective purchasers thus stated:- mr. sheridan, two fourteenths of the whole. , _l_. mr. linley, ditto , _l_. dr. ford, ditto , _l_. mr. ewart, it will be perceived, though originally mentioned as one of the parties, had no concern in the final arrangement. though the letters, just cited, furnish a more detailed account than has yet been given to the public of this transaction by which mr. sheridan became possessed of his theatrical property, they still leave us in the dark with respect to the source from which his own means of completing the purchase were derived. not even to mr. linley, while entering into all other details, does he hint at the fountain head from which this supply is to come:-- _"--gentes maluit ortus mirari, quam nosse tuos."_ there was, indeed, something mysterious and miraculous about all his acquisitions, whether in love, in learning, in wit, or in wealth. how or when his stock of knowledge was laid in, nobody knew--it was as much a matter of marvel to those who never saw him read, as the existence of the chameleon has been to those who fancied it never eat. his advances in the heart of his mistress were, as we have seen, equally trackless and inaudible, and his triumph was the first that even rivals knew of his love. in like manner, the productions of his wit took the world by surprise,--being perfected in secret, till ready for display, and then seeming to break from under the cloud of his indolence in full maturity of splendor. his financial resources had no less an air of magic about them; and the mode by which he conjured up, at this time, the money for his first purchase into the theatre, remains, as far as i can learn, still a mystery. it has been said that mr. garrick supplied him with the means--but a perusal of the above letters must set that notion to rest. there was evidently, at this time, no such confidential understanding between them as an act of friendship of so signal a nature would imply; and it appears that sheridan had the purchase money ready, even before the terms upon which garrick would sell were ascertained. that doctor ford should have advanced the money is not less improbable; for the share of which, contrary to his first intention, he ultimately became proprietor, absorbed, there is every reason to think, the whole of his disposable means. he was afterwards a sufferer by the concern to such an extent, as to be obliged, in consequence of his embarrassments, to absent himself for a considerable time from england; and there are among the papers of mr. sheridan, several letters of remonstrance addressed to him by the son of dr. ford, in which some allusion to such a friendly service, had it ever occurred, would hardly have been omitted. about the end of this year some dissensions arose between the new patentees and mr. lacy, in consequence of the expressed intention of the latter to introduce two other partners into the establishment, by the disposal of his share to captain thomson and a mr. langford. by an account of this transaction, which appears in a periodical paper published at the time, [footnote: the selector] and which, from its correctness in other particulars, i rather think may be depended on, it would seem that sheridan, in his opposition to lacy, had proceeded to the extremity of seceding from his own duties at the theatre, and inducing the principal actors to adopt the same line of conduct. "does not the rage (asks this writer) of the new managers, all directed against the innocent and justifiable conduct of mr. lacy, look as if they meant to rule a theatre, of which they have only a moiety among them, and feared the additional weight and influence which would be given to mr. lacy by the assistance of captain thomson and mr. langford? if their intentions were right, why should they fear to have their power balanced, and their conduct examined? is there a precedent in the annals of the theatre, where the acting manager deserted the general property, left the house, and seduced the actors from their duties--why? forsooth, because he was angry. is not such conduct actionable? in any concern of common property, lord mansfield would make it so. and, what an insult to the public, from whose indulgence and favor this conceited young man, with his wife and family, are to receive their daily bread! because mr. lacy, in his opinion, had used him ill--his patrons and benefactors might go to the devil! mr. lacy acted with great temper and moderation; and, in order that the public might not be wholly disappointed, he brought on old stock-plays--his brother manager having robbed him of the means and instruments to do otherwise, by taking away the performers." it is also intimated in the same publication that mr. garrick had on this occasion "given mr. sheridan credit on his banker for , _l_. for law expenses or for the purchase of messrs. langford and thomson's shares." the dispute, however, was adjusted amicably. mr. lacy was prevailed upon to write an apology to the public, and the design of disposing of his share in the theatre was, for the present, relinquished. there is an allusion to this reconciliation in the following characteristic letter, addressed by sheridan to mr. linley in the spring of the following year. "dear sir, "you write to me though you tell me you have nothing to say--now, i have reversed the case, and have not wrote to you, because i have had so much to say. however, i find i have delayed too long to attempt now to transmit you a long detail of our theatrical manoeuvres; but you must not attribute my not writing to idleness, but on the contrary to my _not_ having been idle. "you represent your situation of mind between _hopes_ and _fears_. i am afraid i should argue in vain (as i have often on this point before) were i to tell you, that it is always better to encourage the former than the latter. it may be very prudent to mix a little _fear_ by way of alloy with a good solid mass of _hope_; but you, on the contrary, always deal in _apprehension_ by the pound, and take _confidence_ by the grain, and spread as thin as leaf gold. in fact, though a metaphor mayn't explain it, the truth is, that, in all undertakings which depend principally on ourselves, the surest way not to fail is to _determine to succeed_. "it would be endless to say more at present about theatrical matters, only, that every thing is going on very well. lacy promised me to write to you, which i suppose, however, he has not done. at our first meeting after you left town, he cleared away all my doubts about his sincerity; and i dare swear we shall never have the least misunderstanding again, nor do i believe he will ever take any distinct counsel in future. relative to your affair he has not the shade of an objection remaining, and is only anxious that you may not take amiss his boggling at first. we have, by and with the advice of the privy council, concluded to have noverre over, and there is a species of pantomime to be shortly put on foot, which is to draw all the human kind to drury. [footnote: i find that the pantomime at drury lane this year was a revival of "harlequin's invasion," and that at covent garden, "harlequin's frolics."] this is become absolutely necessary on account of a marvellous preparation of the kind which is making at covent garden. "touching the tragedies you mention, if you speak of them merely as certain tragedies that may be had, i should think it impossible we could find the least room, as you know garrick saddles us with one which we _must_ bring out. but, if you have any particular desire that one of them should be done, it is another affair, and i should be glad to see them. otherwise, i would much rather you would save the disagreeableness of giving my opinion to a fresh tragic bard, being already in disgrace with about nine of that irascible fraternity. "betsey has been alarmed about tom, but without reason. he is in my opinion better than when you left him, at least to appearance, and the cold he caught is gone. we sent to see him at battersea, and would have persuaded him to remove to orchard street; but he thinks the air does him good, and he seems with people where he is at home, and may divert himself, which, perhaps, will do him more good than the air,--but he is to be with us soon. "ormsby has sent me a silver branch on the score of the duenna. this will cost me, what of all things i am least free of, a letter: and it should have been a poetical one, too, if the present had been any piece of plate but a candlestick!--i believe i must melt it into a bowl to make verses on it, for there is no possibility of bringing candle, candlestick, or snuffers, into metre. however, as the gift was owing to the muse, and the manner of it very friendly, i believe i shall try to jingle a little on the occasion; at least, a few such stanzas as might gain a cup of tea from the urn at bath-easton. "betsey is very well, and on the point of giving tom up to feed like a christian and a gentleman, or, in other words, of weaning, waining, or weening him. as for the young gentleman himself, his progress is so rapid, that one may plainly see the astonishment the sun is in of a morning, at the improvement of the night. our loves to all. "yours ever, and truly, "r. b. sheridan." the first contribution which the dramatic talent of the new manager furnished to the stock of the theatre, was an alteration of vanbrugh's comedy, the relapse, which was brought out on the th of february, , under the title of "a trip to scarborough." in reading the original play, we are struck with surprise, that sheridan should ever have hoped to be able to _defecate_ such dialogue, and yet leave any of the wit, whose whole spirit is in the lees, behind. the very life of such characters as berinthia is their licentiousness, and it is with them, as with objects that are luminous from putrescence,--to remove their taint is to extinguish their light. if sheridan, indeed, had substituted some of his own wit for that which he took away, the inanition that followed the operation would have been much less sensibly felt. but to be so liberal of a treasure so precious, and for the enrichment of the work of another, could hardly have been expected from him. besides, it may be doubted whether the subject had not already yielded its utmost to vanbrugh, and whether even in the hands of sheridan, it could have been brought to bear a second crop of wit. here and there through the dialogue, there are some touches from his pen-- more, however, in the style of his farce than his comedy. for instance, that speech of lord foppington, where, directing the hosier not "to thicken the calves of his stockings so much," he says, "you should always remember, mr. hosier, that if you make a nobleman's spring legs as robust as his autumnal calves, you commit a monstrous impropriety, and make no allowance for the fatigues of the winter." again, the following dialogue:-- "_jeweller._ i hope, my lord, those buckles have had the unspeakable satisfaction of being honored with your lordship's approbation? "_lord f._ why, they are of a pretty fancy; but don't you think them rather of the smallest? "_jeweller._ my lord, they could not well be larger, to keep on your lordship's shoe. "_lord f._ my good sir, you forget that these matters are not as they used to be: formerly, indeed, the buckle was a sort of machine, intended to keep on the shoe; but the case is now quite reversed, and the shoe is of no earthly use but to keep on the buckle." about this time mrs. sheridan went to pass a few weeks with her father and mother at bath, while sheridan himself remained in town, to superintend the concerns of the theatre. during this interval he addressed to her the following verses, which i quote, less from their own peculiar merit, than as a proof how little his heart had yet lost of those first feelings of love and gallantry which too often expire in matrimony, as faith and hope do in heaven, and from the same causes-- "one lost in certainty, and one in joy." to laura. "near avon's ridgy bank there grows a willow of no vulgar size, that tree first heard poor silvio's woes, and heard how bright were laura's eyes. its boughs were shade from heat or show'r, its roots a moss-grown seat became; its leaves would strew the maiden's bow'r, its bark was shatter'd with her name! once on a blossom-crowned day of mirth-inspiring may, silvio, beneath this willow's sober shade, in sullen contemplation laid, did mock the meadow's flowery pride,-- rail'd at the dance and sportive ring;-- the tabor's call he did deride, and said, _it was not spring_. he scorn'd the sky of azure blue, he scorn'd whate'er could mirth bespeak; he chid the beam that drank the dew, and chid the gale that fann'd his glowing cheek. unpaid the season's wanton lay, for still he sigh'd, and said, it _was not may_. "ah, why should the glittering stream reflect thus delusive the scene? ah, why does a rosy-ting'd beam thus vainly enamel the green? to me nor joy nor light they bring: i tell thee, phoebus, _'tis not spring_. "sweet tut'ress of music and love, sweet bird, if 'tis thee that i hear, why left you so early the grove, to lavish your melody here? cease, then, mistaken thus to sing, sweet nightingale! it _is not spring_. "the gale courts my locks but to tease, and, zephyr, i call not on thee: thy fragrance no longer can please, then rob not the blossoms for me: but hence unload thy balmy wing, believe me, zephyr, 'tis _not spring_. "yet the lily has drank of the show'r, and the rose 'gins to peep on the day; and yon bee seems to search for a flow'r, as busy as if it were may:-- in vain, thou senseless flutt'ring thing, my heart informs me, _'tis not spring."_ may pois'd her roseate wings, for she had heard the mourner, as she pass'd the vales along; and, silencing her own indignant bird, she thus reprov'd poor silvio's song. "how false is the sight of a lover; how ready his spleen to discover what reason would never allow! why,--silvio, my sunshine and showers, my blossoms, my birds, and my flow'rs, were never more perfect than now. "the water's reflection is true, the green is enamell'd to view, and philomel sings on the spray; the gale is the breathing of spring, 'tis fragrance it bears on its wing, and the bee is assur'd it is _may_." "pardon (said silvio with a gushing tear), _'tis_ spring, sweet nymph, _but laura is not here_." in sending these verses to mrs. sheridan, he had also written her a description of some splendid party, at which he had lately been present, where all the finest women of the world of fashion were assembled. his praises of their beauty, as well as his account of their flattering attentions to himself, awakened a feeling of at least poetical jealousy in mrs. sheridan, which she expressed in the following answer to his verses--taking occasion, at the same time, to pay some generous compliments to the most brilliant among his new fashionable friends. though her verses are of that kind which we read more with interest than admiration, they have quite enough of talent for the gentle themes to which she aspired; and there is, besides, a charm about them, as coming from mrs. sheridan, to which far better poetry could not pretend. to silvio. "soft flow'd the lay by avon's sedgy side, while o'er its streams the drooping willow hung beneath whose shadow silvio fondly tried to check the opening roses as they sprung. in vain he bade them cease to court the gale, that wanton'd balmy on the zephyr's wing; in vain, when philomel renew'd her tale, he chid her song, and said _'it was not spring.'_ for still they bloom'd, tho' silvio's heart was sad, nor did sweet philomel neglect to sing; the zephyrs scorned them not, tho' silvio had, for love and nature told them it was spring. [footnote: as the poem altogether would be too long, i have here omitted five or six stanzas] * * * * * to other scenes doth silvio now repair, to nobler themes his daring muse aspires; around him throng the gay, the young, the fair, his lively wit the listening crowd admires. and see, where radiant beauty smiling stands, with gentle voice and soft beseeching eyes, to gain the laurel from his willing hands, her every art the fond enchantress tries. what various charms the admiring youth surround, how shall he sing, or how attempt to praise? so lovely all--where shall the bard be found, who can to _one_ alone attune his lays? behold with graceful step and smile serene, majestic stella moves to claim the prize: [footnote: according to the key which has been given me, the name of stella was meant to designate the duchess of rutland] "'tis thine," he cries, "for thou art beauty's queen." mistaken youth! and sees't thou myra's eyes? [footnote: the duchess of devonshire] with beaming lustre see they dart at thee: ah i dread their vengeance--yet withhold thy hand,-- that deepening blush upbraids thy rash decree; hers is the wreath--obey the just demand. "pardon, bright nymph,"(the wond'ring silvio cries) "and oh, receive the wreath thy beauty's due"-- his voice awards what still his hand denies, for beauteous amoret now his eyes pursue. [footnote: mrs. (afterward lady) crewe] with gentle step and hesitating grace, unconscious of her pow'r the fair one came; if, while he view'd the glories of that face, poor silvio doubted,--who shall dare to blame? a rosy blush his ardent gaze reprov'd, the offer'd wreath she modestly declined;-- "if sprightly wit and dimpled smiles are lov'd, my brow," said flavia, "shall that garland bind." [footnote: lady craven, afterwards margravine of anspach.] with wanton gaiety the prize she seized-- silvio in vain her snowy hand repell'd; the fickle youth unwillingly was pleas'd, reluctantly the wreath he yet withheld. but jessie's all-seducing form appears, [footnote: the late countess of jersey.] nor more the playful flavia could delight; lovely in smiles, more lovely still in tears, her every glance shone eloquently bright. those radiant eyes in safety none could view, did not those fringed lids their brightness shade-- mistaken youths! their beams, too late ye knew, are by that soft defence more fatal made. "o god of love!" with transport silvio cries, "assist me thou, this contest to decide; and since to _one_ i cannot yield the prize, permit thy slave the garland to divide. "on myra's breast the opening rose shall blow, reflecting from her cheek a livelier bloom; for stella shall the bright carnation glow-- beneath her eyes' bright radiance meet its doom. "smart pinks and daffodils shall flavia grace, the modest eglantine and violet blue on gentle amoret's placid brow i'll place-- of elegance and love an emblem true." in gardens oft a beauteous flow'r there grows, by vulgar eyes unnoticed and unseen; in sweet security it humbly blows, and rears its purple head to deck the green. this flower, as nature's poet sweetly sings, was once milk-white, and _hearts-ease_ was its name; till wanton cupid pois'd his roseate wings, a vestal's sacred bosom to inflame; with treacherous aim the god his arrow drew, which she with icy coldness did repel; rebounding thence with feathery speed it flew, till on this lonely flow'r at last it fell. heart's-ease no more the wandering shepherds found, no more the nymphs its snowy form possess; its white now chang'd to purple by love's wound, heart's-ease no more, 'tis "love in idleness." "this flow'r with sweet-brier join'd shall thee adorn, sweet jessie, fairest 'mid ten thousand fair! but guard thy gentle bosom from the thorn, which, tho' conceal'd, the sweet-brier still must bear. "and place not love, tho' _idle_, in thy breast, tho' bright its hues, it boasts no other charm-- so may thy future days be ever blest, and friendship's calmer joys thy bosom warm !" but where does laura pass her lonely hours? does she still haunt the grot and willow-tree? shall silvio from his wreath of various flowr's neglect to cull one simple sweet for thee? "ah, laura, no," the constant silvio cries, "for thee a never-fading wreath i'll twine; though bright the rose, its bloom too swiftly flies, no emblem meet for love so true as mine. "for thee, my love, the myrtle, ever-green, shall every year its blossom sweet disclose, which, when our spring of youth no more is seen, shall still appear more lovely than the rose." "forgive, dear youth," the happy laura said, "forgive each doubt, each fondly anxious fear, which from my heart for ever now is fled-- thy love and truth, thus tried, are doubly dear. "with pain i mark'd the various passions rise, when beauty so divine before thee mov'd; with trembling doubt beheld thy wandering eyes, for still i fear'd;--alas! because i lov'd. "each anxious doubt shall laura _now_ forego, no more regret those joys so lately known, conscious, that tho' thy breast to _all_ may glow, thy faithful _heart_ shall beat for _her_ alone. "then, silvio, seize again thy tuneful lyre, nor yet sweet beauty's power forbear to praise; again let charms divine thy strains inspire, and laura's voice shall aid the poet's lays." chapter v. the school for scandal. mr. sheridan was now approaching the summit of his dramatic fame;--he had already produced the best opera in the language, and there now remained for him the glory of writing also the best comedy. as this species of composition seems, more, perhaps, than any other, to require that knowledge of human nature and the world which experience alone can give, it seems not a little extraordinary that nearly all our first-rate comedies should have been the productions of very young men. those of congreve were all written before he was five-and-twenty. farquhar produced the constant couple in his two-and-twentieth year, and died at thirty. vanbrugh was a young ensign when he sketched out the relapse and the provoked wife, and sheridan crowned his reputation with the school for scandal at six-and-twenty. it is, perhaps, still more remarkable to find, as in the instance before us, that works which, at this period of life, we might suppose to have been the rapid offspring of a careless, but vigorous fancy,-- anticipating the results of experience by a sort of second-sight inspiration,--should, on the contrary, have been the slow result of many and doubtful experiments, gradually unfolding beauties unforeseen even by him who produced them, and arriving, at length, step by step, at perfection. that such was the tardy process by which the school for scandal was produced, will appear from the first sketches of its plan and dialogue, which i am here enabled to lay before the reader, and which cannot fail to interest deeply all those who take delight in tracing the alchemy of genius, and in watching the first slow workings of the menstruum, out of which its finest transmutations arise. "genius," says buffon, "is patience;" or, (as another french writer has explained his thought)--"la patience cherche, et le genie trouve;" and there is little doubt that to the co-operation of these two powers all the brightest inventions of this world are owing;--that patience must first explore the depths where the pearl lies hid, before genius boldly dives and brings it up full into light. there are, it is true, some striking exceptions to this rule; and our own times have witnessed more than one extraordinary intellect, whose depth has not prevented their treasures from lying ever ready within reach. but the records of immortality furnish few such instances; and all we know of the works, that she has hitherto marked with her seal, sufficiently authorize the general position,--that nothing great and durable has ever been produced with ease, and that labor is the parent of all the lasting wonders of this world, whether in verse or stone, whether poetry or pyramids. the first sketch of the school for scandal that occurs was written, i am inclined to think, before the rivals, or at least very soon after it;-- and that it was his original intention to satirize some of the gossips of bath appears from the title under which i find noted down, as follows, the very first hints, probably, that suggested themselves for the dialogue. "the slanderers.--_a pump-room scene_. "friendly caution to the newspapers. "it is whispered-- "she is a constant attendant at church, and very frequently takes dr. m'brawn home with her. "mr. worthy is very good to the girl;--for my part, i dare swear he has no ill intention. "what! major wesley's miss montague? "lud, ma'am, the match is certainly broke--no creature knows the cause; some say a flaw in the lady's character, and others, in the gentleman's fortune. "to be sure they do say-- "i hate to repeat what i hear. "she was inclined to be a little too plump before she went. "the most intrepid blush;--i've known her complexion stand fire for an hour together. "'she had twins,'--how ill-natured! as i hope to be saved, ma'am, she had but one; and that a little starved brat not worth mentioning." the following is the opening scene of his first sketch, from which it will be perceived that the original plot was wholly different from what it is at present,--sir peter and lady teazle being at that time not in existence. "lady sneerwell and spatter. "_lady s._ the paragraphs, you say, were all inserted. "_spat._ they were, madam. "_lady s._ did you circulate the report of lady brittle's intrigue with captain boastall? "_spat._ madam, by this lady brittle is the talk of half the town; and in a week will be treated as a demirep. "_lady s._ what have you done as to the innuendo of miss niceley's fondness for her own footman? "_spat._ 'tis in a fair train, ma'am. i told it to my hair- dresser,--he courts a milliner's girl in pall mall, whose mistress has a first cousin who is waiting-woman to lady clackit. i think in about fourteen hours it must reach lady clackit, and then you know the business is done. "_lady s._ but is that sufficient, do you think? "_spat._ o lud, ma'am, i'll undertake to ruin the character of the primmest prude in london with half as much. ha! ha! did your ladyship never hear how poor miss shepherd lost her lover and her character last summer at scarborough? this was the whole of it. one evening at lady ----'s, the conversation happened to turn on the difficulty of breeding nova scotia sheep in england. 'i have known instances,' says miss ---, 'for last spring, a friend of mine, miss shepherd of ramsgate, had a nova scotia sheep that produced her twins.'--'what!' cries the old deaf dowager lady bowlwell, 'has miss shepherd of ramsgate been brought to bed of twins?' this mistake, as you may suppose, set the company laughing. however, the next day, miss verjuice amarilla lonely, who had been of the party, talking of lady bowlwell's deafness, began to tell what had happened; but unluckily, forgetting to say a word of sheep, it was understood by the company, and, in every circle, many believed, that miss shepherd of ramsgate had actually been brought to bed of a fine boy and a girl; and, in less than a fortnight, there were people who could name the father, and the farm-house where the babies were put out to nurse. "_lady s._ ha! ha! well, for a stroke of luck, it was a very good one. i suppose you find no difficulty in spreading the report on the censorious miss ----. "_spat._ none in the world,--she has always been so prudent and reserved, that every body was sure there was some reason for it at bottom. "_lady s._ yes, a tale of scandal is as fatal to the credit of a prude as a fever to those of the strongest constitutions; but there is a sort of sickly reputation that outlives hundreds of the robuster character of a prude. "_spat._ true, ma'am, there are valetudinarians in reputation as in constitutions; and both are cautious from their appreciation and consciousness of their weak side, and avoid the least breath of air. [footnote: this is one of the many instances, where the improving effect of revision may be traced. the passage at present stands thus:--"there are valetudinarians in reputation as well as constitution; who, being conscious of their weak part, avoid the least breath of air, and supply the want of stamina by care and circumspection."] "_lady s._ but, spatter, i have something of greater confidence now to entrust you with. i think i have some claim to your gratitude. "_spat._ have i ever shown myself one moment unconscious of what i owe you? "_lady s._ i do not charge you with it, but this is an affair of importance. you are acquainted with my situation, but not all my weaknesses. i was hurt, in the early part of my life, by the envenom'd tongue of scandal, and ever since, i own, have no joy but in sullying the fame of others. in this i have found you an apt tool: you have often been the instrument of my revenge, but you must now assist me in a softer passion. a young widow with a little beauty and easy fortune is seldom driven to sue,--yet is that my case. of the many you have seen here, have you ever observed me, secretly, to favor one? "_spat._ egad! i never was more posed: i'm sure you cannot mean that ridiculous old knight, sir christopher crab? "_lady s._ a wretch! his assiduities are my torment. "_spat._ perhaps his nephew, the baronet, sir benjamin backbite, is the happy man? "_lady s._ no, though he has ill-nature, and a good person on his side, he is not to my taste. what think you of clerimont? [footnote: afterwards called florival.] "_spat._ how! the professed lover of your ward, maria; between whom, too, there is a mutual affection. "_lady s._ yes, that insensible, that doater on an idiot, is the man. "_spat._ but how can you hope to succeed? "_lady s._ by poisoning both with jealousy of the other, till the credulous fool, in a pique, shall be entangled in my snare. "_spat._ have you taken any measure for it? "_lady s._ i have. maria has made me the confidante of clerimont's love for her: in return, i pretended to entrust her with my affection for sir benjamin, who is her warm admirer. by strong representation of my passion, i prevailed on her not to refuse to see sir benjamin, which she once promised clerimont to do. i entreated her to plead my cause, and even drew her in to answer sir benjamin's letters with the same intent. of this i have made clerimont suspicious; but 'tis you must inflame him to the pitch i want. "_spat._ but will not maria, on the least unkindness of clerimont, instantly come to an explanation? "_lady s._ this is what we must prevent by blinding...." the scene that follows, between lady sneerwell and maria, gives some insight into the use that was to be made of this intricate ground-work, [footnote: the following is his own arrangement of the scenes of the second act. "act ii. scene st. all.-- d. lady s. and mrs. c.-- d. lady s. and ... em. and mrs. c. listening.-- th. l. s. and flor. shows him into the room,--bids him return the other way.--l. s. and emma.--emma and florival;--fits,--maid.--emma fainting and sobbing:--'death, don't expose me!'--enter maid,--will call out--all come on with cards and smelling bottles."] and it was, no doubt, the difficulty of managing such an involvement of his personages dramatically, that drove him, luckily for the world, to the construction of a simpler, and, at the same time, more comprehensive plan. he might also, possibly, have been influenced by the consideration, that the chief movement of this plot must depend upon the jealousy of the lover,--a spring of interest which he had already brought sufficiently into play in the rivals. "_lady sneerwell._ well, my love, have you seen clerimont to-day? "_maria._ i have not, nor does he come as often as he used. indeed, madam, i fear what i have done to serve you has by some means come to his knowledge, and injured me in his opinion. i promised him faithfully never to see sir benjamin. what confidence can he ever have in me, if he once finds i have broken my word to him? "_lady s._ nay, you are too grave. if he should suspect any thing, it will always be in my power to undeceive him. "_mar._ well, you have involved me in deceit, and i must trust to you to extricate me. "_lady s._ have you answered sir benjamin's last letter in the manner i wished? "_mar._ i have written exactly as you desired me: but i wish you would give me leave to tell the whole truth to clerimont at once. there is a coldness in his manner of late, which i can no ways account for. "_lady s._ (_aside_.) i'm glad to find i have worked on him so far;--fie, maria, have you so little regard for me? would you put me to the shame of being known to love a man who disregards me? had you entrusted me with such a secret, not a husband's power should have forced it from me. but, do as you please. go, forget the affection i have shown you: forget that i have been as a mother to you, whom i found an orphan. go, break through all ties of gratitude, and expose me to the world's derision, to avoid one sullen hour from a moody lover. "_mar._ indeed, madam, you wrong me; and you who know the apprehension of love, should make allowance for its weakness. my love for clerimont is so great-- "_lady s._ peace; it cannot exceed mine. "_mar._ for sir benjamin, perhaps not, ma'am--and, i am sure, clerimont has as sincere an affection for me. "_lady s._ would to heaven i could say the same! "_mar._ of sir benjamin:--i wish so too, ma'am. but i am sure you would be extremely hurt, if, in gaining your wishes, you were to injure me in the opinion of clerimont. "_lady s._ undoubtedly; i would not for the world--simple fool! (_aside._) but my wishes, my happiness depend on you--for, i doat so on the insensible, that it kills me to see him so attached to you. give me but clerimont, and-- "_mar._ clerimont! "_lady s._ sir benjamin, you know, i meant. is he not attached to you? am i not slighted for you? yet, do i bear any enmity to you, as my rival? i only request your friendly intercession, and you are so ungrateful, you would deny me that. "_mar._ nay, madam, have i not done everything you wished? for you, i have departed from truth, and contaminated my mind with falsehood-- what could i do more to serve you? "_lady s._ well, forgive me, i was too warm. i know you would not betray me. i expect sir benjamin and his uncle this morning--why, maria, do you always leave our little parties? "_mar._ i own, madam, i have no pleasure in their conversation. i have myself no gratification in uttering detraction, and therefore none in hearing it. "_lady s._ oh fie, you are serious--'tis only a little harmless raillery. "_mar._ i never can think that harmless which hurts the peace of youth, draws tears from beauty, and gives many a pang to the innocent. "_lady s._ nay, you must allow that many people of sense and wit have this foible--sir benjamin backbite, for instance. "_mar._ he may, but i confess i never can perceive wit where i see malice. "_lady s._ fie, maria, you have the most unpolished way of thinking! it is absolutely impossible to be witty without being a little ill-natured. the malice of a good thing is the barb that makes it stick. i protest now when i say an ill-natured thing, i have not the least malice against the person; and, indeed, it may be of one whom i never saw in my life; for i hate to abuse a friend--but i take it for granted, they all speak as ill-naturedly of me. "_mar._ then you are, very probably, conscious you deserve it--for my part, i shall only suppose myself ill-spoken of, when i am conscious i deserve it." "_enter servant._ "_ser._ mrs. candor. "_mar._ well, i'll leave you. "_lady s._ no, no, you have no reason to avoid her, she is good nature itself. "_mar._ yes, with an artful affectation of candor, she does more injury than the worst backbiter of them all." "_enter_ mrs. candor. "_mrs. cand._ so, lady sneerwell, how d'ye do? maria, child, how dost? well, who is't you are to marry at last? sir benjamin or clerimont? the town talks of nothing else." through the remainder of this scene the only difference in the speeches of mrs. candor is, that they abound more than at present in ludicrous names and anecdotes, and occasionally straggle into that loose wordiness, which, knowing how much it weakens the sap of wit, the good taste of sheridan was always sure to lop away. the same may be said of the greater part of that scene of scandal which at present occurs in the second act, and in which all that is now spoken by lady teazle, was originally put into the mouths of sir christopher crab and others--the caustic remarks of sir peter teazle being, as well as himself, an after creation. it is chiefly, however, in clerimont, the embryo of charles surface, that we perceive how imperfect may be the first lineaments, that time and taste contrive to mould gradually into beauty. the following is the scene that introduces him to the audience, and no one ought to be disheartened by the failure of a first attempt after reading it. the spiritless language--the awkward introduction of the sister into the plot--the antiquated expedient [footnote: this objection seems to have occurred to himself; for one of his memorandums is--"not to drop the letter, but take it from the maid.] of dropping the letter--all, in short, is of the most undramatic and most unpromising description, and as little like what it afterwards turned to as the block is to the statue, or the grub to the butterfly. "_sir c._ this clerimont is, to be sure, the drollest mortal! he is one of your moral fellows, who does unto others as he would they should do unto him. "_lady sneer._ yet he is sometimes entertaining. "_sir c._ oh hang him, no--he has too much good nature to say a witty thing himself, and is too ill-natured to praise wit in others. "_enter_ clerimont. "_sir b._ so, clerimont--we were just wishing for you to enliven us with your wit and agreeable vein. "_cler._ no, sir benjamin, i cannot join you. "_sir b._ why, man, you look as grave as a young lover the first time he is jilted. "_cler._ i have some cause to be grave, sir benjamin. a word with you all. i have just received a letter from the country, in which i understand that my sister has suddenly left my uncle's house, and has not since been heard of. "_lady s._ indeed! and on what provocation? "_cler._ it seems they were urging her a little too hastily to marry some country squire that was not to her taste. "_sir b._ positively i love her for her spirit. "_lady s._ and so do i, and would protect her, if i knew where she was. "_cler._ sir benjamin, a word with you--(_takes him apart_.) i think, sir, we have lived for some years on what the world calls the footing of friends. "_sir b._ to my great honor, sir.--well, my dear friend? "_cler._ you know that you once paid your addresses to my sister. my uncle disliked you; but i have reason to think you were not indifferent to her. "_sir b._ i believe you are pretty right there; but what follows? "_cler._ then i think i have a right to expect an implicit answer from you, whether you are in any respect privy to her elopement? "_sir b._ why, you certainly have a right to ask the question, and i will answer you as sincerely--which is, that though i make no doubt but that she would have gone with me to the world's end, i am at present entirely ignorant of the whole affair. this i declare to you upon my honor--and, what is more, i assure you my devotions are at present paid to another lady--one of your acquaintance, too. "_cler._ (_aside_.) now, who can this other be whom he alludes to?--i have sometimes thought i perceived a kind of mystery between him and maria--but i rely on her promise, though, of late, her conduct to me has been strangely reserved. "_lady s._ why, clerimont, you seem quite thoughtful. come with us; we are going to kill an hour at ombre--your mistress will join us. "_cler._ madam, i attend you. "_lady s. (taking sir b. aside.)_ sir benjamin, i see maria is now coming to join us--do you detain her awhile, and i will contrive that clerimont should see you, and then drop this letter. "[exeunt all but sir. b.] "_enter_ maria. "_mar._ i thought the company were here, and clerimont-- "_sir b._ one, more your slave than clerimont, is here. "_mar._ dear sir benjamin, i thought you promised me to drop this subject. if i have really any power over you, you will oblige me-- "_sir b._ power over me! what is there you could not command me in? have you not wrought on me to proffer my love to lady sneerwell? yet though you gain this from me, you will not give me the smallest token of gratitude. "enter clerimont behind. "_mar._ how can i believe your love sincere, when you continue still to importune me? "_sir b._ i ask but for your friendship, your esteem. "_mar._ that you shall ever be entitled to--then i may depend upon your honor? "_sir b._ eternally--dispose of my heart as you please. "_mar._ depend upon it, i shall study nothing but its happiness. i need not repeat my caution as to clerimont? "_sir b._ no, no, he suspects nothing as yet. "_mar._ for, within these few days, i almost believed that he suspects me. "_sir b._ never fear, he does not love well enough to be quick sighted; for just now he taxed me with eloping with his sister. "_mar._ well, we had now best join the company. "[_exeunt._] "_cler._ so, now--who can ever have faith in woman! d--d deceitful wanton! why did she not fairly tell me that she was weary of my addresses? that, woman-like, her mind was changed, and another fool succeeded. "_enter_ lady sneerwell. "_lady s._ clerimont, why do you leave us? think of my losing this hand. (_cler._ she has no heart)--five mate--(_cler._ deceitful wanton!) spadille. "_cler._ oh yes, ma'am--'twas very hard. "_lady s._ but you seem disturbed; and where are maria and sir benjamin? i vow i shall be jealous of sir benjamin. "_cler._ i dare swear they are together very happy,--but, lady sneerwell--you may perhaps often have perceived that i am discontented with maria. i ask you to tell me sincerely--have you ever perceived it? "_lady s._ i wish you would excuse me. "_cler._ nay, you have perceived it--i know you hate deceit." * * * * * i have said that the other sketch, in which sir peter and lady teazle are made the leading personages, was written subsequently to that of which i have just given specimens. of this, however, i cannot produce any positive proof. there is no date on the manuscripts, nor any other certain clue, to assist in deciding the precedency of time between them. in addition to this, the two plans are entirely distinct,--lady sneerwell and her associates being as wholly excluded from the one, as sir peter and lady teazle are from the other; so that it is difficult to say, with certainty, which existed first, or at what time the happy thought occurred of blending all that was best in each into one. the following are the dramatis personae of the second plan:-- sir rowland harpur. ---- plausible. capt. harry plausible. freeman. old teazle. [footnote: the first intention was, as appears from his introductory speech, to give old teazle the christian name of solomon. sheridan was, indeed, most fastidiously changeful in his names. the present charles surface was at first clerimont, then florival, then captain harry plausible, then harry pliant or pliable, then young harrier, and then frank--while his elder brother was successively plausible, pliable, young pliant, tom, and, lastly, joseph surface. trip was originally called spunge; the name of snake was in the earlier sketch spatter, and, even after the union of the two plots into one, all the business of the opening scene with lady sneerwell, at present transacted by snake, was given to a character, afterwards wholly omitted, miss verjuice.] (_left off trade_.) mrs. teazle. maria. from this list of the personages we may conclude that the quarrels of old teazle and his wife, the attachment between maria and one of the plausibles, and the intrigue of mrs. teazle with the other, formed the sole materials of the piece, as then constructed. [footnote: this was most probably the "two act comedy," which he announced to mr. linley as preparing for representation in .] there is reason too to believe, from the following memorandum, which occurs in various shapes through these manuscripts, that the device of the screen was not yet thought of, and that the discovery was to be effected in a very different manner-- "making love to aunt and niece--meeting wrong in the dark--some one coming--locks up the aunt, thinking it to be the niece." i shall now give a scene or two from the second sketch--which shows, perhaps, even more strikingly than the other, the volatilizing and condensing process which his wit must have gone through, before it attained its present proof and flavor. "act i.--scene i "old teazle _alone._ "in the year i married my first wife; the wedding was at the end of the year--aye, 'twas in december; yet, before ann. dom. , i repented. a month before we swore we preferred each other to the whole world-- perhaps we spoke truth; but, when we came to promise to love each other till death, there i am sure we lied. well, fortune owed me a good turn; in she died. ah, silly solomon, in i find thee married again! here, too, is a catalogue of ills--thomas, born february ; jane born jan. ; so they go on to the number of five. however, by death i stand credited but by one. well, margery, rest her soul! was a queer creature; when she was gone, i felt awkward at first, and being sensible that wishes availed nothing, i often wished for her return. for ten years more i kept my senses and lived single. oh, blockhead, dolt solomon! within this twelvemonth thou art married again--married to a woman thirty years younger than thyself; a fashionable woman. yet i took her with caution; she had been educated in the country; but now she has more extravagance than the daughter of an earl, more levity than a countess. what a defect it is in our laws, that a man who has once been branded in the forehead should be hanged for the second offence. "_enter_ jarvis. "_teaz._ who's there? well, jarvis? "_jarv._ sir, there are a number of my mistress's tradesmen without, clamorous for their money. "_teaz._ are those their bills in your hand? "_jarv._ something about a twentieth part, sir. "_teaz._ what! have you expended the hundred pounds i gave you for her use? "_jarv._ long ago, sir, as you may judge by some of the items:-- 'paid the coach-maker for lowering the front seat of the coach.' "_teaz._ what the deuce was the matter with the seat? "_jarv._ oh lord, the carriage was too low for her by a foot when she was dressed--so that it must have been so, or have had a tub at top like a hat-case on a travelling trunk. well, sir, (_reads._) 'paid her two footmen half a year's wages, _l_.' "_teaz._ 'sdeath and fury! does she give her footmen a hundred a year? "_jarv._ yes, sir, and i think, indeed, she has rather made a good bargain, for they find their own bags and bouquets. "_teaz._ bags and bouquets for footmen!--halters and bastinadoes! [footnote: transferred afterwards to trip and sir oliver.] "_jarv._ 'paid for my lady's own nosegays, _l_.' "_teaz._ fifty pounds for flowers! enough to turn the pantheon into a green-house, and give a fete champetre at christmas. [footnote: we observe here a change in his plan, with respect both to the titles of old teazle and his wife, and the presence of the latter during this scene, which was evidently not at first intended. from the following skeleton of the scenes of this piece it would appear that (inconsistently, in some degree, with my notion of its being the two act comedy announced in ) he had an idea of extending the plot through five acts. "act st, scene st, sir peter and steward-- d, sir p. and lady--then young pliable. "act d, sir p. and lady--young harrier--sir p. and sir rowland, and old jeremy--sir r. and daughter--y. p. and y. h. "act d, sir r., sir p. and o. j.-- d, y. p. and company, y. r. o. r.-- d, y. h. and maria--y. h., o. r. and young harrier, to borrow. "act th, y. p. and maria, to borrow his money; gets away what he had received from his uncle--y. p. old jer. and tradesmen.--p. and lady t." &c. &c.] "_lady teaz._ lord, sir peter, i wonder you should grudge me the most innocent articles in dress--and then for the expense--flowers cannot be cheaper in winter--you should find fault with the climate, and not with me. i am sure i wish with all my heart, that it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under one's feet. "_sir p._ nay, but, madam, then you would not wear them; but try snowballs and icicles. but tell me, madam, how can you feel any satisfaction in wearing these, when you might reflect that one of the rose-buds would have furnished a poor family with a dinner? "_lady t._ upon my word, sir peter, begging your pardon, that is a very absurd way of arguing. by that rule, why do you indulge in the least superfluity? i dare swear a beggar might dine tolerably on your great-coat, or sup off your laced waistcoat--nay, i dare say, he wouldn't eat your gold-headed cane in a week. indeed, if you would reserve nothing but necessaries, you should give the first poor man you meet your wig, and walk the streets in your night-cap, which, you know, becomes you very much. "_sir p._ well, go on to the articles. "_jarv._ (_reading._) 'fruit for my lady's monkey, _l._ per week.' "_sir p._ five pounds for a monkey!--why 'tis a dessert for an alderman! "_lady t._ why, sir peter, would you starve the poor animal? i dare swear he lives as reasonably as other monkeys do. "_sir p._ well, well, go on. "_jarv._ 'china for ditto'-- "_sir p._ what, does he eat out of china? "_lady t._ repairing china that he breaks--and i am sure no monkey breaks less. "_jarv._ paid mr. warren for perfumes--milk of roses, _l_.' "_lady t._ very reasonable. "_sir p._ 'sdeath, madam, if you had been born to these expenses i should not have been so much amazed; but i took you, madam, an honest country squire's daughter-- "_lady t._ oh, filthy; don't name it. well, heaven forgive my mother, but i do believe my father must have been a man of quality. "_sir p._ yes, madam, when first i saw you, you were dressed in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys by your side; your occupations, madam, to superintend the poultry; your accomplishments, a complete knowledge of the family receipt-book--then you sat in a room hung round with fruit in worsted of your own working; your amusements were to play country-dances on an old spinnet to your father while he went asleep after a fox-chase--to read tillotson's sermons to your aunt deborah. these, madam, were your recreations, and these the accomplishments that captivated me. now, forsooth, you must have two footmen to your chair, and a pair of white dogs in a phaeton; you forget when you used to ride double behind the butler on a docked bay coach- horse.... now you must have a french hair-dresser; do you think you did not look as well when you had your hair combed smooth over a roller?.... then you could be content to sit with me, or walk by the side of the-- ha! ha! "_lady t._ true, i did; and, when you asked me if i could love an old fellow, who would deny me nothing, i simpered and said 'till death.' "_sir p._ why did you say so? "_lady t._ shall i tell you the truth? "_sir p._ if it is not too great a favor. "_lady t._ why, then, the truth is, i was heartily tired of all these agreeable recreations you have so well remembered, and having a spirit to spend and enjoy fortune, i was determined to marry the first fool i should meet with.... you made me a wife, for which i am much obliged to you, and if you have a wish to make me more grateful still, make me a widow." [footnote: the speeches which i have omitted consist merely of repetitions of the same thoughts, with but very little variation of the language.] * * * * * "_sir p._ then, you never had a desire to please me, or add to my happiness? "_lady t._ sincerely, i never thought about you; did you imagine that age was catching? i think you have been overpaid for all you could bestow on me. here am i surrounded by half a hundred lovers, not one of whom but would buy a single smile by a thousand such baubles as you grudge me. "_sir p._ then you wish me dead? "_lady t._ you know i do not, for you have made no settlement on me. * * * * * "_sir p._ i am but middle-aged. "_lady t._ there's the misfortune; put yourself on, or back, twenty years, and either way i should like you the better. * * * * * yes, sir, and then your behavior too was different; you would dress, and smile, and bow; fly to fetch me anything i wanted; praise every thing i did or said; fatigue your stiff face with an eternal grin; nay, you even committed poetry, and muffled your harsh tones into a lover's whisper to sing it yourself, so that even my mother said you were the smartest old bachelor she ever saw--a billet-doux engrossed on buckram!!!!!! [footnote: these notes of admiration are in the original, and seem meant to express the surprise of the author at the extravagance of his own joke.] * * * * * let girls take my advice and never marry an old bachelor. he must be so either because he could find nothing to love in women, or because women could find nothing to love in him." the greater part of this dialogue is evidently _experimental_, and the play of repartee protracted with no other view, than to take the chance of a trump of wit or humor turning up. in comparing the two characters in this sketch with what they are at present, it is impossible not to be struck by the signal change that they have undergone. the transformation of sir peter into a gentleman has refined, without weakening, the ridicule of his situation; and there is an interest created by the respectability, and amiableness of his sentiments, which, contrary to the effect produced in general by elderly gentlemen so circumstanced, makes us rejoice, at the end, that he has his young wife all to himself. the improvement in the character of lady teazle is still more marked and successful. instead of an ill-bred young shrew, whose readiness to do wrong leaves the mind in but little uncertainty as to her fate, we have a lively and innocent, though imprudent country girl, transplanted into the midst of all that can bewilder and endanger her, but with still enough of the purity of rural life about her heart, to keep the blight of the world from settling upon it permanently. there is indeed in the original draught a degree of glare and coarseness, which proves the eye of the artist to have been fresh from the study of wycherly and vanbrugh; and this want of delicacy is particularly observable in the subsequent scene between lady teazle and surface--the chastening down of which to its present tone is not the least of those triumphs of taste and skill, which every step in the elaboration of this comedy exhibits. "_scene_ [footnote: the third of the fourth act in the present form of the comedy. this scene underwent many changes afterwards, and was oftener put back into the crucible than any other part of the play] young pliant's _room_. "_young p._ i wonder her ladyship is not here: she promised me to call this morning. i have a hard game to play here, to pursue my designs on maria. i have brought myself into a scrape with the mother-in-law. however, i think we have taken care to ruin my brother's character with my uncle, should he come to-morrow. frank has not an ill quality in his nature; yet, a neglect of forms, and of the opinion of the world, has hurt him in the estimation of all his graver friends. i have profited by his errors, and contrived to gain a character, which now serves me as a mask to lie under. "_enter_ lady teazle. "_lady t._ what, musing, or thinking of me? "_young p._ i was thinking unkindly of you; do you know now that you must repay me for this delay, or i must be coaxed into good humor? "_lady t._ nay, in faith you should pity me--this old curmudgeon of late is growing so jealous, that i dare scarce go out, till i know he is secure for some time. "_young p._ i am afraid the insinuations we have had spread about frank have operated too strongly on him--we meant only to direct his suspicions to a wrong object. "_lady t._ oh, hang him! i have told him plainly that if he continues to be so suspicious, i'll leave him entirely, and make him allow me a separate maintenance. "_young p._ but, my charmer, if ever that should be the case, you see before you the man who will ever be attached to you. but you must not let matters come to extremities; you can never be revenged so well by leaving him, as by living with him, and let my sincere affection make amends for his brutality. "_lady t._ but how shall i be sure now that you are sincere? i have sometimes suspected that you loved my niece. [footnote: he had not yet decided whether to make maria the daughter-in-law or niece of lady teazle.] "_young p._ oh, hang her, a puling idiot, without sense or spirit. "_lady t._ but what proofs have i of your love to me, for i have still so much of my country prejudices left, that if i were to do a foolish thing (and i think i can't promise) it shall be for a man who would risk every thing for me alone. how shall i be sure you love me? "_young p._ i have dreamed of you every night this week past. "_lady t._ that's a sign you have slept every night for this week past; for my part, i would not give a pin for a lover who could not wake for a month in absence. "_young p._ i have written verses on you out of number. "_lady t._ i never saw any. "_young p._ no--they did not please me, and so i tore them. "_lady t._ then it seems you wrote them only to divert yourself. "_young p._ am i doomed for ever to suspense? "_lady t._ i don't know--if i was convinced-- "_young p._ then let me on my knees-- "_lady t._ nay, nay, i will have no raptures either. this much i can tell you, that if i am to be seduced to do wrong, i am not to be taken by storm, but by deliberate capitulation, and that only where my reason or my heart is convinced. "_young p._ then, to say it at once--the world gives itself liberties-- "_lady t._ nay, i am sure without cause; for i am as yet unconscious of any ill, though i know not what i may be forced to. "_young p._ the fact is, my dear lady teazle, that your extreme innocence is the very cause of your danger; it is the integrity of your heart that makes you run into a thousand imprudences which a full consciousness of error would make you guard against. now, in that case, you can't conceive how much more circumspect you would be. "_lady t._ do you think so? "_young p._ most certainly. your character is like a person in a plethora, absolutely dying of too much health. "_lady t._ so then you would have me sin in my own defence, and part with my virtue to preserve my reputation. [footnote: this sentence seems to have haunted him--i find it written in every direction, and without any material change in its form, over the pages of his different memorandum books.] "_young p. exactly so, upon my credit, ma'am." * * * * * it will be observed, from all i have cited, that much of the original material is still preserved throughout; but that, like the ivory melting in the hands of pygmalion, it has lost all its first rigidity and roughness, and, assuming at every touch some variety of aspect, seems to have gained new grace by every change. "_mollescit ebur, positoque rigore subsidit digitis, ceditque ut hymettia sole cera remollescit, tractataque pollice multas flectitur in facies, ipsoque fit utilis usu._" where'er his fingers move his eye can trace the once rude ivory softening into grace-- pliant as wax that, on hymettus' hill, melts in the sunbeam, it obeys his skill; at every touch some different aspect shows, and still, the oftener touch'd the lovelier grows. i need not, i think, apologize for the length of the extracts i have given, as they cannot be otherwise than interesting to all lovers of literary history. to trace even the mechanism of an author's style through the erasures and alterations of his rough copy, is, in itself, no ordinary gratification of curiosity; and the _brouillon_ of rousseau's heloise, in the library of the chamber of deputies at paris, affords a study in which more than the mere "auceps syllabarum" might delight. but it is still more interesting to follow thus the course of a writer's thoughts--to watch the kindling of new fancies as he goes--to accompany him in his change of plans, and see the various vistas that open upon him at every step. it is, indeed, like being admitted by some magical power, to witness the mysterious processes of the natural world --to see the crystal forming by degrees round its primitive nucleus, or observe the slow ripening of "the imperfect ore, and know it will be gold another day!" in respect of mere style, too, the workmanship of so pure a writer of english as sheridan is well worth the attention of all who would learn the difficult art of combining ease with polish, and being, at the same time, idiomatic and elegant. there is not a page of these manuscripts that does not bear testimony to the fastidious care with which he selected, arranged, and moulded his language, so as to form it into that transparent channel of his thoughts, which it is at present. his chief objects in correcting were to condense and simplify--to get rid of all unnecessary phrases and epithets, and, in short, to strip away from the thyrsus of his wit every leaf that could render it less light and portable. one instance out of many will show the improving effect of these operations. [footnote: in one or two sentences he has left a degree of stiffness in the style, not so much from inadvertence as from the sacrifice of ease to point. thus, in the following example, he has been tempted by an antithesis into an inversion of phrase by no means idiomatic. "the plain state of the matter is this--i am an extravagant young fellow _who want money to borrow_; you, i take to be a prudent old fellow who have got money to lend." in the collection of his works this phrase is given differently--but without authority from any of the manuscript copies.] the following is the original form of a speech of sir peter's:-- "people who utter a tale of scandal, knowing it to be forged, deserve the pillory more than for a forged bank-note. they can't pass the lie without putting their names on the back of it. you say no person has a right to come on you because you didn't invent it; but you should know that, if the drawer of the lie is out of the way, the injured party has a right to come on any of the indorsers." when this is compared with the form in which the same thought is put at present, it will be perceived how much the wit has gained in lightness and effect by the change:-- "_mrs. candor._ but sure you would not be quite so severe on those who only report what they hear? "_sir p._ yes, madam, i would have law-merchant for them too, and in all cases of slander currency, [footnote: there is another simile among his memorandums of the same mercantile kind:--"a sort of broker in scandal, who transfers lies without fees."] whenever the drawer of the lie was not to be found, the injured party should have a right to come on any of the indorsers." another great source of the felicities of his style, and to which he attended most anxiously in revision, was the choice of epithets; in which he has the happy art of making these accessary words not only minister to the clearness of his meaning, but bring out new effects in his wit by the collateral lights which they strike upon it--and even where the principal idea has but little significance, he contrives to enliven it into point by the quaintness or contrast of his epithets. among the many rejected scraps of dialogue that lie about, like the chippings of a phidias, in this workshop of wit, there are some precious enough to be preserved, at least, as relics. for instance,--"she is one of those, who convey a libel in a frown, and wink a reputation down." the following touch of costume, too, in sir peter's description of the rustic dress of lady teazle before he married her:--"you forget when a little wire and gauze, with a few beads, made you a fly-cap not much bigger than a blue-bottle." the specimen which sir benjamin backbite gives of his poetical talents was taken, it will be seen, from the following verses, which i find in mr. sheridan's hand-writing--one of those trifles, perhaps, with which he and his friend tickell were in the constant habit of amusing themselves, and written apparently with the intention of ridiculing some woman of fashion:-- "then behind, all my hair is done up in a plat, and so, like a cornet's, tuck'd under my hat. then i mount on my palfrey as gay as a lark, and, follow'd by john, take the dust in high park. [footnote: this phrase is made use of in the dialogue:--"as lady betty curricle was taking the dust in hyde park."] in the way i am met by some smart macaroni, who rides by my side on a little bay poney-- no sturdy hibernian, with shoulders so wide, but as taper and slim as the ponies they ride; their legs are as slim, and their shoulders no wider, dear sweet little creatures, both poney and rider! but sometimes, when hotter, i order my chaise, and manage, myself, my two little grays. sure never were seen two such sweet little ponies, other horses are clowns, and these macaronies, and to give them this title, i'm sure isn't wrong, their legs are so slim, and their tails are so long. in kensington gardens to stroll up and down, you know was the fashion before you left town,-- the thing's well enough, when allowance is made for the size of the trees and the depth of the shade, but the spread of their leaves such a shelter affords to those noisy, impertinent creatures called birds, whose ridiculous chirruping ruins the scene, brings the country before me, and gives me the spleen. yet, tho' 'tis too rural--to come near the mark, we all herd in _one_ walk, and that, nearest the park, there with ease we may see, as we pass by the wicket, the chimneys of knightsbridge and--footmen at cricket. i must tho', in justice, declare that the grass, which, worn by our feet, is diminished apace, in a little time more will be brown and as flat as the sand at vauxhall or as ranelagh mat. improving thus fast, perhaps, by degrees, we may see rolls and butter spread under the trees, with a small pretty band in each seat of the walk, to play little tunes and enliven our talk." though mr. sheridan appears to have made more easy progress, after he had incorporated his two first plots into one, yet, even in the details of the new plan, considerable alterations were subsequently made--whole scenes suppressed or transposed, and the dialogue of some entirely re- written. in the third act, for instance, as it originally stood, there was a long scene, in which rowley, by a minute examination of snake, drew from him, in the presence of sir oliver and sir peter, a full confession of his designs against the reputation of lady teazle. nothing could be more ill-placed and heavy; it was accordingly cancelled, and the confession of snake postponed to its natural situation, the conclusion. the scene, too, where sir oliver, as old stanley, comes to ask pecuniary aid of joseph, was at first wholly different from what it is at present; and in some parts approached much nearer to the confines of caricature than the watchful taste of mr. sheridan would permit. for example, joseph is represented in it as giving the old suitor only half- a-guinea, which the latter indignantly returns, and leaves him; upon which joseph, looking at the half-guinea, exclaims, "well, let him starve--this will do for the opera." it was the fate of mr. sheridan, through life,--and, in a great degree, perhaps, his policy,--to gain credit for excessive indolence and carelessness, while few persons, with so much natural brilliancy of talents, ever employed more art and circumspection in their display. this was the case, remarkably, in the instance before us. notwithstanding the labor which he bestowed upon this comedy, (or we should rather, perhaps, say in consequence of that labor,) the first representation of the piece was announced before the whole of the copy was in the hands of the actors. the manuscript, indeed, of the five last scenes bears evident marks of this haste in finishing,--there being but one rough draught of them scribbled upon detached pieces of paper; while, of all the preceding acts, there are numerous transcripts, scattered promiscuously through six or seven books, with new interlineations and memorandums to each. on the last leaf of all, which exists just as we may suppose it to have been despatched by him to the copyist, there is the following curious specimen of doxology, written hastily, in the hand-writing of the respective parties, at the bottom:-- "finished at last. thank god! "r. b. sheridan. "amen! "w. hopkins." [footnote: the prompter,] the cast of the play, on the first night of representation (may , ), was as follows:-- sir peter teazle _mr. king._ sir oliver surface _mr. yates._ joseph surface _mr. palmer._ charles _mr. smith._ crabtree _mr. parsons._ sir benjamin backbite _mr. dodd._ rowley _mr. aickin._ moses _mr. baddeley._ trip _mr. lamash._ snake _mr. packer._ careless _mr. farren._ sir harry bumper _mr. gawdry._ lady teazle _mrs. abington._ maria _miss p. hopkins_ lady sneerwell _miss sherry._ mrs. candor _miss pope._ the success of such a play, so acted, could not be doubtful. long after its first uninterrupted run, it continued to be played regularly two or three times a week; and a comparison of the receipts of the first twelve nights, with those of a later period, will show how little the attraction of the piece had abated by repetition:-- may th, . l s. d. school for scandal ditto ditto a. b. (author's night) (expenses) ditto ditto ditto a. b. committee school for scandal ditto ditto a. b ditto k. (the king) ditto ditto the following extracts are taken at hazard from an account of the weekly receipts of the theatre, for the year , kept with exemplary neatness and care by mrs. sheridan herself: [footnote: it appears from a letter of holcroft to mrs. sheridan, (given in his memoirs, vol. i. p. ,) that she was also in the habit of reading for sheridan the new pieces sent in by dramatic candidates:--"mrs. crewe (he says) has spoken to mr. sheridan concerning it (the shepherdess of the alps), as he informed me last night, desiring me at the same time to send it to you, who, he said, would not only read it yourself, but remind him of it."] . l s. d. january d. twelfth night queen mab th. macbeth queen mab th. tempest queen mab th. school for scandal comus th. school for fathers queen mab th. school for scandal padlock march th. school for scandal deserter th. venice preserved belphegor (new) th. hamlet belphegor th. school for scandal belphegor such, indeed, was the predominant attraction of this comedy during the two years subsequent to its first appearance, that, in the official account of receipts for , we find the following remark subjoined by the treasurer:--"school for scandal damped the new pieces." i have traced it by the same unequivocal marks of success through the years and , and find the nights of its representation always rivalling those on which the king went to the theatre, in the magnitude of their receipts. the following note from garrick [footnote: murphy tells us that mr. garrick attended the rehearsals, and "was never known on any former occasion to be more anxious for a favorite piece. he was proud of the new manager; and in a triumphant manner boasted of the genius to whom he had consigned the conduct of the theatre."--_life of garrick_.] to the author, dated may (four days after the first appearance of the comedy), will be read with interest by all those for whom the great names of the drama have any charm:-- "mr. garrick's best wishes and compliments to mr. sheridan. "how is the saint to-day? a gentleman who is as mad as myself about ye school remark'd, that the characters upon the stage at ye falling of the screen stand too long before they speak;--i thought so too ye first night:--he said it was the same on ye nd, and was remark'd by others;-- tho' they should be astonish'd, and a little petrify'd, yet it may be carry'd to too great a length.--all praise at lord lucan's last night." the beauties of this comedy are so universally known and felt, that criticism may be spared the trouble of dwelling upon them very minutely. with but little interest in the plot, with no very profound or ingenious development of character, and with a group of personages, not one of whom has any legitimate claims upon either our affection or esteem, it yet, by the admirable skill with which its materials are managed,--the happy contrivance of the situations, at once both natural and striking, --the fine feeling of the ridiculous that smiles throughout, and that perpetual play of wit which never tires, but seems, like running water, to be kept fresh by its own flow,--by all this general animation and effect, combined with a finish of the details almost faultless, it unites the suffrages, at once, of the refined and the simple, and is not less successful in ministering to the natural enjoyment of the latter, than in satisfying and delighting the most fastidious tastes among the former. and this is the true triumph of genius in all the arts,--whether in painting, sculpture, music, or literature, those works which have pleased the greatest number of people of all classes, for the longest space of time, may without hesitation be pronounced the best; and, however mediocrity may enshrine itself in the admiration of the select few, the palm of excellence can only be awarded by the many. the defects of the school for scandal, if they can be allowed to amount to defects, are, in a great measure, traceable to that amalgamation of two distinct plots, out of which, as i have already shown, the piece was formed. from this cause,--like an accumulation of wealth from the union of two rich families,--has devolved that excessive opulence of wit, with which, as some critics think, the dialogue is overloaded; and which mr. sheridan himself used often to mention, as a fault of which he was conscious in his work. that he had no such scruple, however, in writing it, appears evident from the pains which he took to string upon his new plot every bright thought and fancy which he had brought together for the two others; and it is not a little curious, in turning over his manuscript, to see how the outstanding jokes are kept in recollection upon the margin, till he can find some opportunity of funding them to advantage in the text. the consequence of all this is, that the dialogue, from beginning to end, is a continued sparkling of polish and point: and the whole of the dramatis personae might be comprised under one common designation of wits. even trip, the servant, is as pointed and shining as the rest, and has his master's wit, as he has his birth- day clothes, "with the gloss on." [footnote: this is one of the phrases that seem to have perplexed the taste of sheridan,--and upon so minute a point, as, whether it should be "with the gloss on," or, "with the gloss on them." after various trials of it in both ways, he decided, as might be expected from his love of idiom, for the former.] the only personage among them that shows any "temperance in jesting," is old rowley; and he, too, in the original, had his share in the general largess of _bon-mots_,--one of the liveliest in the piece [footnote: the answer to the remark, that "charity begins at home,"--"and his, i presume, is of that domestic sort which never stirs abroad at all."] being at first given to him, though afterwards transferred, with somewhat more fitness, to sir oliver. in short, the entire comedy is a sort of el-dorado of wit, where the precious metal is thrown about by all classes, as carelessly as if they had not the least idea of its value. another blemish that hypercriticism has noticed, and which may likewise be traced to the original conformation of the play, is the uselessness of some of the characters to the action or business of it--almost the whole of the "scandalous college" being but, as it were, excrescences, through which none of the life-blood of the plot circulates. the cause of this is evident:--sir benjamin backbite, in the first plot to which he belonged, was a principal personage; but, being transplanted from thence into one with which he has no connection, not only he, but his uncle crabtree, and mrs. candor, though contributing abundantly to the animation of the dialogue, have hardly anything to do with the advancement of the story; and, like the accessories in a greek drama, are but as a sort of chorus of scandal throughout. that this defect, or rather peculiarity, should have been observed at first, when criticism was freshly on the watch for food, is easily conceivable; and i have been told by a friend, who was in the pit on the first night of performance, that a person, who sat near him, said impatiently, during the famous scene at lady sneerwell's, in the second act,--"i wish these people would have done talking, and let the play begin." it has often been remarked as singular, that the lovers, charles and maria, should never be brought in presence of each other till the last scene; and mr. sheridan used to say, that he was aware, in writing the comedy, of the apparent want of dramatic management which such an omission would betray; but that neither of the actors, for whom he had destined those characters, was such as he could safely trust with a love scene. there might, perhaps, too, have been, in addition to this motive, a little consciousness, on his own part, of not being exactly in his element in that tender style of writing, which such a scene, to make it worthy of the rest, would have required; and of which the specimens left us in the serious parts of the rivals are certainly not among his most felicitous efforts. by some critics the incident of the screen has been censured, as a contrivance unworthy of the dignity of comedy. [footnote: "in the old comedy, the catastrophe is occasioned, in general, by a change in the mind of some principal character, artfully prepared and cautiously conducted;--in the modern, the unfolding of the plot is effected by the overturning of a screen, the opening of a door, or some other equally dignified machine."--gifford, _essay on the writings of massinger_.] but in real life, of which comedy must condescend to be the copy, events of far greater importance are brought about by accidents as trivial; and in a world like ours, where the falling of an apple has led to the discovery of the laws of gravitation, it is surely too fastidious to deny to the dramatist the discovery of an intrigue by the falling of a screen. there is another objection as to the manner of employing this machine, which, though less grave, is perhaps less easily answered. joseph, at the commencement of the scene, desires his servant to draw the screen before the window, because "his opposite neighbor is a maiden lady of so anxious a temper;" yet, afterwards, by placing lady teazle between the screen and the window, he enables this inquisitive lady to indulge her curiosity at leisure. it might be said, indeed, that joseph, with the alternative of exposure to either the husband or neighbor, chooses the lesser evil;--but the oversight hardly requires a defence. from the trifling nature of these objections to the dramatic merits of the school for scandal, it will be seen, that, like the criticism of momus on the creaking of venus's shoes, they only show how perfect must be the work in which no greater faults can be found. but a more serious charge has been brought against it on the score of morality, and the gay charm thrown around the irregularities of charles is pronounced to be dangerous to the interests of honesty and virtue. there is no doubt that in this character only the fairer side of libertinism is presented,-- that the merits of being in debt are rather too fondly insisted upon, and with a grace and spirit that might seduce even creditors into admiration. it was, indeed, playfully said, that no tradesman who applauded charles could possibly have the face to dun the author afterwards. in looking, however, to the race of rakes that had previously held possession of the stage, we cannot help considering our release from the contagion of so much coarseness and selfishness to be worth even the increased risk of seduction that may have succeeded to it; and the remark of burke, however questionable in strict ethics, is, at least, true on the stage,--that "vice loses half its evil by losing all its grossness." it should be recollected, too, that, in other respects, the author applies the lash of moral satire very successfully. that group of slanderers who, like the chorus of the eumenides, go searching about for their prey with "eyes that drop poison," represent a class of persons in society who richly deserve such ridicule, and who--like their prototypes in aeschylus trembling before the shafts of apollo--are here made to feel the full force of the archery of wit. it is indeed a proof of the effect and use of such satire, that the name of "mrs. candor" has become one of those formidable bye-words, which have more power in putting folly and ill-nature out of countenance, than whole volumes of the wisest remonstrance and reasoning. the poetical justice exercised upon the tartuffe of sentiment, joseph, is another service to the cause of morals, which should more than atone for any dangerous embellishment of wrong that the portraiture of the younger brother may exhibit. indeed, though both these characters are such as the moralist must visit with his censure, there can be little doubt to which we should, in real life, give the preference;--the levities and errors of the one, arising from warmth of heart and of youth, may be merely like those mists that exhale from summer streams, obscuring them awhile to the eye, without affecting the native purity of their waters; while the hypocrisy of the other is like the _mirage_ of the desert, shining with promise on the surface, but all false and barren beneath. in a late work, professing to be the memoirs of mr. sheridan, there are some wise doubts expressed as to his being really the author of the school for scandal, to which, except for the purpose of exposing absurdity, i should not have thought it worth while to allude. it is an old trick of detraction,--and one, of which it never tires,--to father the works of eminent writers upon others; or, at least, while it kindly leaves an author the credit of his worst performances, to find some one in the background to ease him of the fame of his best. when this sort of charge is brought against a cotemporary, the motive is intelligible; but, such an abstract pleasure have some persons in merely unsettling the crowns of fame, that a worthy german has written an elaborate book to prove, that the iliad was written, not by that particular homer the world supposes, but by some _other_ homer! indeed, if mankind were to be influenced by those _qui tam_ critics, who have, from time to time, in the course of the history of literature, exhibited informations of plagiarism against great authors, the property of fame would pass from its present holders into the hands of persons with whom the world is but little acquainted. aristotle must refund to one ocellus lucanus --virgil must make a _cessio bonorum_ in favor of pisander--the metamorphoses of ovid must be credited to the account of parthenius of nicaea, and (to come to a modern instance) mr. sheridan must, according to his biographer, dr. watkins, surrender the glory of having written the school for scandal to a certain anonymous young lady, who died of a consumption in thames street! to pass, however, to less hardy assailants of the originality of this comedy,--it is said that the characters of joseph and charles were suggested by those of blifil and tom jones; that the incident of the arrival of sir oliver from india is copied from that of the return of warner in sidney biddulph; and that the hint of the famous scandal scene at lady sneerwell's is borrowed from a comedy of moliere. mr. sheridan, it is true, like all men of genius, had, in addition to the resources of his own wit, a quick apprehension of what suited his purpose in the wit of others, and a power of enriching whatever he adopted from them with such new grace, as gave him a sort of claim of paternity over it, and made it all his own. "c'est mon bien," said moliere, when accused of borrowing, "et je le reprens partout ou je le trouve;" and next, indeed, to creation, the re-production, in a new and more perfect form, of materials already existing, or the full development of thoughts that had but half blown in the hands of others, are the noblest miracles for which we look to the hand of genius. it is not my intention therefore to defend mr. sheridan from this kind of plagiarism, of which he was guilty in common with the rest of his fellow-descendants from prometheus, who all steal the spark wherever they can find it. but the instances, just alleged, of his obligations to others, are too questionable and trivial to be taken into any serious account. contrasts of character, such as charles and joseph exhibit, are as common as the lights and shadows of a landscape, and belong neither to fielding nor sheridan, but to nature. it is in the manner of transferring them to the canvas that the whole difference between the master and the copyist lies; and charles and joseph would, no doubt, have been what they are, if tom jones had never existed. with respect to the hint supposed to be taken from the novel of his mother, he at least had a right to consider any aid from that quarter as "son bien"--talent being the only patrimony to which he had succeeded. but the use made of the return of a relation in the play is wholly different from that to which the same incident is applied in the novel. besides, in those golden times of indian delinquency, the arrival of a wealthy relative from the east was no very unobvious ingredient in a story. the imitation of moliere (if, as i take for granted, the misanthrope be the play, in which the origin of the famous scandal scene is said to be found) is equally faint and remote, and, except in the common point of scandal, untraceable. nothing, indeed, can be more unlike than the manner in which the two scenes are managed. celimene, in moliere, bears the whole _frais_ of the conversation; and this female la bruyere's tedious and solitary dissections of character would be as little borne on the english stage, as the quick and dazzling movement of so many lancets of wit as operate in the school for scandal would be tolerated on that of the french. it is frequently said that mr. sheridan was a good deal indebted to wycherley; and he himself gave, in some degree, a color to the charge, by the suspicious impatience which he betrayed whenever any allusion was made to it. he went so far, indeed, it is said, as to deny having ever read a line of wycherley (though of vanbrugh's dialogue he always spoke with the warmest admiration);--and this assertion, as well as some others equally remarkable, such as, that he never saw garrick on the stage, that he never had seen a play throughout in his life, however strange and startling they may appear, are, at least, too curious and characteristic not to be put upon record. his acquaintance with wycherley was possibly but at second-hand, and confined, perhaps, to garrick's alteration of the country wife, in which the incident, already mentioned as having been borrowed for the duenna, is preserved. there is, however, a scene in the plain dealer (act ii.), where nevil and olivia attack the characters of the persons with whom nevil had dined, of which it is difficult to believe that mr. sheridan was ignorant: as it seems to contain much of that _hyle_, or first matter, out of which his own more perfect creations were formed. in congreve's double dealer, too, (act iii. scene ) there is much which may, at least, have mixed itself with the recollections of sheridan, and influenced the course of his fancy--it being often found that the images with which the memory is furnished, like those pictures hung up before the eyes of pregnant women at sparta, produce insensibly a likeness to themselves in the offspring which the imagination brings forth. the admirable drollery in congreve about lady froth's verses on her coachman-- "for as the sun shines every day, so of our coachman i may say"-- is by no means unlikely to have suggested the doggerel of sir benjamin backbite; and the scandalous conversation in this scene, though far inferior in delicacy and ingenuity to that of sheridan, has somewhat, as the reader will see, of a parental resemblance to it:-- "_lord froth._ hee, hee, my dear; have you done? won't you join with us? we were laughing at my lady whifler and mr. sneer. "_lady f._ ay, my dear, were you? oh, filthy mr. sneer! he is a nauseous figure, a most fulsamick fop. he spent two days together in going about covent garden to suit the lining of his coach with his complexion. "_ld. f._ oh, silly! yet his aunt is as fond of him, as if she had brought the ape into the world herself. "_brisk._ who? my lady toothless? oh, she is a mortifying spectacle; she's always chewing the cud like an old ewe, "_ld. f._ then she's always ready to laugh, when sneer offers to speak; and sits in expectation of his no jest, with her gums bare, and her mouth open-- "_brisk._ like an oyster at low ebb, egad--ha, ha, ha! "_cynthia._ _(aside.)_ well, i find there are no fools so inconsiderable themselves, but they can render other people contemptible by exposing their infirmities. "_lady f._ then that t'other great strapping lady--i can't hit off her name: the old fat fool, that paints so exorbitantly. "_brisk._ i know whom you mean--but, deuce take her, i can't hit off her name either--paints, d'ye say? why she lays it on with a trowel. then she has a great beard that bristles through it, and makes her look as if she was plastered with lime and hair, let me perish." it would be a task not uninteresting, to enter into a detailed comparison of the characteristics and merits of mr. sheridan, as a dramatic writer, with those of the other great masters of the art; and to consider how far they differed or agreed with each other, in the structure of their plots and management of their dialogue--in the mode of laying the train of their repartee, or pointing the artillery of their wit. but i have already devoted to this part of my subject a much ampler space, than to some of my readers will appear either necessary or agreeable;--though by others, more interested in such topics, my diffuseness will, i trust, be readily pardoned. in tracking mr. sheridan through his too distinct careers of literature and of politics, it is on the highest point of his elevation in each that the eye naturally rests; and the school for scandal in one, and the begum speeches in the other, are the two grand heights--the "_summa biverticis umbra parnassi_" --from which he will stand out to after times, and round which, therefore, his biographer may be excused for lingering with most fondness and delay. it appears singular that, during the life of mr. sheridan, no authorized or correct edition of this play should have been published in england. he had, at one time, disposed of the copy right to mr. ridgway of piccadilly, but, after repeated applications from the latter for the manuscript, he was told by mr. sheridan, as an excuse for keeping it back, that he had been nineteen years endeavoring to satisfy himself with the style of the school for scandal, but had not yet succeeded. mr. ridgway, upon this, ceased to give him any further trouble on the subject. the edition printed in dublin is, with the exception of a few unimportant omissions and verbal differences, perfectly correct. it appears that, after the success of the comedy in london, he presented a copy of it to his eldest sister, mrs. lefanu, to be disposed of, for her own advantage, to the manager of the dublin theatre. the sum of a hundred guineas, and free admissions for her family, were the terms upon which ryder, the manager at that period, purchased from this lady the right of acting the play; and it was from the copy thus procured that the edition afterwards published in dublin was printed. i have collated this edition with the copy given by mr. sheridan to lady crewe (the last, i believe, ever revised by himself), [footnote: among the corrections in this copy (which are in his own hand-writing, and but few in number), there is one which shows not only the retentiveness of his memory, but the minute attention which he paid to the structure of his sentences. lady teazle, in her scene with sir peter in the second act, says: "that's very true, indeed, sir peter: and, after having married you, i should never pretend to taste again, i allow." it was thus that the passage stood at first in lady crewe's copy,--as it does still, too, in the dublin edition, and in that given in the collection of his works,--but in his final revision of this copy, the original reading of the sentence, such as i find it in all his earlier manuscripts of the play, is restored.--"that's very true, indeed, sir peter; and, after having married you, i am sure i should never pretend to taste again."] and find it, with the few exceptions already mentioned, correct throughout. the school for scandal has been translated into most of the languages of europe, and, among the french particularly, has undergone a variety of metamorphoses. a translation, undertaken, it appears, with the permission of sheridan himself, was published in london, in the year , by a monsieur bunell delille, who, in a dedication to "milord macdonald," gives the following account of the origin of his task: "vous savez, milord, de quelle maniere mysterieuse cette piece, qui n'a jamais ete imprime que furtivement, se trouva l'ete dernier sur ma table, en manuscrit, in-folio; et, si vous daignez vous le rappeler, apres vous avoir fait part de l'aventure, je courus chez monsieur sheridan pour lui demander la permission," &c. &c. the scenes of the auction and the screen were introduced, for the first time, i believe, on the french stage, in a little piece called, "_les deux neveux_," acted in the year , by the young comedians of the comte de beaujolais. since then, the story has been reproduced under various shapes and names:--"les portraits de famille," "valsain et florville," and, at the theatre francais, under the title of the "tartuffe de moeurs." lately, too, the taste for the subject has revived. the vaudeville has founded upon it a successful piece, called "les deux cousins;" and there is even a melodrame at the porte st. martin, entitled "l'ecole du scandale." chapter vi. further purchase of theatrical property.--monody to the memory of garrick.--essay on metre.-the critic.--essay on absentees.--political connections.--the "englishman."--elected for stafford. the document in mr. sheridan's handwriting, already mentioned, from which i have stated the sums paid in by him, dr. ford, and mr. linley, for garrick's moiety of the drury lane theatre, thus mentions the new purchase, by which he extended his interest in this property in the year :--"mr. sheridan afterwards was obliged to buy mr. lacy's moiety at a price exceeding , _l_.: this was in the year ." he then adds--what it may be as well to cite, while i have the paper before me, though relating to subsequent changes in the property:--"in order to enable mr. s. to complete this purpose, he afterwards consented to divide his original share between dr. ford and mr. linley, so as to make up each of theirs a quarter. but the price at which they purchased from mr. sheridan was not at the rate which he bought from lacy, though at an advance on the price paid to garrick. mr. s. has since purchased dr. ford's quarter for the sum of , _l_., subject to the increased incumbrance of the additional renters." by what spell all these thousands were conjured up, it would be difficult accurately to ascertain. that happy art--in which the people of this country are such adepts--of putting the future in pawn for the supply of the present, must have been the chief resource of mr. sheridan in all these later purchases. among the visible signs of his increased influence in the affairs of the theatre, was the appointment, this year, of his father to be manager;--a reconciliation having taken place between them, which was facilitated, no doubt, by the brightening prospects of the son, and by the generous confidence which his prosperity gave him in making the first advances towards such a reunion. one of the novelties of the year was a musical entertainment called the camp, which was falsely attributed to mr. sheridan at the time, and has since been inconsiderately admitted into the collection of his works. this unworthy trifle (as appears from a rough copy of it in my possession) was the production of tickell, and the patience with which his friend submitted to the imputation of having written it was a sort of "martyrdom of fame" which few but himself could afford. at the beginning of the year garrick died, and sheridan, as chief mourner, followed him to the grave. he also wrote a monody to his memory, which was delivered by mrs. yates, after the play of the west indian, in the month of march following. during the interment of garrick in poet's corner, mr. burke had remarked that the statue of shakspeare seemed to point to the grave where the great actor of his works was laid. this hint did not fall idly on the ear of sheridan, as the following _fixation_ of the thought, in the verses which he afterwards wrote, proved:-- "the throng that mourn'd, as their dead favorite pass'd, the grac'd respect that claim'd him to the last; while shakspeare's image, from its hallow'd base, seem'd to prescribe the grave and point the place." this monody, which was the longest flight ever sustained by its author in verse, is more remarkable, perhaps, for refinement and elegance, than for either novelty of thought or depth of sentiment. there is, however, a fine burst of poetical eloquence in the lines beginning "superior hopes the poet's bosom fire;" and this passage, accordingly, as being the best in the poem, was, by the gossiping critics of the day, attributed to tickell,--from the same laudable motives that had induced them to attribute tickell's bad farce to sheridan. there is no end to the variety of these small missiles of malice, with which the gullivers of the world of literature are assailed by the lilliputians around them. the chief thought which pervades this poem,--namely, the fleeting nature of the actor's art and fame,--had already been more simply expressed by garrick himself in his prologue to the clandestine marriage:-- "the painter's dead, yet still he charms the eye; while england lives, his fame can never die; but he who struts his hour upon the stage, can scarce protract his fame through half an age; nor pen nor pencil can the actor save; the art and artist have one common grave." colley cibber, too, in his portrait (if i remember right) of betterton, breaks off into the same reflection, in the following graceful passage, which is one of those instances, where prose could not be exchanged for poetry without loss:--"pity it is that the momentary beauties, flowing from an harmonious elocution, cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record; that the animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath and motion that presents them, or, at best, can but faintly glimmer through the memory of a few surviving spectators." with respect to the style and versification of the monody, the heroic couplet in which it is written has long been a sort of ulysses' bow, at which poetry tries her suitors, and at which they almost all fail. redundancy of epithet and monotony of cadence are the inseparable companions of this metre in ordinary hands; nor could all the taste and skill of sheridan keep it wholly free from these defects in his own. to the subject of metre, he had, nevertheless, paid great attention. there are among his papers some fragments of an essay [footnote: or rather memorandums collected, as was his custom, with a view to the composition of such an essay. he had been reading the writings of dr. foster, webb, &c. on this subject, with the intention, apparently, of publishing an answer to them. the following (which is one of the few consecutive passages i can find in these notes) will show how little reverence he entertained for that ancient prosody, upon which, in the system of english education, so large and precious a portion of human life is wasted:--"i never desire a stronger proof that an author is on a wrong scent on these subjects, than to see quintilian, aristotle, &c., quoted on a point where they have not the least business. all poetry is made by the ear, which must be the sole judge--it is a sort of musical rhythmus. if then we want to reduce our practical harmony to rules, every man, with a knowledge of his own language and a good ear, is at once competent to the undertaking. let him trace it to music--if he has no knowledge, let him inquire. "we have lost all notion of the ancient accent;--we have lost their pronunciation;--all puzzling about it is ridiculous, and trying to find out the melody of our own verse by theirs is still worse. we should have had all our own metres, if we never had heard a word of their language, --this i affirm. every nation finds out for itself a national melody; and we may say of it, as of religion, no place has been discovered without music. a people, likewise, as their language improves, will introduce a music into their poetry, which is simply (that is to say, the numerical part of poetry, which must be distinguished from the imaginary) the transferring the time of melody into speaking. what then have the greeks or romans to do with our music? it is plain that our admiration of their verse is mere pedantry, because we could not adopt it. sir philip sidney failed. if it had been melody, we should have had it; our language is just as well calculated for it. "it is astonishing that the excessive ridiculousness of a gradus or prosodial dictionary has never struck our scholars. the idea of looking into a book to see whether the _sound_ of a syllable be short or long is absolutely as much a bull of boeotian pedantry as ever disgraced ireland." he then adds, with reference to some mistakes which dr. foster had appeared to him to have committed in his accentuation of english words:--"what strange effects has this system brought about! it has so corrupted the ear, that absolutely our scholars cannot tell an english long syllable from a short one. if a boy were to make the _a_ in 'cano' or 'amo' long, dr. f. would no doubt feel his ear hurt, and yet...." of the style in which some of his observations are committed to paper, the following is a curious specimen:--"dr. foster says that short syllables, when inflated with that emphasis which the sense demands, swell in height, length, and breadth beyond their natural size.--the devil they do! here is a most omnipotent power in emphasis. quantity and accent may in vain toil to produce a little effect, but emphasis comes at once and monopolizes the power of them both."] which he had commenced on the nature of poetical accent and emphasis; and the adaptation of his verses to the airs in the duenna--even allowing for the aid which he received from mrs. sheridan--shows a degree of musical feeling, from which a much greater variety of cadence might be expected, than we find throughout the versification of this poem. the taste of the time, however, was not prepared for any great variations in the music of the couplet. the regular foot-fall, established so long, had yet been but little disturbed; and the only license of this kind hazarded through the poem--"all perishable"--was objected to by some of the author's critical friends, who suggested, that it would be better thus: "all doom'd to perish." whatever in more important points may be the inferiority of the present school of poetry to that which preceded it, in the music of versification there can be but little doubt of its improvement; nor has criticism, perhaps, ever rendered a greater service to the art, than in helping to unseal the ears of its worshippers to that true spheric harmony of the elders of song, which, during a long period of our literature, was as unheard as if it never existed. the monody does not seem to have kept the stage more than five or six nights;--nor is this surprising. the recitation of a long, serious address must always be, to a certain degree, ineffective on the stage; and, though this subject contained within it many strong sources of interest, as well personal as dramatic, they were not, perhaps, turned to account by the poet with sufficient warmth and earnestness on his own part, to excite a very ready response of sympathy in others. feeling never wanders into generalities--it is only by concentrating his rays upon one point that even genius can kindle strong emotion; and, in order to produce any such effect in the present instance upon the audience, garrick himself ought to have been kept prominently and individually before their eyes in almost every line. instead of this, however, the man is soon forgotten in his art, which is then deliberately compared with other arts, and the attention, through the greater part of the poem, is diffused over the transitoriness of actors in general, instead of being brought strongly to a focus upon the particular loss just sustained. even in those parts which apply most directly to garrick, the feeling is a good deal diluted by this tendency to the abstract; and, sometimes, by a false taste of personification, like that in the very first line,-- "if dying _excellence_ deserves a tear," where the substitution of a quality of the man for the man himself [footnote: another instance of this fault occurs in his song "when sable night:"-- "as some fond mother, o'er her babe deploring, wakes _its beauty_ with a tear;" where the clearness and reality of the picture are spoiled by the affectation of representing the _beauty_ of the child as waked, instead of the child itself.] puts the mind, as it were, one remove farther from the substantial object of its interest, and disturbs that sense of reality, on which the operations even of fancy itself ought to be founded. but it is very easy to play the critic--so easy as to be a task of but little glory. for one person who could produce such a poem as this, how many thousands exist and have existed, who could shine in the exposition of its faults! though insufficient, perhaps, in itself, to create a reputation for an author, yet, as a "_stella coronae_"--one of the stars in that various crown, which marks the place of sheridan in the firmament of fame,--it not only well sustains its own part in the lustre, but draws new light from the host of brilliancy around it. it was in the course of this same year that he produced the entertainment of the critic--his last legitimate offering on the shrine of the dramatic muse. in this admirable farce we have a striking instance of that privilege which, as i have already said, genius assumes, of taking up subjects that had passed through other hands, and giving them a new value and currency by his stamp. the plan of a rehearsal was first adopted for the purpose of ridiculing dryden, by the duke of buckingham; but, though there is much laughable humor in some of the dialogue between bayes and his friends, the salt of the satire altogether was not of a very conservative nature, and the piece continued to be served up to the public long after it had lost its relish. fielding tried the same plan in a variety of pieces--in his pasquin, his historical register, his author's farce, his eurydice, &c.,--but without much success, except in the comedy of pasquin, which had, i believe, at first a prosperous career, though it has since, except with the few that still read it for its fine tone of pleasantry, fallen into oblivion. it was reserved for sheridan to give vitality to this form of dramatic humor, and to invest even his satirical portraits --as in the instance of sir fretful plagiary, which, it is well known, was designed for cumberland--with a generic character, which, without weakening the particular resemblance, makes them representatives for ever of the whole class to which the original belonged. bayes, on the contrary, is a caricature--made up of little more than personal peculiarities, which may amuse as long as reference can be had to the prototype, but, like those supplemental features furnished from the living subject by taliacotius, fall lifeless the moment the individual that supplied them is defunct. it is evident, however, that bayes was not forgotten in the composition of the critic. his speech, where the two kings of brentford are singing in the clouds, may be considered as the exemplar which sheridan had before him in writing some of the rehearsal scenes of puff:-- "_smith._ well, but methinks the sense of this song is not very plain. "_bayes._ plain! why did you ever hear any people in the clouds sing plain? they must be all for flight of fancy at its fullest range, without the least check or control upon it. when once you tie up spirits and people in clouds to speak plain, you spoil all." there are particular instances of imitation still more direct. thus in the critic: "_enter_ sir walter raleigh _and_ sir christopher hatton. "_sir christ. h._ true, gallant raleigh.-- "_dangle._ what, had they been talking before? "_puff._ oh yes, all the way as they came along." in the same manner in the rehearsal, where the physician and usher of the two kings enter:-- "_phys._ sir, to conclude-- "_smith._ what, before he begins? "_bayes._ no, sir, you must know they had been talking of this a pretty while without. "_smith._ where? in the tyring room? "_bayes._ why, ay, sir. he's so dull." bayes, at the opening of the fifth act, says, "now, gentlemen, i will be bold to say, i'll show you the greatest scene that england ever saw; i mean not for words, for those i don't value, but for state, show, and magnificence." puff announces his grand scene in much the same manner:-- "now then for my magnificence! my battle! my noise! and my procession!" in fielding, too, we find numerous hints or germs, that have come to their full growth of wit in the critic. for instance, in trapwit (a character in "pasquin") there are the rudiments of sir fretful as well as of puff:-- "_sneerwell._ yes, faith, i think i would cut that last speech. "_trapwit._ sir, i'll sooner cut off an ear or two; sir, that's the very best thing in the whole play.... "_trapwit._ now, mr. sneerwell, we shall begin my third and last act; and i believe i may defy all the poets who have ever writ, or ever will write, to produce its equal: it is, sir, so crammed with drums and trumpets, thunder and lightning, battles and ghosts, that i believe the audience will want no entertainment after it." the manager, marplay, in "the author's farce," like him of drury lane in the critic, "does the town the honor of writing himself;" and the following incident in "the historical register" suggested possibly the humorous scene of lord burleigh:-- "enter four patriots from different doors, who meet in the centre and shake hands. "_sour-wit._ these patriots seem to equal your greatest politicians in their silence. "_medley._ sir, what they think now cannot well be spoke, but you may conjecture a good deal from their shaking their heads." such coincidences, whether accidental or designed, are at least curious, and the following is another of somewhat a different kind:--"steal! (says sir fretful) to be sure they may; and egad, serve your best thoughts as gipsies do stolen children, disfigure them, to make 'em pass for their own." [footnote: this simile was again made use of by him in a speech upon mr. pitt's india bill, which he declared to be "nothing more than a bad plagiarism on mr. fox's, disfigured, indeed, as gipsies do stolen children, in order to make them pass for their own."] churchill has the same idea in nearly the same language:-- "still pilfers wretched plans and makes them worse, like gipsies, lest the stolen brat be known, defacing first, then claiming for their own." the character of puff, as i have already shown, was our author's first dramatic attempt; and, having left it unfinished in the porch as he entered the temple of comedy, he now, we see, made it worthy of being his farewell oblation in quitting it. like eve's flowers, it was his "early visitation, and his last." we must not, however, forget a lively epilogue which he wrote this year, for miss hannah more's tragedy of fatal falsehood, in which there is a description of a blue-stocking lady, executed with all his happiest point. of this dense, epigrammatic style, in which every line is a cartridge of wit in itself, sheridan was, both in prose and verse, a consummate master; and if any one could hope to succeed, after pope, in a mock epic, founded upon fashionable life, it would have been, we should think, the writer of this epilogue. there are some verses, written on the "_immortelle emilie_" of voltaire, in which her employments, as a _savante_ and a woman of the world, are thus contrasted:-- _"tout lui plait, tout convient a son vaste genie, les livres, les bijoux, les compas, les pompons, les vers, les diamans, les beribis, l'optique, l'algebre, les soupers, le latin, les jupons, l'opera, les proces, le bal, et la physique."_ how powerfully has sheridan, in bringing out the same contrasts, shown the difference between the raw material of a thought, and the fine fabric as it comes from the hands of a workman:-- "what motley cares corilla's mind perplex, whom maids and metaphors conspire to vex! in studious deshabille behold her sit, a letter'd gossip and a housewife wit: at once invoking, though for different views, her gods, her cook, her milliner, and muse. round her strew'd room a frippery chaos lies, a chequer'd wreck of notable and wise. bills, books, caps, couplets, combs, a varied mass, oppress the toilet and obscure the glass; unfinished here an epigram is laid, and there a mantua-maker's bill unpaid. there new-born plays foretaste the town's applause, there dormant patterns pine for future gauze. a moral essay now is all her care, a satire next, and then a bill of fare. a scene she now projects, and now a dish, here act the first, and here 'remove with fish.' now, while this eye in a fine frenzy rolls, that soberly casts up a bill for coals; black pins and daggers in one leaf she sticks. and tears, and threads, and bowls, and thimbles mix." we must now prepare to follow the subject of this memoir into a field of display, altogether different, where he was in turn to become an actor before the public himself, and where, instead of inditing lively speeches for others, he was to deliver the dictates of his eloquence and wit from his own lips. however the lovers of the drama may lament this diversion of his talents, and doubt whether even the chance of another school for scandal were not worth more than all his subsequent career, yet to the individual himself, full of ambition, and conscious of versatility of powers, such an opening into a new course of action and fame, must have been like one of those sudden turnings of the road in a beautiful country, which dazzle the eyes of a traveller with new glories, and invite him on to untried paths of fertility and sunshine. it has been before remarked how early, in a majority of instances, the dramatic talent has come to its fullest maturity. mr. sheridan would possibly never have exceeded what he had already done, and his celebrity had now reached that point of elevation, where, by a sort of optical deception in the atmosphere of fame, to remain stationary is to seem, in the eyes of the spectators, to fall. he had, indeed, enjoyed only the triumphs of talent, and without even descending to those ovations, or minor triumphs, which in general are little more than celebrations of escape from defeat, and to which they, who surpass all but themselves, are often capriciously reduced. it is questionable, too, whether, in any other walk of literature, he would have sustained the high reputation which he acquired by the drama. very rarely have dramatic writers, even of the first rank, exhibited powers of equal rate, when out of the precincts of their own art; while, on the other hand, poets of a more general range, whether epic, lyric, or satiric, have as rarely succeeded on the stage. there is, indeed, hardly one of our celebrated dramatic authors (and the remark might be extended to other countries) who has left works worthy of his reputation in any other line; and mr. sheridan, perhaps, might only have been saved from adding to the list of failures, by such a degree of prudence or of indolence as would have prevented him from making the attempt. he may, therefore, be said to have closed his account with literature, when not only the glory of his past successes, but the hopes of all that he might yet have achieved, were set down fully, and without any risk of forfeiture, to his credit; and, instead of being left, like alexander, to sigh for new worlds to vanquish, no sooner were his triumphs in one sphere of action complete than another opened to invite him to new conquests. we have already seen that politics, from the very commencement of his career, had held divided empire with literature in the tastes and studies of mr. sheridan; and, even in his fullest enjoyment of the smiles of the comic muse, while he stood without a rival in _her_ affections, the "_musa severior_" of politics was estranging the constancy of his-- "_te tenet, absentes alios suspirat amores_" "_e'en while perfection lies within his arms, he strays in thought, and sighs for other charms._" among his manuscripts there are some sheets of an essay on absentees, which, from the allusions it contains to the measures then in contemplation for ireland, must have been written, i rather think, about the year --when the school for scandal was in its first career of success, and the critic preparing, at no very long interval, to partake its triumph. it is obvious, from some expressions used in this pamphlet, that his intention was, if not to publish it in ireland, at least to give it the appearance of having been written there--and, except the pure unmixed motive of rendering a service to his country, by the discussion of a subject so closely connected with her interests, it is difficult to conceive what inducement he could have had to select at that moment such a topic for his pen. the plain, unpretending style of the greater part of the composition sufficiently proves that literary display was not the object of it; while the absence of all criminatory matter against the government precludes the idea of its having originated in party zeal. as it is curious to observe how soberly his genius could yoke itself to grave matter of fact, after the winged excursions in which it had been indulging, i shall here lay some paragraphs of this pamphlet before the reader. in describing the effects of the prevailing system of pasturage--one of the evils attributed by him to absentees,--he thus, with occasional irradiations of eloquence and ingenuity, expresses himself:-- "now it must ever be the interest of the absentee to place his estates in the hands of as few tenants as possible, by which means there will be less difficulty or hazard in collecting his rents, and less intrusted to an agent, if his estate require one. the easiest method of effecting this is by laying the land out for pasturage, and letting it in gross to those who deal only in 'a fatal living crop'--whose produce we are not allowed a market for when manufactured, while we want art, honesty, and encouragement to fit it for home consumption. thus the indolent extravagance of the lord becomes subservient to the interest of a few mercenary graziers--shepherds of most unpastoral principles--while the veteran husbandman may lean on the shattered, unused plough, and view himself surrounded with flocks that furnish raiment without food. or, if his honesty be not proof against the hard assaults of penury, he may be led to revenge himself on these dumb innovators of his little field-- then learn too late that some portion of the soil is reserved for a crop more fatal even than that which tempted and destroyed him. "without dwelling on the particular ill effects of non-residence in this case, i shall conclude with representing that principal and supreme prerogative which the absentee foregoes--the prerogative of mercy, of charity. the estated resident is invested with a kind of relieving providence--a power to heal the wounds of undeserved misfortune--to break the blows of adverse fortune, and leave chance no power to undo the hopes of honest persevering industry. there cannot surely be a more happy station than that wherein prosperity and worldly interest are to be best forwarded by an exertion of the most endearing offices of humanity. this is his situation who lives on the soil which furnishes him with means to live. it is his interest to watch the devastation of the storm, the ravage of the flood--to mark the pernicious extremes of the elements, and, by a judicious indulgence and assistance, to convert the sorrows and repinings of the sufferer into blessings on his humanity. by such a conduct he saves his people from the sin of unrighteous murmurs, and makes heaven his debtor for their resignation. "it will be said that the residing in another kingdom will never erase from humane minds the duty and attention which they owe to those whom they have left to cultivate their demesnes. i will not say that absence lessens their humanity, or that the superior dissipation which they enjoy in it contracts their feelings to coarser enjoyments--without this, we know that agents and stewards are seldom intrusted with full powers of aiding and remitting. in some, compassion would be injustice. they are, in general, content with the virtue of justice and punctuality towards their employer; part of which they conceive to be a rigorous exaction of his rents, and, where difficulty occurs, their process is simply to distrain and to eject--a rigor that must ever be prejudicial to an estate, and which, practised frequently, betrays either an original negligence, or want of judgment in choosing tenants, or an extreme inhumanity towards their incidental miscarriages. "but, granting an undiminished benevolence to exist on the part both of the landlord and the agent, yet can we expect any great exertion of pathetic eloquence to proceed from the latter to palliate any deficiency of the tenants?--or, if there were, do we not know how much lighter an impression is made by distresses related to us than by those which are '_oculis subjecta fidelibus?_ the heart, the seat of charity and compassion, is more accessible to the senses than the understanding. many, who would be unmoved by any address to the latter, would melt into charity at the eloquent persuasion of silent sorrow. when he _sees_ the widow's tear, and hears the orphan's sigh, every one will act with a sudden uniform rectitude, because he acts from the divine impulse of 'free love dealt equally to all.'" the blind selfishness of those commercial laws, which england so long imposed upon ireland,--like ligatures to check the circulation of the empire's life-blood,--is thus adverted to: "though i have mentioned the decay of trade in ireland as insufficient to occasion the great increase of emigration, yet is it to be considered as an important ill effect, arising from the same cause. it may be said that trade is now in higher repute in ireland, and that the exports and imports (which are always supposed the test of it) are daily increasing. this may be admitted to be true, yet cannot it be said that the trade of the kingdom flourishes. the trade of a kingdom should increase in exact proportion to its luxuries, and those of the nations connected with it. therefore it is no argument to say, that, on examining the accounts of customs fifty years back, they appear to be trebled now; for england, by some sudden stroke, might lose such a proportion of its trade, as would ruin it as a commercial nation, yet the amount of what remained might be tenfold of what it enjoyed in the reign of queen elizabeth. trade, properly speaking, is the commutations of the product of each country-- this extends itself to the exchange of commodities in which art has fixed a price. where a nation hath free power to export the works of its industry, the balance in such articles will certainly be in its favor. thus had we in ireland power to export our manufactured silks, stuffs, and woollens, we should be assured that it would be our interest to import and cultivate their materials. but, as this is not the case, the gain of individuals is no proof that the nation is benefited by such commerce. for instance, the exportation of un-wrought wool may be very advantageous to the dealer, and, through his hands, bring money, or a beneficial return of commodities into the kingdom; but trace the ill effects of depopulating such tracts of land as are necessary for the support of flocks to supply this branch, and number those who are deprived of support and employment by it, and so become a dead weight on the community--we shall find that the nation in fact will be the poorer for this apparent advantage. this would be remedied were we allowed to export it manufactured; because the husbandman might get his bread as a manufacturer. "another principal cause that the trade may increase, without proportionally benefiting the nation, is that a great part of the stock which carries on the foreign trade of ireland belongs to those who reside out of the country--thus the ultimate and material profits on it are withdrawn to another kingdom. it is likewise to be observed, that, though the exportations may appear to exceed the importations, yet may this in part arise from the accounts of the former being of a more certain nature, and those of the latter very conjectural, and always falling short of the fact." though mr. sheridan afterwards opposed a union with ireland, the train of reasoning which he pursued in this pamphlet naturally led him to look forward to such an arrangement between the two countries, as, perhaps, the only chance of solving the long-existing problem of their relationship to each other. "it is the state, (he continues,) the luxury, and fashions of the wealthy, that give life to the artificers of elegance and taste;--it is their numerous train that sends the rapid shuttle through the loom;-- and, when they leave their country, they not only beggar these dependents, but the tribes that lived by clothing them. "an extravagant passion for luxuries hath been in all nations a symptom of an approaching dissolution. however, in commercial states, while it predominates only among the higher ranks, it brings with it the conciliating advantage of being greatly beneficial to trade and manufactures. but, how singularly unfortunate is that kingdom, where the luxurious passions of the great beggar those who should be supported by them,--a kingdom, whose wealthy members keep equal pace with their numbers in the dissipated and fantastical pursuits of life, without suffering the lower class to glean even the dregs of their vices. while this is the case with ireland the prosperity of her trade must be all forced and unnatural; and if, in the absence of its wealthy and estated members, the state already feels all the disadvantages of a union, it cannot do better than endeavor at a free trade by effecting it in reality." having demonstrated, at some length, the general evil of absenteeism, he thus proceeds to inquire into the most eligible remedy for it:-- "the evil complained of is simply the absence of the proprietors of a certain portion of the landed property. this is an evil unprovided against by the legislature;--therefore, we are not to consider whether it might not with propriety have been guarded against, but whether a remedy or alleviation of it can now be attempted consistently with the spirit of the constitution. on examining all the most obvious methods of attempting this, i believe there will appear but two practicable. the first will be by enacting a law for the frequent summoning the proprietors of landed property to appear _de facto_ at stated times. the second will be the voting a supply to be raised from the estates of such as do never reside in the kingdom. "the first, it is obvious, would be an obligation of no use, without a penalty was affixed to the breach of it, amounting to the actual forfeiture of the estate of the recusant. this, we are informed, was once the case in ireland. but at present, whatever advantage the kingdom might reap by it, it could not possibly be reconciled to the genius of the constitution: and, if the fine were trifling, it would prove the same as the second method, with the disadvantage of appearing to treat as an act of delinquency what in no way infringes the municipal laws of the kingdom. "in the second method the legislature is, in no respect, to be supposed to regard the _person_ of the absentee. it prescribes no place of residence to him, nor attempts to summon or detain him. the light it takes up the point in is this--that the welfare of the whole is injured by the produce of a certain portion of the soil being sent out of the kingdom.... it will be said that the produce of the soil is not exported by being carried to our own markets; but if the value received in exchange for it, whatever it be, whether money or commodities, be exported, it is exactly the same in its ultimate effects as if the grain, flocks, &c. were literally sent to england. in this light, then, if the state is found to suffer by such an exportation, its deducting a small part from the produce is simply a reimbursing the public, and putting the loss of the public (to whose welfare the interest of individuals is always to be subservient) upon those very members who occasion that loss. "this is only to be effected by a tax." though to a political economist of the present day much of what is so loosely expressed in these extracts will appear but the crudities of a tyro in the science, yet, at the time when they were written,--when both mr. fox and mr. burke could expatiate on the state of ireland, without a single attempt to develop or enforce those simple, but wise principles of commercial policy, every one of which had been violated in the restrictions on her industry,--it was no small merit in mr. sheridan to have advanced even thus far in a branch of knowledge so rare and so important. in addition to his own early taste for politics, the intimacies which he had now formed with some of the most eminent public men of the day must have considerably tended to turn his ambition in that direction. at what time he first became acquainted with mr. fox i have no means of ascertaining exactly. among the letters addressed to him by that statesman, there is one which, from the formality of its style, must have been written at the very commencement of their acquaintance--but, unluckily, it is not dated. lord john townshend, who first had the happiness of bringing two such men together, has given the following interesting account of their meeting, and of the impressions which they left upon the minds of each other. his lordship, however, has not specified the period of this introduction:-- "i made the first dinner-party at which they met, having told fox that all the notions he might have conceived of sheridan's talents and genius from the comedy of the rivals, &c. would fall infinitely short of the admiration of his astonishing powers, which i was sure he would entertain at the first interview. the first interview between them (there were very few present, only tickell and myself, and one or two more) i shall never forget. fox told me, after breaking up from dinner, that he had always thought hare, after my uncle, charles townshend, the wittiest man he ever met with, but that sheridan surpassed them both infinitely; and sheridan told me next day that he was quite lost in admiration of fox, and that it was a puzzle to him to say what he admired most, his commanding superiority of talent and universal knowledge, or his playful fancy, artless manners, and benevolence of heart, which showed itself in every word he uttered." with burke mr. sheridan became acquainted at the celebrated turk's head club,--and, if any incentive was wanting to his new passion for political distinction, the station to which he saw his eloquent fellow- countryman exalted, with no greater claims from birth or connection than his own, could not have failed to furnish it. his intimacy with mr. windham began, as we have seen, very early at bath, and the following letter, addressed to him by that gentleman from norfolk, in the year , is a curious record not only of the first political movements of a person so celebrated as mr. windham, but of the interest with which sheridan then entered into the public measures of the day:-- "jan. , . "i fear my letter will greatly disappoint your hopes. [footnote: mr. windham had gone down to norfolk, in consequence of a proposed meeting in that county, under the auspices of lord townshend, for the purpose of raising a subscription in aid of government, to be applied towards carrying on the war with the american colonies. in about three weeks after the date of this letter, the meeting was held, and mr. windham, in a spirited answer to lord townshend, made the first essay of his eloquence in public.] i have no account to send you of my answering lord townshend--of hard-fought contests--spirited resolves--ballads, mobs, cockades, and lord north burnt in effigy. we have had a bloodless campaign, but not from backwardness in our troops, but for the most creditable reason that can be--want of resolution in the enemy to encounter us. when i got down here early this morning, expecting to find a room prepared, a chair set for the president, and nothing wanting but that the orators should begin, i was surprised to learn that no advertisement had appeared on the other part; but that lord t. having dined at a meeting, where the proposal was received very coldly, had taken fright, and for the time at least had dropped the proposal. it had appeared, therefore, to those whom i applied to (and i think very rightly) that till an advertisement was inserted by them, or was known for certain to be intended, it would not be proper for any thing to be done by us. in this state, therefore, it rests. the advertisement which we agreed upon is left at the printer's, ready to be inserted upon the appearance of one from them. we lie upon our arms, and shall begin to act upon any motion of the enemy. i am very sorry that things have taken this turn, as i came down in full confidence of being able to accomplish something distinguished. i had drawn up, as i came along, a tolerably good paper, to be distributed to-morrow in the streets, and settled pretty well in my head the terms of a protest--besides some pretty smart pieces of oratory, delivered upon newmarket heath. i never felt so much disposition to exert myself before--i hope from my never having before so fair a prospect of doing it with success. when the coach comes in, i hope i shall receive a packet from you, which shall not be lost, though it may not be used immediately. "i must leave off writing, for i have got some other letters to send by to-night's post. writing in this ink is like speaking with respect to the utter annihilation of what is past;--by the time it gets to you, perhaps, it may have become legible, but i have no chance of reading over my letter myself. "i shall not suffer this occasion to pass over entirely without benefit. "believe me yours most truly, "w. wlndham. "tell mrs. sheridan that i hope she will have a closet ready, where i may remain till the heat of the pursuit is over. my friends in france have promised to have a vessel ready upon the coast. "richard brinsley sheridan, esq., "queen street, lincoln's inn fields." the first political service rendered by mr. sheridan to the party with whom he now closely connected himself, was the active share which he took in a periodical paper called the englishman, set up by the whigs for the purpose of seconding, out of parliament, the crimination and invective of which they kept up such a brisk fire within. the intention, as announced by sheridan in the first number, [footnote: published th of march, .] was, like swift in the drapier's letters, to accommodate the style of the publication to the comprehension of persons in "that class of the community, who are commonly called the _honest_ and _industrious_." but this plan,--which not even swift, independent as was his humor of the artifices of style, could adhere to,--was soon abandoned, and there is in most of sheridan's own papers a finesse and ingenuity of allusion, which only the most cultivated part of his readers could fully enjoy. for instance, in exposing the inconsistency of lord north, who had lately consented in a committee of the whole house, to a motion which he had violently opposed in the house itself,--thus "making (says sheridan) that respectable assembly disobey its own orders, and the members reject with contempt, under the form of a chairman, the resolutions they had imposed on themselves under the authority of a speaker;"--he proceeds in a strain of refined raillery, as little suited to the "honest and industrious" class of the community, as swift's references to locke, molyneux, and sydney, were to the readers for whom he also professed to write:-- "the burlesque of any plan, i know, is rather a recommendation of it to your lordship; and the ridicule you might throw on this assembly, by continuing to support this athanasian distinction of powers in the unity of an apparently corporate body, might in the end compensate to you for the discredit you have incurred in the attempt. "a deliberative body of so _uncommon a form_, would probably be deemed a kind of state monster by the ignorant and the vulgar. this might at first increase their _awe_ for it, and so far counteract your lordship's intentions. they would probably approach it with as much reverence as stephano does the monster in the tempest:--'what, one body and two voices--a most delicate monster!' however, they would soon grow familiarized to it, and probably hold it in as little respect as they were wished to do. they would find it on many occasions 'a very shallow monster,' and particularly 'a most poor _credulous_ monster,'-- while your lordship, as keeper, would enjoy every advantage and profit that could be made of it. you would have the benefit of the _two voices_, which would be the monster's great excellencies, and would be peculiarly serviceable to your lordship. with 'the forward voice' you would aptly promulgate those vigorous schemes and productive resources, in which your lordship's fancy is so pregnant; while 'the backward voice' might be kept solely for _recantation_. the monster, to maintain its character, must appear no novice in the science of flattery, or in the talents of servility,--and while it could never scruple to bear any burdens your lordship should please to lay on it, you would always, on the _approach of a storm_, find a shelter under its gabardine." the most celebrated of these papers was the attack upon lord george germaine, written also by mr. sheridan,--a composition which, for unaffected strength of style and earnestness of feeling, may claim a high rank among the models of political vituperation. to every generation its own contemporary press seems always more licentious than any that had preceded it; but it may be questioned, whether the boldness of modern libel has ever gone beyond the direct and undisguised personality, with which one cabinet minister was called a liar and another a coward, in this and other writings of the popular party at that period. the following is the concluding paragraph of this paper against lord george germaine, which is in the form of a letter to the freeholders of england:-- "it would be presuming too much on your attention, at present, to enter into an investigation of the measures and system of war which this minister has pursued,--these shall certainly be the subject of a future paper. at present i shall only observe that, however mortifying it may be to reflect on the ignominy and disasters which this inauspicious character has brought on his country, yet there are consoling circumstances to be drawn even from his ill success. the calamities which may be laid to his account are certainly great; but, had the case been otherwise, it may fairly be questioned whether the example of a degraded and reprobated officer (preposterously elevated to one of the first stations of honor and confidence in the state) directing the military enterprises of this country with unlooked-for prosperity, might not ultimately be the cause of more extensive evils than even those, great as they are, which we at present experience: whether from so fatal a precedent we might not be led to introduce characters under similar disqualifications into every department:--to appoint atheists to the mitre, _jews_ to the exchequer,--to select a treasury-bench from the _justitia_, to place _brown dignam_ on the wool-sack, and sir hugh palliser at the head of the admiralty." the englishman, as might be expected from the pursuits and habits of those concerned in it, was not very punctually conducted, and after many apologies from the publisher for its not appearing at the stated times, (wednesdays and saturdays,) ceased altogether on the d of june. from an imperfect sketch of a new number, found among mr. sheridan's manuscripts, it appears that there was an intention of reviving it a short time after--probably towards the autumn of the same year, from the following allusion to mr. gibbon, whose acceptance of a seat at the board of trade took place, if i recollect right, in the summer of :-- "this policy is very evident among the majority in both houses, who, though they make no scruple in private to acknowledge the total incapacity of ministers, yet, in public, speak and vote as if they believed them to have every virtue under heaven; and, on this principle, some gentlemen,--as mr. gibbon, for instance,--while, in private, they indulge their opinion pretty freely, will yet, in their zeal for the public good, even condescend to accept a place, in order to give a color to their confidence in the wisdom of the government." it is needless to say that mr. sheridan had been for some time among the most welcome guests at devonshire house--that rendezvous of all the wits and beauties of fashionable life, where politics was taught to wear its most attractive form, and sat enthroned, like virtue among the epicureans, with all the graces and pleasures for handmaids. without any disparagement of the manly and useful talents, which are at present no where more conspicuous than in the upper ranks of society, it may be owned that for wit, social powers, and literary accomplishments, the political men of the period under consideration formed such an assemblage as it would be flattery to say that our own times can parallel. the natural tendency of the excesses of the french revolution was to produce in the higher classes of england an increased reserve of manner, and, of course, a proportionate restraint on all within their circle, which have been fatal to conviviality and humor, and not very propitious to wit--subduing both manners and conversation to a sort of polished level, to rise above which is often thought almost as vulgar as to sink below it. of the greater ease of manners that existed some forty or fifty years ago, one trifling, but not the less significant, indication was the habit, then prevalent among men of high station, of calling each other by such familiar names as dick, jack, tom, &c. [footnote: dick sheridan, ned burke, jack townshend, tom grenville, &c. &c.]--a mode of address that brings with it, in its very sound, the notion of conviviality and playfulness, and, however unrefined, implies, at least, that ease and _sea-room_, in which wit spreads its canvas most fearlessly. with respect to literary accomplishments, too,--in one branch of which, poetry, almost all the leading politicians of that day distinguished themselves--the change that has taken place in the times, independently of any want of such talent, will fully account for the difference that we witness, in this respect, at present. as the public mind becomes more intelligent and watchful, statesmen can the less afford to trifle with their talents, or to bring suspicion upon their fitness for their own vocation, by the failures which they risk in deviating into others. besides, in poetry, the temptation of distinction no longer exists--the commonness of that talent in the market, at present, being such as to reduce the value of an elegant copy of verses very far below the price it was at, when mr. hayley enjoyed an almost exclusive monopoly of the article. in the clever epistle, by tickell, "from the hon. charles fox, partridge-shooting, to the hon. john townshend, cruising," some of the most shining persons in that assemblage of wits and statesmen, who gave a lustre to brooks's club-house at the period of which we are speaking, are thus agreeably grouped:-- "soon as to brooks's thence thy footsteps bend, [footnote: the well-known lines on brooks himself are perhaps the perfection of this drawing-room style of humor:-- "and know, i've bought the best champagne from brooks; from liberal brooks, whose speculative skill is hasty credit, and a distant bill; who, nurs'd in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade, exults to trust, and blushes to be paid."] what gratulations thy approach attend! see gibbon rap his box-auspicious sign that classic compliment and wit combine; see beauclerk's cheek a tinge of red surprise, and friendship give what cruel health denies;-- * * * * * on that auspicious night, supremely grac'd with chosen guests, the pride of liberal taste, not in contentious heat, nor madd'ning strife, not with the busy ills, nor cares of life, we'll waste the fleeting hours--far happier themes shall claim each thought and chase ambition's dreams. each _beauty_ that _sublimity_ can boast _he_ best shall tell, who still unites them most. of wit, of taste, of fancy we'll debate, if sheridan, for once, be not too late: but scarce a thought on politics we'll spare, unless on polish politics, with hare. good-natur'd devon! oft shall then appear the cool complacence of thy friendly sneer: oft shall fitzpatrick's wit and stanhope's case and burgoyne's manly sense unite to please. and while each guest attends our varied feats of scattered covies and retreating fleets, me shall they wish some better sport to gain, and thee more glory, from the next campaign." in the society of such men the destiny of mr. sheridan could not be long in fixing. on the one side, his own keen thirst for distinction, and on the other, a quick and sanguine appreciation of the service that such talents might render in the warfare of party, could not fail to hasten the result that both desired. his first appearance before the public as a political character was in conjunction with mr. fox, at the beginning of the year , when the famous resolutions on the state of the representation, signed by mr. fox as chairman of the westminster committee, together with a report on the same subject from the sub-committee, signed by sheridan, were laid before the public. annual parliaments and universal suffrage were the professed objects of this meeting; and the first of the resolutions, subscribed by mr. fox, stated that "annual parliaments are the undoubted right of the people of england." notwithstanding this strong declaration, it may be doubted whether sheridan was, any more than mr. fox, a very sincere friend to the principle of reform; and the manner in which he masked his disinclination or indifference to it was strongly characteristic both of his humor and his tact. aware that the wild scheme of cartwright and others, which these resolutions recommended, was wholly impracticable, he always took refuge in it when pressed upon the subject, and would laughingly advise his political friends to do the same:--"whenever any one," he would say, "proposes to you a specific plan of reform, always answer that you are for nothing short of annual parliaments and universal suffrage--there you are safe." he also had evident delight, when talking on this question, in referring to a jest of burke, who said that there had arisen a new party of reformers, still more orthodox than the rest, who thought annual parliaments far from being sufficiently frequent, and who, founding themselves upon the latter words of the statute of edward iii., that "a parliament shall be holden every year once and _more often if need be_" were known by the denomination of the _oftener-if-need-bes_. "for my part," he would add, in relating this, "i am an oftener-if-need-be." even when most serious on the subject (for, to the last he professed himself a warm friend to reform) his arguments had the air of being ironical and insidious. to annual parliaments and universal suffrage, he would say, the principles of representation naturally and necessarily led,--any less extensive proposition was a base compromise and a dereliction of right; and the first encroachment on the people was the act of henry vi., which limited the power of election to forty-shilling freeholders within the county, whereas the real right was in the "outrageous and excessive" number of people by whom the preamble recites [footnote: "elections of knights of shires have now of late been made by very great outrageous and excessive number of people, dwelling within the same counties, of the which most part was people of small substance and of no value." h. . c. .] that the choice had been made of late.--such were the arguments by which he affected to support his cause, and it is not difficult to detect the eyes of the snake glistening from under them. the dissolution of parliament that took place in the autumn of this year ( ) afforded at length the opportunity to which his ambition had so eagerly looked forward. it has been said, i know not with what accuracy, that he first tried his chance of election at honiton--but stafford was the place destined to have the honor of first choosing him for its representative; and it must have been no small gratification to his independent spirit, that, unfurnished as he was with claims from past political services, he appeared in parliament, not as the nominee of any aristocratic patron, but as member for a borough, which, whatever might be its purity in other respects, at least enjoyed the freedom of choice. elected conjointly with mr. monckton, to whose interest and exertions he chiefly owed his success, he took his seat in the new parliament which met in the month of october;--and, from that moment giving himself up to the pursuit of politics, bid adieu to the worship of the dramatic muse for ever. "_comoedia luget; scena est deserta: hinc ludus risusque jocusgue et numeri innumeri simul omnes collacrumarunt._" comedy mourns--the stage neglected sleeps-- e'en mirth in tears his languid laughter steeps-- and song, through all her various empire, weeps. chapter vii. unfinished plays and poems. before i enter upon the sketch of mr. sheridan's political life, i shall take this opportunity of laying before the reader such information with respect to his unfinished literary designs, both dramatic and poetic, as the papers in my possession enable me to communicate. some of his youthful attempts in literature have already been mentioned, and there is a dramatic sketch of his, founded on the vicar of wakefield, which from a date on the manuscript ( ), appears to have been produced at a still earlier age, and when he was only in his seventeenth year. a scene of this piece will be sufficient to show how very soon his talent for lively dialogue displayed itself:-- "scene ii. "thornhill _and_ arnold. "_thornhill._ nay, prithee, jack, no more of that if you love me. what, shall i stop short with the game in full view? faith, i believe the fellow's turned puritan. what think you of turning methodist, jack? you have a tolerable good canting countenance, and, if escaped being taken up for a jesuit, you might make a fortune in moor-fields. "_arnold._ i was serious, tom. "_thorn._ splenetic you mean. come, fill your glass, and a truce to your preaching. here's a pretty fellow has let his conscience sleep for these five years, and has now plucked morality from the leaves of his grandmother's bible, beginning to declaim against what he has practised half his life-time. why, i tell you once more, my schemes are all come to perfection. i am now convinced olivia loves me--at our last conversation, she said she would rely wholly on my honor. "_arn._ and therefore you would deceive her. "_thorn._ why no--deceive her?--why--indeed--as to that--but--but, for god's sake, let me hear no more on this subject, for, 'faith, you make me sad, jack. if you continue your admonitions, i shall begin to think you have yourself an eye on the girl. you have promised me your assistance, and when you came down into the country, were as hot on the scheme as myself: but, since you have been two or three times with me at primrose's, you have fallen off strangely. no encroachments, jack, on my little rose-bud--if you have a mind to beat up game in this quarter, there's her sister--but no poaching. "_arn._ i am not insensible to her sister's merit, but have no such views as you have. however, you have promised me that if you find in this lady that real virtue which you so firmly deny to exist in the sex, you will give up the pursuit, and, foregoing the low considerations of fortune, make atonement by marriage. "_thorn._ such is my serious resolution. "_arn._ i wish you'd forego the experiment. but, you have been so much in raptures with your success, that i have, as yet, had no clear account how you came acquainted in the family. "_thorn._ oh, i'll tell you immediately. you know lady patchet? "_arn._ what, is she here? "_thorn._ it was by her i was first introduced. it seems that, last year, her ladyship's reputation began to suffer a little; so that she thought it prudent to retire for a while, till people learned better manners or got worse memories. she soon became acquainted with this little family, and, as the wife is a prodigious admirer of quality, grew in a short time to be very intimate, and imagining that she may one day make her market of the girls, has much ingratiated herself with them. she introduced me--i drank, and abused this degenerate age with the father--promised wonders to the mother for all her brats--praised her gooseberry wine, and ogled the daughters, by which means in three days i made the progress i related to you. "_arn._ you have been expeditious indeed. i fear where that devil lady patchet is concerned there can be no good--but is there not a son? "_thorn._ oh! the most ridiculous creature in nature. he has been bred in the country a bumpkin all his life, till within these six years, when he was sent to the university, but the misfortunes that have reduced his father falling out, he is returned, the most ridiculous animal you ever saw, a conceited, disputing blockhead. so there is no great matter to fear from _his_ penetration. but come, let us begone, and see this moral family, we shall meet them coming from the field, and you will see a man who was once in affluence, maintaining by hard labor a numerous family. "_arn._ oh! thornhill, can you wish to add infamy to their poverty? "[exeunt.]" there also remain among his papers three acts of a drama, without a name,--written evidently in haste, and with scarcely any correction,-- the subject of which is so wild and unmanageable, that i should not have hesitated in referring it to the same early date, had not the introduction into one of the scenes of "dry be that tear, be hush'd that sigh," proved it to have been produced after that pretty song was written. the chief personages upon whom the story turns are a band of outlaws, who, under the name and disguise of _devils_, have taken up their residence in a gloomy wood, adjoining a village, the inhabitants of which they keep in perpetual alarm by their incursions and apparitions. in the same wood resides a hermit, secretly connected with this band, who keeps secluded within his cave the beautiful reginilla, hid alike from the light of the sun and the eyes of men. she has, however, been indulged in her prison with a glimpse of a handsome young huntsman, whom she believes to be a phantom, and is encouraged in her belief by the hermit, by whose contrivance this huntsman (a prince in disguise) has been thus presented to her. the following is--as well as i can make it out from a manuscript not easily decipherable--the scene that takes place between the fair recluse and her visitant. the style, where style is attempted, shows, as the reader will perceive, a taste yet immature and unchastened:-- "_scene draws, and discovers_ reginilla _asleep in the cave. "enter_ pevidor _and other devils, with the_ huntsman--_unbind him, and exeunt._ "_hunts._ ha! where am i now? is it indeed the dread abode of guilt, or refuge of a band of thieves? it cannot be a dream (_sees_ reginilla.) ha! if this be so, and i _do_ dream, may i never wake-- it is--my beating heart acknowledges my dear, gentle reginilla. i'll not wake her, lest, if it be a phantom, it should vanish. oh, balmy breath! but for thy soft sighs that come to tell me it is no image, i should believe ... (_bends down towards her_.) a sigh from her heart!-- thus let me arrest thee on thy way. (_kisses her_.) a deeper blush has flushed her cheek--sweet modesty! that even in sleep is conscious and resentful.--she will not wake, and yet some fancy calls up those frequent sighs--how her heart beats in its ivory cage, like an imprisoned bird--or as if to reprove the hand that dares approach its sanctuary! oh, would she but wake, and bless this gloom with her bright eyes!--soft, here's a lute--perhaps her soul will hear the call of harmony. "oh yield, fair lids, the treasures of my heart, release those beams, that make this mansion bright; from her sweet sense, slumber! tho' sweet thou art, begone, and give the air she breathes in light. "or while, oh sleep, thou dost those glances hide, let rosy slumbers still around her play, sweet as the cherub innocence enjoy'd, when in thy lap, new-born, in smiles he lay. "and thou, oh dream, that com'st her sleep to cheer, oh take my shape, and play a lover's part; kiss her from me, and whisper in her ear, till her eyes shine, 'tis night within my heart. [footnote: i have taken the liberty here of supplying a few rhymes and words that are wanting in the original copy of the song. the last line of all runs thus in the manuscript:-- "till her eye shines i live in darkest night," which, not rhyming as it ought, i have ventured to alter as above.] "_reg._ (_waking_.) the phantom, father! (_seizes his hand._) ah, do not, do not wake me then. (_rises._) "_hunts._ (_kneeling to her._) thou beauteous sun of this dark world, that mak'st a place, so like the cave of death, a heaven to me, instruct me how i may approach thee--how address thee and not offend. "_reg._ oh how my soul would hang upon those lips! speak on--and yet, methinks, he should not kneel so--why are you afraid, sir? indeed, i cannot hurt you. "_hunts._ sweet innocence, i'm sure thou would'st not. "_reg._ art thou not he to whom i told my name, and didst thou not say thine was-- "_hunts._ oh blessed be the name that then thou told'st--it has been ever since my charm, and kept me from distraction. but, may i ask how such sweet excellence as thine could be hid in such a place? "_reg._ alas, i know not--for such as thou i never saw before, nor any like myself. "_hunts._ nor like thee ever shall--but would'st thou leave this place, and live with such as i am? "_reg._ why may not you live here with such as i? "_hunts._ yes--but i would carry thee where all above an azure canopy extends, at night bedropt with gems, and one more glorious lamp, that yields such bashful light as love enjoys--while underneath, a carpet shall be spread of flowers to court the pressure of thy step, with such sweet whispered invitations from the leaves of shady groves or murmuring of silver streams, that thou shalt think thou art in paradise. "_reg._ indeed! "_hunts._ ay, and i'll watch and wait on thee all day, and cull the choicest flowers, which while thou bind'st in the mysterious knot of love, i'll tune for thee no vulgar lays, or tell thee tales shall make thee weep yet please thee--while thus i press thy hand, and warm it thus with kisses. "_reg._ i doubt thee not--but then my governor has told me many a tale of faithless men who court a lady but to steal her peace and fame, and then to leave her. "_hunts._ oh never such as thou art--witness all.... "_reg._ then wherefore couldst thou not live here? for i do feel, tho' tenfold darkness did surround this spot, i could be blest, would you but stay here; and, if it made you sad to be imprison'd thus, i'd sing and play for thee, and dress thee sweetest fruits, and though you chid me, would kiss thy tear away and hide my blushing face upon thy bosom--indeed, i would. then what avails the gaudy day, and all the evil things i'm told inhabit there, to those who have within themselves all that delight and love, and heaven can give. "_hunts._ my angel, thou hast indeed the soul of love. "_reg._ it is no ill thing, is it? "_hunts._ oh most divine--it is the immediate gift of heaven, which steals into our breast ... 'tis that which makes me sigh thus, look thus--fear and tremble for thee. "_reg._ sure i should learn it too, if you would teach me. (_sound of horn without--huntsman starts._) "_reg._ you must not go--this is but a dance preparing for my amusement--oh we have, indeed, some pleasures here--come, i will sing for you the while. "_song._ "wilt thou then leave me? canst thou go from me, to woo the fair that love the gaudy day? yet, e'en among those joys, thou'lt find that she, who dwells in darkness, loves thee more than they. for these poor hands, and these unpractised eyes, and this poor heart is thine without disguise. but, if thou'lt stay with me, my only care shall be to please and make thee love to stay, with music, song, and dance * * * * * but, if you go, nor music, song, nor dance, * * * * * if thou art studious, i will read thee tales of pleasing woe-- if thou art sad, i'll kiss away the tears.... that flow. if thou would'st play, i'll kiss thee till i blush, then hide that blush upon thy breast, if thou would'st sleep.... shall rock thy aching head to rest. "_hunts._ my soul's wonder, i will never leave thee. "(_the dance.--allemande by two bears_.) "_enter_ pevidor. "_pev._ so fond, so soon! i cannot bear to see it. what ho, within (_devils enter._) secure him. (_seize and bind the huntsman._)" the duke or sovereign of the country, where these events are supposed to take place, arrives at the head of a military force, for the purpose of investing the haunted wood, and putting down, as he says, those "lawless renegades, who, in infernal masquerade, make a hell around him." he is also desirous of consulting the holy hermit of the wood, and availing himself of his pious consolations and prayers--being haunted with remorse for having criminally gained possession of the crown by contriving the shipwreck of the rightful heir, and then banishing from the court his most virtuous counsellors. in addition to these causes of disquietude, he has lately lost, in a mysterious manner, his only son, who, he supposes, has fallen a victim to these satanic outlaws, but who, on the contrary, it appears, has voluntarily become an associate of their band, and is amusing himself, heedless of his noble father's sorrow, by making love, in the disguise of a dancing bear, to a young village coquette of the name of mopsa. a short specimen of the manner in which this last farcical incident is managed, will show how wide even sheridan was, at first, of that true vein of comedy, which, on searching deeper into the mine, he so soon afterwards found:-- "scene.--_the inside of the cottage_.--mopsa, lubin _(her father), and_ colin _(her lover), discovered_. "_enter_ pevidor, _leading the bear, and singing._ "and he dances, dances, dances, and goes upright like a christian swain, and he shows you pretty fancies, nor ever tries to shake off his chain. "_lubin._ servant, master. now, mopsa, you are happy--it is, indeed, a handsome creature. what country does your bear come from? "_pev._ dis bear, please your worship, is of de race of dat bear of st. anthony, who was the first convert he made in de woods. st. anthony bade him never more meddle with man, and de bear observed de command to his dying day. "_lub._ wonderful! "_pev._ dis generation be all de same--all born widout toots. "_colin._ what, can't he bite? (_puts his finger to the bear's mouth, who bites him_.) oh lord, no toots! why you ---- "_pev._ oh dat be only his gum. (_mopsa laughs_.) "_col._ for shame, mopsa--now, i say maister lubin, mustn't she give me a kiss to make it well? "_lub._ ay, kiss her, kiss her, colin. "_col._ come, miss. (_mopsa runs to the bear, who kisses her_.)" the following scene of the devils drinking in their subterraneous dwelling, though cleverly imagined, is such as, perhaps, no cookery of style could render palatable to an english audience. "scene.--_the devils' cave_. "_ st dev._ come, urial, here's to our resurrection. "_ d dev._ it is a toast i'd scarcely pledge--by my life, i think we're happier here. "_ d dev._ why, so think i--by jove, i would despise the man, who could but wish to rise again to earth, unless we were to lord there. what! sneaking pitiful in bondage, among vile money-scrapers, treacherous friends, fawning flatterers--or, still worse, deceitful mistresses. shall we who reign lords here, again lend ourselves to swell the train of tyranny and usurpation? by my old father's memory, i'd rather be the blindest mole that ever skulked in darkness, the lord of one poor hole, where he might say, 'i'm master here.' "_ d dev._ you are too hot--where shall concord be found, if even the devils disagree?--come fill the glass, and add thy harmony--while we have wine to enlighten us, the sun be hanged! i never thought he gave so fine a light for my part--and then, there are such vile inconveniences-- high winds and storms, rains, &c.--oh hang it! living on the outside of the earth is like sleeping on deck, when one might, like us, have a snug berth in the cabin. "_ st dev._ true, true,--helial, where is thy catch? "in the earth's centre let me live, there, like a rabbit will i thrive, nor care if fools should call my life infernal; while men on earth crawl lazily about, like snails upon the surface of the nut, we are, like maggots, feasting in the kernel. "_ st dev._ bravo, by this glass. meli, what say you? "_ d dev._ come, here's to my mina--i used to toast her in the upper regions. "_ st dev._ ay, we miss them here. "_glee._ "what's a woman good for? rat me, sir, if i know. * * * * * she's a savor to the glass, an excuse to make it pass. * * * * * "_ st dev._ i fear we are like the wits above, who abuse women only because they can't get them,--and, after all, it must be owned they are a pretty kind of creatures. "_all._ yes, yes. "_catch._ "'tis woman after all is the blessing of this ball, 'tis she keeps the balance of it even. we are devils, it is true, but had we women too, our tartarus would turn to a heaven!" a scene in the third act, where these devils bring the prisoners whom they have captured to trial, is an overcharged imitation of the satire of fielding, and must have been written, i think, after a perusal of that author's satirical romance, "a journey from this world to the next,"--the first half of which contains as much genuine humor and fancy as are to be found in any other production of the kind. the interrogatories of minos in that work suggested, i suspect, the following scene:-- "_enter a number of devils.--others bring in_ ludovico. "_ st dev._ just taken, in the wood, sir, with two more. "_chorus of devils_. "welcome, welcome * * * * * "_pev._ what art thou? "_ludov._ i went for a man in the other world. "_pev._ what sort of a man? "_ludov._ a soldier at your service. "_pev._ wast thou in the battle of--? "_ludov._ truly i was. "_pev._ what was the quarrel? "_ludov._ i never had time to ask. the children of peace, who make our quarrels, must be your worship's informants there. "_pev._ and art thou not ashamed to draw the sword for thou know'st not what--and to be the victim and food of others' folly? "_ludov._ vastly. "_pev._ (_to the devils_.) well, take him for to-day, and only score his skin and pepper it with powder--then chain him to a cannon, and let the devils practise at his head--his be the reward who hits it with a single ball. "_ludov._ oh mercy, mercy! "_pev._ bring savodi. "(_a devil brings in_ savodi.) "_chorus as before_. "welcome, welcome, &c. "_pev._ who art thou? "_sav._ a courtier at your grace's service. "_pev._ your name? "_sav._ savodi, an' please your highnesses. "_pev._ your use? "_sav._ a foolish utensil of state--a clock kept in the waiting- chamber, to count the hours. "_pev._ are you not one of those who fawn and lie, and cringe like spaniels to those a little higher, and take revenge by tyranny on all beneath? "_sav._ most true, your highnesses. "_pev._ is't not thy trade to promise what thou canst not do,--to gull the credulous of money, to shut the royal door on unassuming merit --to catch the scandal for thy master's ear, and stop the people's voice.... "_sav._ exactly, an' please your highnesses' worships. "_pev._ thou dost not now deny it? "_sav._ oh no, no, no. "_pev._ here--baths of flaming sulphur!--quick--stir up the cauldron of boiling lead--this crime deserves it. "_ st dev._ great judge of this infernal place, allow him but the mercy of the court. "_sav._ oh kind devil!--yes, great judge, allow. "_ st dev._ the punishment is undergone already--truth from him is something. "_sav._ oh, most unusual--sweet devil! "_ st dev._ then, he is tender, and might not be able to endure-- "_sav._ endure! i shall be annihilated by the thoughts of it--dear devil. "_ st dev._ then let him, i beseech you, in scalding brimstone be first soaked a little, to inure and prepare him for the other. "_sav._ oh hear me, hear me. "_pev._ well, be it so. "(_devils take him out and bring in_ pamphiles.) "_pev._ this is he we rescued from the ladies--a dainty one, i warrant. "_pamphil._ (_affectedly_.) this is hell certainly by the smell. "_pev._ what, art thou a soldier too? "_pamphil._ no, on my life--a colonel, but no soldier--innocent even of a review, as i exist. "_pev._ how rose you then? come, come--the truth. "_pamphil._ nay, be not angry, sir--if i was preferred it was not my fault--upon my soul, i never did anything to incur preferment. "_pev._ indeed! what was thy employment then, friend? "_pamphil._ hunting-- "_pev._ 'tis false. "_pamphil._ hunting women's reputations. "_pev._ what, thou wert amorous? "_pamphil._ no, on my honor, sir, but vain, confounded vain--the character of bringing down my game was all i wished, and, like a true sportsman, i would have given my birds to my pointers. "_pev._ this crime is new--what shall we do with him?" &c. &c. this singular drama does not appear to have been ever finished. with respect to the winding up of the story, the hermit, we may conclude, would have turned out to be the banished counsellor, and the devils, his followers; while the young huntsman would most probably have proved to be the rightful heir of the dukedom. in a more crude and unfinished state are the fragments that remain of his projected opera of "the foresters." to this piece (which appears to have been undertaken at a later period than the preceding one) mr. sheridan often alluded in conversation--particularly when any regret was expressed at his having ceased to assist old drury with his pen,--"wait (he would say smiling) till i bring out my foresters." the plot, as far as can be judged from the few meagre scenes that exist, was intended to be an improvement upon that of the drama just described--the devils being transformed into foresters, and the action commencing, not with the loss of a son, but the recovery of a daughter, who had fallen by accident into the hands of these free-booters. at the opening of the piece the young lady has just been restored to her father by the heroic captain of the foresters, with no other loss than that of her heart, which she is suspected of having left with her preserver. the list of the dramatis personae (to which however he did not afterwards adhere) is as follows:-- old oscar. young oscar. colona. morven. harold. nico. miza. malvina. allanda. dorcas. emma. to this strange medley of nomenclature is appended a memorandum-- "_vide_ petrarch for names." the first scene represents the numerous lovers of malvina rejoicing at her return, and celebrating it by a chorus; after which oscar, her father, holds the following dialogue with one of them:-- "_osc._ i thought, son, you would have been among the first and most eager to see malvina upon her return. "_colin._ oh, father, i would give half my flock to think that my presence would be welcome to her. "_osc._ i am sure you have never seen her prefer any one else. "_col._ there's the torment of it--were i but once sure that she loved another better, i think i should be content--at least she should not know but that i was so. my love is not of that jealous sort that i should pine to see her happy with another--nay, i could even regard the man that would make her so. "_osc._ haven't you spoke with her since her return? "_col._ yes, and i think she is colder to me than ever. my professions of love used formerly to make her laugh, but now they make her weep--formerly she seemed wholly insensible; now, alas, she seems to feel--but as if addressed by the wrong person," &c. &c. in a following scene are introduced two brothers, both equally enamored of the fair malvina, yet preserving their affection unaltered towards each other. with the recollection of sheridan's own story fresh in our minds, we might suppose that he meant some reference to it in this incident, were it not for the exceeding _niaiserie_ that he has thrown into the dialogue. for instance:-- "_osc._ but we are interrupted--here are two more of her lovers-- brothers, and rivals, but friends. "_enter_ nico _and_ lubin. "so, nico--how comes it you are so late in your inquiries after your mistress? "_nico._ i should have been sooner; but lubin would stay to make himself fine--though he knows that he has no chance of appearing so to malvina. "_lubin._ no, in truth--nico says right--i have no more chance than himself. "_osc._ however, i am glad to see you reconciled, and that you live together, as brothers should do. "_nico._ yes, ever since we found your daughter cared for neither of us, we grew to care for one another. there is a fellowship in adversity that is consoling; and it is something to think that lubin is as unfortunate as myself. "_lub._ yes, we are well matched--i think malvina dislikes him, if possible, more than me, and that's a great comfort. "_nico._ we often sit together, and play such woeful tunes on our pipes, that the very sheep are moved at it. "_osc._ but why don't you rouse yourselves, and, since you can meet with no requital of your passion, return the proud maid scorn for scorn? "_nico._ oh mercy, no--we find a great comfort in our sorrow--don't we, lubin? "_lubin._ yes, if i meet no crosses, i shall be undone in another twelve-month--i let all go to wreck and ruin. "_osc._ but suppose malvina should be brought to give you encouragement. "_nico._ heaven forbid! that would spoil all. "_lubin._ truly i was almost assured within this fortnight that she was going to relax. "_nico._ ay, i shall never forget how alarmed we were at the appearance of a smile one day," &c. &c. of the poetical part of this opera, the only specimens he has left are a skeleton of a chorus, beginning "bold foresters we are," and the following song, which, for grace and tenderness, is not unworthy of the hand that produced the duenna:-- "we two, each other's only pride, each other's bliss, each other's guide, far from the world's unhallow'd noise, its coarse delights and tainted joys, through wilds will roam and deserts rude-- for, love, thy home is solitude. "there shall no vain pretender be, to court thy smile and torture me, no proud superior there be seen, but nature's voice shall hail thee, queen. "with fond respect and tender awe, i will receive thy gentle law, obey thy looks, and serve thee still, prevent thy wish, foresee thy will, and, added to a lover's care, be all that friends and parents are." but, of all mr. sheridan's unfinished designs, the comedy which he meditated on the subject of affectation is that of which the abandonment is most to be regretted. to a satirist, who would not confine his ridicule to the mere outward demonstrations of this folly, but would follow and detect it through all its windings and disguises, there could hardly perhaps be a more fertile theme. affectation, merely of _manner_, being itself a sort of acting, does not easily admit of any additional coloring on the stage, without degenerating into farce; and, accordingly, fops and fine ladies--with very few exceptions--are about as silly and tiresome in representation as in reality. but the aim of the dramatist, in this comedy, would have been far more important and extensive;--and how anxious he was to keep before his mind's eye the whole wide horizon of folly which his subject opened upon him, will appear from the following list of the various species of affectation, which i have found written by him, exactly as i give it, on the inside cover of the memorandum-book, that contains the only remaining vestiges of this play:-- "an affectation of business. of accomplishments, of love of letters and "wit music. of intrigue. of sensibility. of vivacity. of silence and importance. of modesty. of profligacy. of moroseness." in this projected comedy he does not seem to have advanced as far as even the invention of the plot or the composition of a single scene. the memorandum-book alluded to--on the first leaf of which he had written in his neatest hand (as if to encourage himself to begin) "affectation"-- contains, besides the names of three of the intended personages, sir babble bore, sir peregrine paradox, and feignwit, nothing but unembodied sketches of character, and scattered particles of wit, which seem waiting, like the imperfect forms and seeds in chaos, for the brooding of genius to nurse them into system and beauty. the reader will not, i think, be displeased at seeing some of these curious materials here. they will show that in this work, as well as in the school for scandal, he was desirous of making the vintage of his wit as rich as possible, by distilling into it every drop that the collected fruits of his thought and fancy could supply. some of the jests are far- fetched, and others, perhaps, abortive--but it is pleasant to track him in his pursuit of a point, even when he misses. the very failures of a man of real wit are often more delightful than the best successes of others--the quick-silver, even in escaping from his grasp, shines; "it still eludes him, but it glitters still." i shall give the memorandums as i find them, with no other difference, than that of classing together those that have relation to the same thought or subject. "_character_--mr. bustle. "a man who delights in hurry and interruption--will take any one's business for them--leaves word where all his plagues may follow him-- governor of all hospitals, &c.--share in ranelagh--speaker every where, from the vestry to the house of commons--'i am not at home--gad, now he heard me and i must be at home.'--'here am i so plagued, and there is nothing i love so much as retirement and quiet.'--'you never sent after me.'--let servants call in to him such a message as 'tis nothing but the window tax,' he hiding in a room that communicates.--a young man tells him some important business in the middle of fifty trivial interruptions, and the calling in of idlers; such as fidlers, wild-beast men, foreigners with recommendatory letters, &c.--answers notes on his knee, 'and so your uncle died?--for your obliging inquiries--and left you an orphan--to cards in the evening.' "can't bear to be doing nothing.--'can i do anything for any body any where?'--'have been to the secretary--written to the treasury.'--'must proceed to meet the commissioners, and write mr. price's little boy's exercise.'--the most active idler and laborious trifler. "he does not in reality love business--only the appearance of it. 'ha! ha! did my lord say that i was always very busy? what, plagued to death?' "keeps all his letters and copies--' mem. to meet the hackney-coach commissioners--to arbitrate between,' &c. &c. "contrast with the man of indolence, his brother.--'so, brother, just up! and i have been,' &c. &c.--one will give his money from indolent generosity, the other his time from restlessness--' 'twill be shorter to pay the bill than look for the receipt.'--files letters, answered and unanswered--'why, here are more unopened than answered!' * * * * * "he regulates every action by a love for fashion--will grant annuities though he doesn't want money--appear to intrigue, though constant; to drink, though sober--has some fashionable vices--affects to be distressed in his circumstances, and, when his new vis-a-vis comes out, procures a judgment to be entered against him--wants to lose, but by ill-luck wins five thousand pounds. * * * * * "one who changes sides in all arguments the moment any one agrees with him. "an irresolute arguer, to whom it is a great misfortune that there are not three sides to a question--a libertine in argument; conviction, like enjoyment, palls him, and his rakish understanding is soon satiated with truth--more capable of being faithful to a paradox--'i love truth as i do my wife; but sophistry and paradoxes are my mistresses--i have a strong domestic respect for her, but for the other the passion due to a mistress.' "one, who agrees with every one, for the pleasure of speaking their sentiments for them--so fond of talking that he does not contradict only because he can't wait to hear people out. "a tripping casuist, who veers by others' breath, and gets on to information by tacking between the two sides--like a hoy, not made to go straight before the wind. "the more he talks, the further he is off the argument, like a bowl on a wrong bias. * * * * * "what are the affectations you chiefly dislike? "there are many in this company, so i'll mention others.--to see two people affecting intrigue, having their assignations in public places only; he affecting a warm pursuit, and the lady, acting the hesitation of retreating virtue--'pray, ma'am, don't you think,' &c.--while neither party have words between 'em to conduct the preliminaries of gallantry, nor passion to pursue the object of it. "a plan of public flirtation--not to get beyond a profile. * * * * * "then i hate to see one, to whom heaven has given real beauty, settling her features at the glass of fashion, while she speaks--not thinking so much of what she says as how she looks, and more careful of the action of her lips than of what shall come from them. * * * * * "a pretty woman studying looks and endeavoring to recollect an ogle, like lady ----, who has learned to play her eyelids like venetian blinds. [footnote: this simile is repeated in various shapes through his manuscripts--"she moves her eyes up and down like venetian blinds"-- "her eyelids play like a venetian blind," &c &c.] "an old woman endeavoring to put herself back to a girl. * * * * * "a true-trained wit lays his plan like a general--foresees the circumstances of the conversation--surveys the ground and contingencies --detaches a question to draw you into the palpable ambuscade of his ready-made joke. * * * * * "a man intriguing, only for the reputation of it--to his confidential servant: 'who am i in love with now?'--'the newspapers give you so and so--you are laying close siege to lady l., in the morning post, and have succeeded with lady g. in the herald--sir f. is very jealous of you in the gazetteer.'--'remember to-morrow the first thing you do, to put me in love with mrs. c.' "'i forgot to forget the billet-doux at brooks's'--'by the bye, an't i in love with you?'--'lady l. has promised to meet me in her carriage to- morrow--where is the most public place?' "'you were rude to her!'--'oh, no, upon my soul, i made love to her directly.' "an old man, who affects intrigue, and writes his own reproaches in the morning post, trying to scandalize himself into the reputation of being young, as if he could obscure his age by blotting his character--though never so little candid as when he's abusing himself. * * * * * "'shall you be at lady ----'s? i'm told the bramin is to be there, and the new french philosopher.'--'no--it will be pleasanter at lady ----'s conversazione--the cow with two heads will be there.' * * * * * "'i shall order my valet to shoot me the very first thing he does in the morning.' "'you are yourself affected and don't know it--you would pass for morose.' "he merely wanted to be singular, and happened to find the character of moroseness unoccupied in the society he lived with. "he certainly has a great deal of fancy and a very good memory; but with a perverse ingenuity he employs these qualities as no other person does --for he employs his fancy in his narratives, and keeps his recollections for his wit--when he makes his jokes you applaud the accuracy of his memory, and 'tis only when he states his facts that you admire the flights of his imagination. [footnote: the reader will find how much this thought was improved upon afterwards.] * * * * * "a fat woman trundling into a room on castors--in sitting can only lean against her chair--rings on her fingers, and her fat arms strangled with bracelets, which belt them like corded brawn--rolling and heaving when she laughs with the rattles in her throat, and a most apoplectic ogle-- you wish to draw her out, as you would an opera-glass. * * * * * "a long lean man with all his limbs rambling--no way to reduce him to compass, unless you could double him like a pocket rule--with his arms spread, he'd lie on the bed of ware like a cross on a good friday bun-- standing still, he is a pilaster without a base--he appears rolled out or run up against a wall--so thin that his front face is but the moiety of a profile--if he stands cross-legged, he looks like a caduceus, and put him in a fencing attitude, you will take him for a piece of chevaux- de-frise--to make any use of him, it must be as a spontoon or a fishing- rod--when his wife's by, he follows like a note of admiration--see them together, one's a mast, and the other all hulk--she's a dome and he's built like a glass-house--when they part, you wonder to see the steeple separate from the chancel, and were they to embrace, he must hang round her neck like a skein of thread on a lace-maker's bolster--to sing her praise you should choose a rondeau, and to celebrate him you must write all alexandrines. "i wouldn't give a pin to make fine men in love with me--every coquette can do that, and the pain you give these creatures is very trifling. i love out-of-the-way conquests; and as i think my attractions are singular, i would draw singular objects. "the loadstone of true beauty draws the heaviest substances--not like the fat dowager, who frets herself into warmth to get the notice of a few _papier mache_ fops, as you rub dutch sealing-wax to draw paper. * * * * * "if i were inclined to flatter i would say that, as you are unlike other women, you ought not to be won as they are. every woman can be gained by time, therefore you ought to be by a sudden impulse. sighs, devotion, attention weigh with others; but they are so much your due that no one should claim merit from them.... "you should not be swayed by common motives--how heroic to form a marriage for which no human being can guess the inducement--what a glorious unaccountableness! all the world will wonder what the devil you could see in me; and, if you should doubt your singularity, i pledge myself to you that i never yet was endured by woman; so that i should owe every thing to the effect of your bounty, and not by my own superfluous deserts make it a debt, and so lessen both the obligation and my gratitude. in short, every other woman follows her inclination, but you, above all things, should take me, if you do not like me. you will, besides, have the satisfaction of knowing that we are decidedly the worst match in the kingdom--a match, too, that must be all your own work, in which fate could have no hand, and which no foresight could foresee. * * * * * "a lady who affects poetry.--'i made regular approaches to her by sonnets and rebusses--a rondeau of circumvallation--her pride sapped by an elegy, and her reserve surprised by an impromptu--proceeding to storm with pindarics, she, at last, saved the further effusion of ink by a capitulation.' * * * * * "her prudish frowns and resentful looks are as ridiculous as 'twould be to see a board with notice of spring-guns set in a highway, or of steel- traps in a common--because they imply an insinuation that there is something worth plundering where one would not, in the least, suspect it. "the expression of her face is at once a denial of all love-suit, and a confession that she never was asked--the sourness of it arises not so much from her aversion to the passion, as from her never having had an opportunity to show it.--her features are so unfortunately formed that she could never dissemble or put on sweetness enough to induce any one to give her occasion to show her bitterness.--i never saw a woman to whom you would more readily give credit for perfect chastity. "_lady clio._ 'what am i reading?'--'have i drawn nothing lately?-- is the work-bag finished?--how accomplished i am!--has the man been to untune the harpsichord?--does it look as if i had been playing on it? "'shall i be ill to-day?--shall i be nervous?'--'your la'ship was nervous yesterday.'--'was i?--then i'll have a cold--i haven't had a cold this fortnight--a cold is becoming--no--i'll not have a cough; that's fatiguing--i'll be quite well.'--'you become sickness--your la'ship always looks vastly well when you're ill.' "'leave the book half read and the rose half finished--you know i love to be caught in the fact.' * * * * * "one who knows that no credit is ever given to his assertions has the more right to contradict his words. "he goes the western circuit, to pick up small fees and impudence. * * * * * "a new wooden leg for sir charles easy. * * * * * "an ornament which proud peers wear all the year round--chimneysweepers only on the first of may. * * * * * "in marriage if you possess any thing very good, it makes you eager to get every thing else good of the same sort. * * * * * "the critic when he gets out of his carriage should always recollect, that his footman behind is gone up to judge as well as himself. * * * * * "she might have escaped in her own clothes, but i suppose she thought it more romantic to put on her brother's regimentals." the rough sketches and fragments of poems, which mr. sheridan left behind him, are numerous; but those among them that are sufficiently finished to be cited, bear the marks of having been written when he was very young, and would not much interest the reader--while of the rest it is difficult to find four consecutive lines, that have undergone enough of the _toilette_ of composition to be presentable in print. it was his usual practice, when he undertook any subject in verse, to write down his thoughts first in a sort of poetical prose,--with, here and there, a rhyme or a metrical line, as they might occur--and then, afterwards to reduce with much labor, this anomalous compound to regular poetry. the birth of his prose being, as we have already seen, so difficult, it may be imagined how painful was the travail of his verse. indeed, the number of tasks which he left unfinished are all so many proofs of that despair of perfection, which those best qualified to attain it are always most likely to feel. there are some fragments of an epilogue apparently intended to be spoken in the character of a woman of fashion, which give a lively notion of what the poem would have been, when complete. the high carriages, that had just then come into fashion, are thus adverted to:-- "my carriage stared at!--none so high or fine-- palmer's mail-coach shall be a sledge to mine. * * * * * no longer now the youths beside us stand, and talking lean, and leaning press the hand; but ogling upward, as aloft we sit, straining, poor things, their ankles and their wit, and, much too short the inside to explore, hang like supporters, half way up the door." the approach of a "veteran husband," to disturb these flirtations and chase away the lovers, is then hinted at:-- "to persecuted virtue yield assistance, and for one hour teach younger men their distance, make them, in very spite, appear discreet, and mar the public mysteries of the street." the affectation of appearing to make love, while talking on different matters, is illustrated by the following simile: "so when dramatic statesmen talk apart, with practis'd gesture and heroic start, the plot's their theme, the gaping galleries guess, while hull and fearon think of nothing less." the following lines seem to belong to the same epilogue:-- "the campus martius of st. james's street, where the beau's cavalry pace to and fro, before they take the field in rotten row; where brooks' blues and weltze's light dragoons dismount in files and ogle in platoons." he had also begun another epilogue, directed against female gamesters, of which he himself repeated a couplet or two to mr. rogers a short time before his death, and of which there remain some few scattered traces among his papers:-- "a night of fretful passion may consume all that thou hast of beauty's gentle bloom, and one distemper'd hour of sordid fear print on thy brow the wrinkles of a year. [footnote: these four lines, as i have already remarked, are taken--with little change of the words, but a total alteration of the sentiment--from the verses which he addressed to mrs. sheridan in the year . see page .] * * * * * great figure loses, little figure wins. * * * * * ungrateful blushes and disorder'd sighs, which love disclaims nor even shame supplies. * * * * * gay smiles, which once belong'd to mirth alone, and startling tears, which pity dares not own." the following stray couplet would seem to have been intended for his description of corilla:-- "a crayon cupid, redd'ning into shape, betrays her talents to design and scrape." the epilogue, which i am about to give, though apparently finished, has not, as far as i can learn, yet appeared in print, nor am i at all aware for what occasion it was intended. "in this gay month when, through the sultry hour, the vernal sun denies the wonted shower, when youthful spring usurps maturer sway, and pallid april steals the blush of may, how joys the rustic tribe, to view displayed the liberal blossom and the early shade! but ah! far other air our soil delights; _here_ 'charming weather' is the worst of blights. no genial beams rejoice our rustic train, their harvest's still the better for the rain. to summer suns our groves no tribute owe, they thrive in frost, and flourish best in snow. when other woods resound the feather'd throng, our groves, our woods, are destitute of song. the thrush, the lark, all leave our mimic vale, no more we boast our christmas nightingale; poor rossignol--the wonder of his day, sung through the winter--but is mute in may. then bashful spring, that gilds fair nature's scene, o'ercasts our lawns, and deadens every green; obscures our sky, embrowns the wooden shade, and dries the channel of each tin cascade! oh hapless we, whom such ill fate betides, hurt by the beam which cheers the world besides! who love the ling'ring frost, nice, chilling showers, while nature's _benefit_--is death to ours; who, witch-like, best in noxious mists perform, thrive in the tempest, and enjoy the storm. o hapless we--unless your generous care bids us no more lament that spring is fair, but plenteous glean from the dramatic soil, the vernal harvest of our winter's toil. for april suns to us no pleasure bring-- your presence here is all we feel of spring; may's riper beauties here no bloom display, your fostering smile alone proclaims it may." a poem upon windsor castle, half ludicrous and half solemn, appears, from the many experiments which he made upon it, to have cost him considerable trouble. the castle, he says, "its base a mountain, and itself a rock, in proud defiance of the tempests' rage, like an old gray-hair'd veteran stands each shock-- the sturdy witness of a nobler age." he then alludes to the "cockney" improvements that had lately taken place, among which the venerable castle appears, like "a helmet on a macaroni's head-- or like old talbot, turn'd into a fop, with coat embroider'd and scratch wig at top." some verses, of the same mixed character, on the short duration of life and the changes that death produces, thus begin:-- "of that same tree which gave the box, now rattling in the hand of fox, perhaps his coffin shall be made.--" he then rambles into prose, as was his custom, on a sort of knight- errantry after thoughts and images:--"the lawn thou hast chosen for thy bridal shift--thy shroud may be of the same piece. that flower thou hast bought to feed thy vanity--from the same tree thy corpse may be decked. reynolds shall, like his colors, fly; and brown, when mingled with the dust, manure the grounds he once laid out. death is life's second childhood; we return to the breast from whence we came, are weaned,...." there are a few detached lines and couplets of a poem, intended to ridicule some fair invalid, who was much given to falling in love with her physicians:-- "who felt her pulse, obtained her heart." the following couplet, in which he characterizes an amiable friend of his, dr. bain, with whom he did not become acquainted till the year , proves these fragments to have been written after that period:-- "not savage ... nor gentle bain-- she was in love with warwick lane." an "address to the prince," on the exposed style of women's dress, consists of little more than single lines, not yet wedded into couplets; such as--"the more you show, the less we wish to see."--"and bare their bodies, as they mask their minds," &c. this poem, however, must have been undertaken many years after his entrance into parliament, as the following curious political memorandum will prove:--"i like it no better for being from france--whence all ills come--altar of liberty, begrimed at once with blood and mire." there are also some anacreontics--lively, but boyish and extravagant. for instance, in expressing his love of bumpers:-- "were mine a goblet that had room for a whole vintage in its womb, i still would have the liquor swim an inch or two above the brim." the following specimen is from one of those poems, whose length and completeness prove them to have been written at a time of life when he was more easily pleased, and had not yet arrived at that state of glory and torment for the poet, when "_toujours mecontent de ce qu'il vient de faire, il plait a tout le monde et ne scaurait se plaire:_"-- "the muses call'd, the other morning, on phoebus, with a friendly warning that invocations came so fast, they must give up their trade at last, and if he meant t' assist them all, the aid of nine would be too small. me then, as clerk, the council chose, to tell this truth in humble prose.-- but phoebus, possibly intending to show what all their hopes must end in, to give the scribbling youths a sample, and frighten them by my example, bade me ascend the poet's throne, and give them verse--much like their own. "who has not heard each poet sing the powers of heliconian spring? its noble virtues we are told by all the rhyming crew of old.-- drink but a little of its well, and strait you could both write and spell, while such rhyme-giving pow'rs run through it, a quart would make an epic poet," &c. &c. a poem on the miseries of a literary drudge begins thus promisingly:-- "think ye how dear the sickly meal is bought, by him who works at verse and trades in thought?" the rest is hardly legible; but there can be little doubt that he would have done this subject justice;--for he had himself tasted of the bitterness with which the heart of a man of genius overflows, when forced by indigence to barter away (as it is here expressed) "the reversion of his thoughts," and "forestall the blighted harvest of his brain." it will be easily believed that, in looking over the remains, both dramatic and poetical, from which the foregoing specimens are taken, i have been frequently tempted to indulge in much ampler extracts. it appeared to me, however, more prudent to rest satisfied with the selections here given; for, while less would have disappointed the curiosity of the reader, more might have done injustice to the memory of the author. chapter viii. his first speeches in parliament.--rockingham administration.-- coalition.--india bill.--re-election for stafford. the period at which mr. sheridan entered upon his political career was, in every respect, remarkable. a persevering and vindictive war against america, with the folly and guilt of which the obstinacy of the court and the acquiescence of the people are equally chargeable, was fast approaching that crisis, which every unbiassed spectator of the contest had long foreseen,--and at which, however humiliating to the haughty pretensions of england, every friend to the liberties of the human race rejoiced. it was, perhaps, as difficult for this country to have been long and virulently opposed to such principles as the americans asserted in this contest, without being herself corrupted by the cause which she maintained, as it was for the french to have fought, in the same conflict, by the side of the oppressed, without catching a portion of that enthusiasm for liberty, which such an alliance was calculated to inspire. accordingly, while the voice of philosophy was heard along the neighboring shores, speaking aloud those oracular warnings, which preceded the death of the great pan of despotism, the courtiers and lawyers of england were, with an emulous spirit of servility, advising and sanctioning such strides of power, as would not have been unworthy of the most dark and slavish times. when we review, indeed, the history of the late reign, and consider how invariably the arms and councils of great britain, in her eastern wars, her conflict with america, and her efforts against revolutionary france, were directed to the establishment and perpetuation of despotic principles, it seems little less than a miracle that her own liberty should have escaped with life from the contagion. never, indeed, can she be sufficiently grateful to the few patriot spirits of this period, to whose courage and eloquence she owes the high station of freedom yet left to her;--never can her sons pay a homage too warm to the memory of such men as a chatham, a fox, and a sheridan; who, however much they may have sometimes sacrificed to false views of expediency, and, by compromise with friends and coalition with foes, too often weakened their hold upon public confidence; however the attraction of the court may have sometimes made them librate in their orbit, were yet the saving lights of liberty in those times, and alone preserved the ark of the constitution from foundering in the foul and troubled waters that encompassed it. not only were the public events, in which mr. sheridan was now called to take a part, of a nature more extraordinary and awful than had often been exhibited on the theatre of politics, but the leading actors in the scene were of that loftier order of intellect, which nature seems to keep in reserve for the ennoblement of such great occasions. two of these, mr. burke and mr. fox, were already in the full maturity of their fame and talent,--while the third, mr. pitt, was just upon the point of entering, with the most auspicious promise, into the same splendid career: "_nunc cuspide patris inclytus, herculeas olim mature sagittas._" though the administration of that day, like many other ministries of the same reign, was chosen more for the pliancy than the strength of its materials, yet lord north himself was no ordinary man, and, in times of less difficulty and under less obstinate dictation, might have ranked as a useful and most popular minister. it is true, as the defenders of his measures state, that some of the worst aggressions upon the rights of the colonies had been committed before he succeeded to power. but his readiness to follow in these rash footsteps, and to deepen every fatal impression which they had made;--his insulting reservation of the tea duty, by which he contrived to embitter the only measure of concession that was wrung from him;--the obsequiousness, with which he made himself the channel of the vindictive feelings of the court, in that memorable declaration (rendered so truly mock-heroic by the event) that "a total repeal of the port duties could not be thought of, till america was prostrate at the feet of england;"--all deeply involve him in the shame of that disastrous period, and identify his name with measures as arbitrary and headstrong, as have ever disgraced the annals of the english monarchy. the playful wit and unvarying good-humor of this nobleman formed a striking contrast to the harsh and precipitate policy, which it was his lot, during twelve stormy years, to enforce:--and, if his career was as headlong as the torrent near its fall, it may also be said to have been as shining and as smooth. these attractive qualities secured to him a considerable share of personal popularity; and, had fortune ultimately smiled on his councils, success would, as usual, have reconciled the people of england to any means, however arbitrary, by which it had been attained. but the calamities, and, at last, the hopelessness of the conflict, inclined them to moralize upon its causes and character. the hour of lord north's ascendant was now passing rapidly away, and mr. sheridan could not have joined the opposition, at a conjuncture more favorable to the excitement of his powers, or more bright in the views which it opened upon his ambition. he made his first speech in parliament on the th of november, , when a petition was presented to the house, complaining of the undue election of the sitting members (himself and mr. monckton) for stafford. it was rather lucky for him that the occasion was one in which he felt personally interested, as it took away much of that appearance of anxiety for display, which might have attended his first exhibition upon any general subject. the fame, however, which he had already acquired by his literary talents, was sufficient, even on this question, to awaken all the curiosity and expectation of his audience; and accordingly we are told in the report of his speech, that "he was heard with particular attention, the house being uncommonly still while he was speaking." the indignation, which he expressed on this occasion at the charges brought by the petition against the electors of stafford, was coolly turned into ridicule by mr. rigby, paymaster of the forces. but mr. fox, whose eloquence was always ready at the call of good nature, and, like the shield of ajax, had "ample room and verge enough," to protect not only himself but his friends, came promptly to the aid of the young orator; and, in reply to mr. rigby, observed, that "though those ministerial members, who chiefly robbed and plundered their constituents, might afterwards affect to despise them, yet gentlemen, who felt properly the nature of the trust allotted to them, would always treat them and speak of them with respect." it was on this night, as woodfall used to relate, that mr. sheridan, after he had spoken, came up to him in the gallery, and asked, with much anxiety, what he thought of his first attempt. the answer of woodfall, as he had the courage afterwards to own, was, "i am sorry to say i do not think that this is your line--you had much better have stuck to your former pursuits." on hearing which, sheridan rested his head upon his hand for a few minutes, and then vehemently exclaimed, "it is in me, however, and, by g--, it shall come out." it appears, indeed, that upon many persons besides mr. woodfall the impression produced by this first essay of his oratory was far from answerable to the expectations that had been formed. the chief defect remarked in him was a thick and indistinct mode of delivery, which, though he afterwards greatly corrected it, was never entirely removed. it is not a little amusing to find him in one of his early speeches, gravely rebuking mr. rigby and mr. courtenay [footnote: feb. .--on the second reading of the bill for the better regulation of his majesty's civil list revenue.] for the levity and raillery with which they treated the subject before the house,--thus condemning the use of that weapon in other hands, which soon after became so formidable in his own. the remarks by which mr. courtenay (a gentleman, whose lively wit found afterwards a more congenial air on the benches of the opposition) provoked the reprimand of the new senator for stafford, are too humorous to be passed over without, at least, a specimen of their spirit. in ridiculing the conduct of the opposition, he observed:-- "oh liberty! oh virtue! oh my country! had been the pathetic, though fallacious cry of former oppositions; but the present he was sure acted on purer motives. they wept over their bleeding country, he had no doubt. yet the patriot 'eye in a fine frenzy rolling' sometimes deigned to cast a wishful squint on the riches and honors enjoyed by the minister and his venal supporters. if he were not apprehensive of hazarding a ludicrous allusion, (which he knew was always improper on a serious subject) he would compare their conduct to that of the sentimental alderman in one of hogarth's prints, who, when his daughter is expiring, wears indeed a parental face of grief and solicitude, but it is to secure her diamond ring which he is drawing gently from her finger." "mr. sheridan (says the report) rose and reprehended mr. courtenay for turning every thing that passed into ridicule; for having introduced into the house a style of reasoning, in his opinion, every way unsuitable to the gravity and importance of the subjects that came under their discussion. if they would not act with dignity, he thought they might, at least, debate with decency. he would not attempt to answer mr. courtenay's arguments, for it was impossible seriously to reply to what, in every part, had an infusion of ridicule in it. two of the honorable gentlemen's similes, however, he must take notice of. the one was his having insinuated that the opposition was envious of those who basked in court sunshine; and desirous merely to get into their places. he begged leave to remind the honorable gentleman that, though the sun afforded a genial warmth, it also occasioned an intemperate heat, that tainted and infected everything it reflected on. that this excessive heat tended to corrupt as well as to cherish; to putrefy as well as to animate; to dry and soak up the wholesome juices of the body politic, and turn the whole of it into one mass of corruption. if those, therefore, who sat near him did not enjoy so genial a warmth as the honorable gentleman, and those who like him kept close to the noble lord in the blue ribbon, he was certain they breathed a purer air, an air less infected and less corrupt." this florid style, in which mr. sheridan was not very happy, he but rarely used in his speeches afterwards. the first important subject that drew forth any thing like a display of his oratory was a motion which he made on the th of march, , "for the better regulation of the police of westminster." the chief object of the motion was to expose the unconstitutional exercise of the prerogative that had been assumed, in employing the military to suppress the late riots, without waiting for the authority of the civil power. these disgraceful riots, which proved to what christianity consequences the cry of "no popery" may lead, had the effect, which follows all tumultuary movements of the people, of arming the government with new powers, and giving birth to doctrines and precedents permanently dangerous to liberty. it is a little remarkable that the policy of blending the army with the people and considering soldiers as citizens, which both montesquieu and blackstone recommend as favorable to freedom, should, as applied by lord mansfield on this occasion, be pronounced, and perhaps with more justice, hostile to it; the tendency of such a practice being, it was said, to weaken that salutary jealousy, with which the citizens of a free state should ever regard a soldier, and thus familiarize the use of this dangerous machine, in every possible service to which capricious power may apply it. the opposition did not deny that the measure of ordering out the military, and empowering their officers to act at discretion without any reference to the civil magistrate, was, however unconstitutional, not only justifiable but wise, in a moment of such danger. but the refusal of the minister to acknowledge the illegality of the proceeding by applying to the house for an act of indemnity, and the transmission of the same discretionary orders to the soldiery throughout the country, where no such imminent necessity called for it, were the points upon which the conduct of the government was strongly, and not unjustly, censured. indeed, the manifest design of the ministry, at this crisis, to avail themselves of the impression produced by the riots, as a means of extending the frontier of their power, and fortifying the doctrines by which they defended it, spread an alarm among the friends of constitutional principles, which the language of some of the advocates of the court was by no means calculated to allay. among others, a noble earl,--one of those awkward worshippers of power, who bring ridicule alike upon their idol and themselves,--had the foolish effrontery, in the house of lords, to eulogize the moderation which his majesty had displayed, in not following the recent example of the king of sweden, and employing the sword, with which the hour of difficulty had armed him, for the subversion of the constitution and the establishment of despotic power. though this was the mere ebullition of an absurd individual, yet the bubble on the surface often proves the strength of the spirit underneath, and the public were justified by a combination of circumstances, in attributing designs of the most arbitrary nature to such a court and such an administration. meetings were accordingly held in some of the principal counties, and resolutions passed, condemning the late unconstitutional employment of the military. mr. fox had adverted to it strongly at the opening of the session, and it is a proof of the estimation in which mr. sheridan already stood with his party, that he was the person selected to bring forward a motion, upon a subject in which the feelings of the public were so much interested. in the course of his speech he said:-- "if this doctrine was to be laid down, that the crown could give orders to the military to interfere, when, where, and for what length of time it pleases, then we might bid farewell to freedom. if this was the law, we should then be reduced to a military government of the very worst species, in which we should have all the evils of a despotic state, without the discipline or the security. but we were given to understand, that we had the best protection against this evil, in the virtue, the moderation, and the constitutional principles of the sovereign. no man upon earth thought with more reverence than himself of the virtues and moderation of the sovereign; but this was a species of liberty which he trusted would never disgrace an english soil. the liberty that rested on the virtuous inclinations of any one man, was but suspended despotism; the sword was not indeed upon their necks, but it hung by the small and brittle thread of human will." the following passage of this speech affords an example of that sort of antithesis of epithet, which, as has been already remarked, was one of the most favorite contrivances of his style:-- "was not the conduct of that man or men criminal, who had permitted those justices to continue in the commission? men of _tried inability_ and _convicted deficiency_! had no attempt been made to establish some more effectual system of police, in order that we might still depend upon the remedy of the bayonet, and that the military power might be called in to the aid of _contrived weakness_ and _deliberate inattention_?" one of the few instances in which he ever differed with his friend, mr. fox, occurred during this session, upon the subject of a bill which the latter introduced for the repeal of the marriage act, and which he prefaced by a speech as characteristic of the ardor, the simplicity, the benevolence and fearlessness of his disposition, as any ever pronounced by him in public. some parts, indeed, of this remarkable speech are in a strain of feeling so youthful and romantic, that they seem more fit to be addressed to one of those parliaments of love, which were held during the times of chivalry, than to a grave assembly employed about the sober realities of life, and legislating with a view to the infirmities of human nature. the hostility of mr. fox to the marriage act was hereditary, as it had been opposed with equal vehemence by his father, on its first introduction in , when a debate not less memorable took place, and when sir dudley ryder, the attorney-general of the day, did not hesitate to advance, as one of his arguments in favor of the bill, that it would tend to keep the aristocracy of the country pure, and prevent their mixture by intermarriage with the mass of the people. however this anxiety for the "streams select" of noble blood, or views, equally questionable, for the accumulation of property in great families, may have influenced many of those with whom the bill originated,--however cruel, too, and mischievous, some of its enactments may be deemed, yet the general effect which the measure was intended to produce, of diminishing as much as possible the number of imprudent marriages, by allowing the pilotage of parental authority to continue till the first quicksands of youth are passed, is, by the majority of the civilized world, acknowledged to be desirable and beneficial. mr. fox, however, thought otherwise, and though--"bowing," as he said, "to the prejudices of mankind,"--he consented to fix the age at which young people should be marriageable without the consent of parents, at sixteen years for the woman and eighteen for the man, his own opinion was decidedly for removing all restriction whatever, and for leaving the "heart of youth" which, in these cases, was "wiser than the head of age," without limit or control, to the choice which its own desires dictated. he was opposed in his arguments, not only by mr. sheridan, but by mr. burke, whose speech on this occasion was found among his manuscripts after his death, and is enriched, though short, by some of those golden sentences, which he "scattered from his urn" upon every subject that came before him. [footnote: in alluding to mr. fox's too favorable estimate of the capability of very young persons to choose for themselves, he pays the following tribute to his powers:--"he is led into it by a natural and to him inevitable and real mistake, that the ordinary race of mankind advance as fast towards maturity of judgment and understanding as he has done." his concluding words are:--"have mercy on the youth of both sexes; protect them from their ignorance and inexperience; protect one part of life by the wisdom of another; protect them by the wisdom of laws and the care of nature."] mr. sheridan, for whose opinions upon this subject the well-known history of his own marriage must have secured no ordinary degree of attention, remarked that-- "his honorable friend, who brought in the bill, appeared not to be aware that, if he carried the clause enabling girls to marry at sixteen, he would do an injury to that liberty of which he had always shown himself the friend, and promote domestic tyranny, which he could consider only as little less intolerable than public tyranny. if girls were allowed to marry at sixteen, they would, he conceived, be abridged of that happy freedom of intercourse, which modern custom had introduced between the youth of both sexes; and which was, in his opinion, the best nursery of happy marriages. guardians would, in that case, look on their wards with a jealous eye, from a fear that footmen and those about them might take advantage of their tender years and immature judgment, and persuade them into marriage, as soon as they attained the age of sixteen." it seems somewhat extraordinary that, during the very busy interval which passed between mr. sheridan's first appearance in parliament and his appointment under lord rockingham's administration in , he should so rarely have taken a part in the debates that occurred-- interesting as they were, not only from the importance of the topics discussed, but from the more than usual animation now infused into the warfare of parties, by the last desperate struggles of the ministry and the anticipated triumph of the opposition. among the subjects, upon which he appears to have been rather unaccountably silent, was the renewal of mr. burke's bill for the regulation of the civil list,--an occasion memorable as having brought forth the maiden speech of mr. pitt, and witnessed the first accents of that eloquence which was destined, ere long, to sound, like the shell of misenus, through europe, and call kings and nations to battle by its note. the debate upon the legality of petitions from delegated bodies, in which mr. dunning sustained his high and rare character of a patriot lawyer;--the bold proposal of mr. thomas pitt, that the commons should withhold the supplies, till pledges of amendment in the administration of public affairs should be given;--the bill for the exclusion of excise officers and contractors from parliament, which it was reserved for a whig administration to pass;--these and other great constitutional questions, through which mr. burke and mr. fox fought, side by side, lavishing at every step the inexhaustible ammunition of their intellect, seem to have passed away without once calling into action the powers of their new and brilliant auxiliary, sheridan. the affairs of ireland, too, had assumed at this period, under the auspices of mr. grattan and the example of america, a character of grandeur, as passing as it was bright,--but which will long be remembered with melancholy pride by her sons, and as long recall the memory of that admirable man, to whose patriotism she owed her brief day of freedom, and upon whose name that momentary sunshine of her sad history rests. an opportunity of adverting to the events, which had lately taken place in ireland, was afforded by mr. fox in a motion for the re-commitment of the mutiny bill; and on this subject, perhaps, the silence of mr. sheridan may be accounted for, from his reluctance to share the unpopularity attached by his countrymen to those high notions of the supremacy of england, which, on the great question of the independence of the irish parliament, both mr. fox and mr. burke were known to entertain. [footnote: as the few beautiful sentences spoken by burke on this occasion, in support of his friend's motion, have been somewhat strangely omitted in the professed collection of all his speeches, i shall give them here as they are reported in the parliamentary history:--"mr. burke said, so many and such great revolutions had happened of late, that he was not much surprised to hear the right hon. gentleman (mr. jenkinson) treat the loss of the supremacy of this country over ireland as a matter of very little consequence. thus, one star, and that the brightest ornament of our orrery, having been suffered to be lost, those who were accustomed to inspect and watch our political heaven ought not to wonder that it should be followed by the loss of another.-- so star would follow star, and light light, till all was darkness and eternal night."] even on the subject of the american war, which was now the important point that called forth all the resources of attack and defence on both sides, the co-operation of mr. sheridan appears to have been but rare and casual. the only occasions, indeed, connected with this topic upon which i can trace him as having spoken at any length, were the charges brought forward by mr. fox against the admiralty for their mismanagement of the naval affairs of , and the resolution of censure on his majesty's ministers moved by lord john cavendish. his remarks in the latter debate upon the two different sets of opinions, by which (as by the double soul, imagined in xenophon) the speaking and the voting of mr. rigby were actuated, are very happy:-- "the right hon. gentleman, however, had acted in this day's debate with perfect consistency. he had assured the house that he thought the noble lord ought to resign his office; and yet he would give his vote for his remaining in it. in the same manner he had long declared, that he thought the american war ought to be abandoned; yet had uniformly given his vote for its continuance. he did not mean, however, to insinuate any motives for such conduct;--he believed the right hon. gentleman to have been sincere; he believed that, as a member of parliament, as a privy councillor, as a private gentleman, he had always detested the american war as much as any man; but that he had never been able to persuade the paymaster that it was a bad war; and unfortunately, in whatever character he spoke, it was the paymaster who always voted in that house." the infrequency of mr. sheridan's exertions upon the american question combines with other circumstances to throw some doubts upon an anecdote, which has been, however, communicated to me as coming from an authority worthy in every respect of the most implicit belief. he is said to have received, towards the close of this war, a letter from one of the leading persons of the american government, expressing high admiration of his talents and political principles, and informing him that the sum of twenty thousand pounds had been deposited for him in the hands of a certain banker, as a mark of the value which the american people attached to his services in the cause of liberty. to this mr. s. returned an answer (which, as well as the letter, was seen, it is said, by the person with whom the anecdote originated) full of the most respectful gratitude for the opinion entertained of his services, but begging leave to decline a gift under such circumstances. that this would have been the nature of his answer, had any such proposal occurred, the generally high tone of his political conduct forbids us to feel any doubt,--but, with respect to the credibility of the transaction altogether, it is far less easy to believe that the americans had so much money to give, than that mr. sheridan should have been sufficiently high-minded to refuse it. not only were the occasions very few and select, on which he offered himself to the attention of the house at this period, but, whenever he did speak, it was concisely and unpretendingly, with the manner of a person who came to learn a new road to fame,--not of one who laid claim to notice upon the credit of the glory he brought with him. mr. fox used to say that he considered his conduct in this respect as a most striking proof of his sagacity and good taste;--such rare and unassuming displays of his talents being the only effectual mode he could have adopted, to win on the attention of his audience, and gradually establish himself in their favor. he had, indeed, many difficulties and disadvantages to encounter, of which his own previous reputation was not the least. not only did he risk a perilous comparison between his powers, as a speaker and his fame as a writer, but he had also to contend with that feeling of monopoly, which pervades the more worldly classes of talent, and which would lead politicians to regard as an intruder upon their craft, a man of genius thus aspiring to a station among them, without the usual qualifications of either birth or apprenticeship to entitle him to it. [footnote: there is an anecdote strongly illustrative of this observation, quoted by lord john russell in his able and lively work "on the affairs of europe from the peace of utrecht."--mr. steele (in alluding to sir thomas hanmer's opposition to the commercial treaty in ) said, "i rise to do him honor"--on which many members who had before tried to interrupt him, called out, 'taller, taller;' and as he went down the house, several said, 'it is not so easy a thing to speak in the house:' 'he fancies because he can scribble,' &c. &c.,--slight circumstances, indeed, (adds lord john,) but which show at once the indisposition of the house to the whig party, and the natural envy of mankind, long ago remarked by cicero, towards all who attempt to gain more than one kind of pre-eminence.] in an assembly, too, whose deference for rank and property is such as to render it lucky that these instruments of influence are so often united with honesty and talent, the son of an actor and proprietor of a theatre had, it must be owned, most fearful odds against him, in entering into competition with the sons of lord holland and lord chatham. with the same discretion that led him to obtrude himself but seldom on the house, he never spoke at this period but after careful and even verbal preparation. like most of our great orators at the commencement of their careers, he was in the habit of writing out his speeches before he delivered them; and, though subsequently he scribbled these preparatory sketches upon detached sheets, i find that he began by using for this purpose the same sort of copy books, which he had employed in the first rough draughts of his plays. however ill the affairs of the country were managed by lord north, in the management of parliament few ministers have been more smoothly dexterous; and through the whole course of those infatuated measures, which are now delivered over, without appeal, to the condemnation of history, he was cheered along by as full and triumphant majorities, as ever followed in the wake of ministerial power. at length, however, the spirit of the people, that last and only resource against the venality of parliaments and the obstinacy of kings, was roused from its long and dangerous sleep by the unparalleled exertions of the opposition leaders, and spoke out with a voice, always awfully intelligible, against the men and the measures that had brought england to the brink of ruin. the effect of this popular feeling soon showed itself in the upper regions. the country-gentlemen, those birds of political omen, whose migrations are so portentous of a change of weather, began to flock in numbers to the brightening quarter of opposition; and at last, lord north, after one or two signal defeats (in spite even of which the court for some time clung to him, as the only hope of its baffled, but persevering revenge), resigned the seals of office in the month of march, , and an entirely new administration was formed under the promising auspices of the marquis of rockingham. mr. sheridan, as might be expected, shared in the triumph of his party, by being appointed one of the under secretaries of state; and, no doubt, looked forward to a long and improving tenure of that footing in office which his talents had thus early procured for him. but, however prosperous on the surface the complexion of the ministry might be, its intestine state was such as did not promise a very long existence. whiggism is a sort of political protestantism, and pays a similar tax for the freedom of its creed, in the multiplicity of opinions which that very freedom engenders--while true toryism, like popery, holding her children together by the one common doctrine of the infallibility of the throne, takes care to repress any schism inconvenient to their general interest, and keeps them, at least for all intents and purposes of place-holding, unanimous. between the two branches of opposition that composed the present administration there were some very important, if not essential, differences of opinion. lord shelburne, the pupil and friend of lord chatham, held the same high but unwise opinions, with respect to the recognition of american independence, which "the swan-like end" of that great man has consecrated in our imagination, however much our reason may condemn them. "whenever" said lord shelburne, "the parliament of great britain shall acknowledge the independence of america, from that moment the sun of england is set for ever." with regard to the affairs of india, too, and the punishment of those who were accused of mismanaging them, the views of the noble lord wholly differed from those of mr. fox and his followers--as appeared from the decided part in favor of mr. hastings, which he took in the subsequent measure of the impeachment. in addition to these fertile seeds of disunion, the retention in the cabinet of a person like lord thurlow, whose views of the constitution were all through the wrong end of the telescope, and who did not even affect to conceal his hostility to the principles of his colleagues, seemed such a provision, at starting, for the embarrassment of the ministry, as gave but very little hope of its union or stability. the only speech, of which any record remains as having been delivered by mr. sheridan during his short official career, was upon a motion made by mr. eden, the late secretary for ireland, "to repeal so much of the act of george i. as asserted a right in the king and parliament of great britain to make laws to bind the kingdom of ireland." this motion was intended to perplex the new ministers, who, it was evident from the speech of mr. fox on the subject, had not yet made up their minds to that surrender of the legislative supremacy of great britain, which ireland now, with arms in her hands, demanded. [footnote: mr. fox, in his speech upon the commercial propositions of , acknowledged the reluctance that was felt at this period, in surrendering the power of external or commercial legislation over ireland:--"a power," he said, "which, in their struggles for independence, the irish had imprudently insisted on having abolished, and which he had himself given up in compliance with the strong prejudices of that nation, though with a reluctance that nothing but irresistible necessity could overcome."] mr. sheridan concurred with the honorable secretary in deprecating such a hasty and insidious agitation of the question, but at the same time expressed in a much more unhesitating manner, his opinion of that law of subjection from which ireland now rose to release herself:-- "if he declared himself (he said) so decided an enemy to the principle of the declaratory law in question, which he had always regarded as a tyrannous usurpation in this country, he yet could not but reprobate the motives which influenced the present mover for its repeal--but, if the house divided on it, he should vote with him." the general sense of the house being against the motion, it was withdrawn. but the spirit of the irish nation had advanced too far on its march to be called back even by the most friendly voice. all that now remained for the ministers was to yield, with a confiding frankness, what the rash measures of their predecessors and the weakness of england had put it out of their power with safety to refuse. this policy, so congenial to the disposition of mr. fox, was adopted. his momentary hesitation was succeeded by such a prompt and generous acquiescence in the full demands of the irish parliament, as gave all the grace of a favor to what necessity would, at all events, have extorted--and, in the spirited assertion of the rights of freemen on one side, and the cordial and entire recognition of them on the other, the names of grattan and fox, in that memorable moment, reflected a lustre on each other which associates them in its glory for ever. another occasion upon which mr. sheridan spoke while in office,--though no report of his speech has been preserved--was a motion for a committee to examine into the state of the representation, brought forward by the youthful reformer, mr. william pitt, whose zeal in the cause of freedom was at that time, perhaps, sincere, and who little dreamed of the war he was destined to wage with it afterwards. mr. fox and mr. sheridan spoke strongly in favor of the motion, while, in compliance with the request of the former, mr. burke absented himself from the discussion--giving the cause of reform, for once, a respite from the thunders of his eloquence, like the sleep of jove, in homer, which leaves the greeks for the moment masters of the field. [greek]_sphin chndos opaze, minuntha per, ophr'eati endei zeus. [footnote: "and, while the moment lasts of jove's repose, make victory theirs." cowper.] notwithstanding all this, however, the question was lost by a majority of to . immediately on his accession to office, mr. sheridan received the following letter from his brother charles francis, who had been called to the irish bar in or , but was at this time practising as a special pleader:-- "dublin, march , . "dear dick, "i am much obliged to you for your early intelligence concerning the fate of the ministry, and give you joy on the occasion, notwithstanding your sorrow for the departure of the good opposition. i understand very well what you mean by this sorrow--but as you may be now in a situation in which you may obtain some substantial advantage for yourself, for god's sake improve the opportunity to the utmost, and don't let dreams of empty fame (of which you have had enough in conscience) carry you away from your solid interests. "i return you many thanks for fox's letter. i mean for your intention to make him write one--for as your good intentions always satisfy your conscience, and that you seem to think the carrying them into execution to be a mere trifling ceremony, as well omitted as not, your friends must always take the _will_ for the _deed_. i will forgive you, however, on condition that you will for once in your life consider that though the _will_ alone may perfectly satisfy yourself, your friends would be a little more, gratified if they were sometimes to see it accompanied by the deed--and let me be the first upon whom you try the experiment if the people here are not to share the fate of their patrons, but are suffered to continue in the government of this country, i believe you will have it in your power, as i am certain it will be in your inclination, to fortify my claims upon them by recommendations from your side of the water, in such a manner as to insure to me what i have a right to expect from them, but of which i can have no certainty without that assistance. i wish the present people may continue here, because i certainly have claims upon them, and considering the footing that lord c--- and charles fox are on, a recommendation from the latter would now have every weight,--it would be drawing a bill upon government here, payable at sight, which they dare not protest. so, dear dick, i shall rely upon you that will _really_ be done: and, to confess the truth, unless it be done, and that speedily, i shall be completely ruined, for this damned annuity, payable to my uncle, plays the devil with me. if there is any intention of recalling the people here, i beg you will let me know it as soon as possible, that i may take my measures accordingly,--and i think i may rely upon you also that whoever comes over here as lord l----t, i shall not be forgot among the number of those who shall be recommended to them. "as to our politics here, i send you a newspaper,--read the resolutions of the volunteers, and you will be enabled to form some idea of the spirit which at present pervades this country. a declaration of the independency of our parliament upon yours will _certainly_ pass our house of commons immediately after the recess; government here dare not, cannot oppose it; you will see the volunteers have pledged their lives and fortunes in support of the measure. the grand juries of every county have followed their example, and some of the staunchest friends of government have been, much against their inclinations, compelled to sign the most spirited resolutions. "a call of the house is ordered for the first tuesday after the recess, and circular letters from the speaker worded in this remarkable manner, "that the members do attend on that day as _they tender the rights of ireland_." in short, nothing will satisfy the people but the most unequivocal assertion of the total independence of the irish legislature. this flame has been raised within this six weeks, and is entirely owing either to the insidious design or unpardonable inattention of the late administration, in including, or suffering to be included, the name of ireland in no less than five british statutes passed last sessions. people here were ignorant of this till grattan produced the five acts to the house of commons, one of which eden had been so imprudent as to publish in the dublin gazette. previous to this the general sense of the country was, that the mere question of right should be suffered to sleep, provided the _exercise_ of the power claimed under it should never again be resorted to in a single instance. "the sooner you repeal the th of g. i. the better; for, believe me, nothing short of that can now preserve union and cordiality between the two countries. "i hope my father and you are very good friends by this. i shall not be able to send you the remaining _l_. till october, as i have been disappointed as to the time of payment of the money i expected to receive this month. let me entreat you to write to me shortly a few words. i beg my love to mrs. s. and tom. "i am, dear dick, "your very affectionate brother, "c. f. sheridan." the expectations of the writer of this letter were not disappointed. the influence of mr. sheridan, added to his own claims, procured for him the office of secretary of war in ireland,--a situation, which the greater pliancy of his political principles contrived to render a more permanent benefit to him than any that his whig brother was ever able to secure for himself. the death of the marquis of rockingham broke up this shortlived ministry, which, during the four months of its existence, did more perhaps for the principles of the constitution, than any one administration that england had seen since the revolution. they were betrayed, it is true, into a few awkward overflowings of loyalty, which the rare access of whigs to the throne may at once account for and excuse:--and burke, in particular, has left us a specimen of his taste for extremes, in that burst of optimism with which he described the king's message, as "the best of messages to the best of people from the best of kings." but these first effects of the atmosphere of a court, upon heads unaccustomed to it, are natural and harmless--while the measures that passed during that brief interval, directed against the sources of parliamentary corruption, and confirmatory of the best principles of the constitution, must ever be remembered to the honor of the party from which they emanated. the exclusion of contractors from the house of commons--the disqualification of revenue-officers from voting at elections--the disfranchisement of corrupt voters at cricklade, by which a second precedent [footnote: the first was that of the borough of shoreham in .] was furnished towards that plan of gradual reform, which has, in our own time, been so forcibly recommended by lord john russell--the diminution of the patronage of the crown, by mr. burke's celebrated bill [footnote: this bill, though its circle of retrenchment was, as might be expected, considerably narrowed, when the treasury bench became the centre from which he described it, was yet eminently useful, as an acknowledgment from ministerial authority of the necessity of such occasional curtailments of the royal influence.]--the return to the old constitutional practice [footnote: first departed from in . see burke's powerful exposure of the mischiefs of this innovation, in his "thoughts on the causes of the present discontents."] of making the revenues of the crown pay off their own incumbrances, which salutary principle was again lost in the hands of mr. pitt--the atonement at last made to the violated rights of electors, by the rescinding of the resolutions relative to wilkes--the frank and cordial understanding entered into with ireland, which identifies the memory of mr. fox and this ministry with the only _oasis_ in the whole desert of irish history--so many and such important recognitions of the best principles of whiggism, followed up, as they were, by the resolutions of lord john cavendish at the close of the session, pledging the ministers to a perseverance in the same task of purification and retrenchment, give an aspect to this short period of the annals of the late reign, to which the eye turns for relief from the arbitrary complexion of the rest; and furnish us with, at least, _one_ consoling instance, where the principles professed by statesmen, when in opposition, were retained and sincerely acted upon by them in power. on the death of the marquis of rockingham, lord shelburne, without, as it appears, consulting any of the persons attached to that nobleman, accepted the office of first lord of the treasury; in consequence of which mr. fox, and the greater number of his friends--among whom were mr. burke and mr. sheridan--sent in their resignations; while general conway, the duke of richmond, and one or two other old allies of the party, remained in office. to a disposition so social as that of mr. fox, the frequent interruption and even loss of friendships, which he had to sustain in the course of his political career, must have been a sad alloy to its pleasure and its pride. the fable of the sheep that leaves its fleece on the bramble bush is but too apt an illustration of the fate of him, who thus sees himself stripped of the comforts of friendship by the tenacious and thorny hold of politics. on the present occasion, however, the desertion of his standard by a few who had followed him cordially in his ascent to power, but did not show the same alacrity in accompanying his voluntary fall, was amply made up to him by the ready devotion, with which the rest of the party shared his fortunes. the disinterestedness of sheridan was the more meritorious, if, as there is every reason to believe, he considered the step of resignation at such a moment to be, at least, hasty, if not wholly wrong. in this light it was, indeed, viewed by many judicious persons at the time, and the assurances given by the duke of richmond and general conway, of the continued adherence of the cabinet to the same principles and measures, to which they were pledged at the first formation of the ministry, would seem to confirm the justice of the opinion. so much temper, however, had, during the few months of their union, been fermenting between the two great masses of which the administration was composed, that it would have been difficult, if not impossible, for the rockingham party to rally, with any cordiality, round lord shelburne, as a leader--however they might still have been contented to co-operate with him, had he remained in the humble station which he himself had originally selected. that noble lord, too, who felt that the sacrifice which he had considerately made, in giving up the supremacy of station to lord rockingham, had, so far from being duly appreciated by his colleagues, been repaid only with increased alienation and distrust, could hardly be expected to make a second surrender of his advantages, in favor of persons who had, he thought, so ungraciously requited him for the first. in the mean time the court, to which the rockingham party was odious, had, with its usual policy, hollowed the ground beneath them, so as to render their footing neither agreeable nor safe. the favorite object in that quarter being to compose a ministry of those convenient ingredients, called "king's friends," lord shelburne was but made use of as a temporary instrument, to clear away, in the first plane, the chief obstacles to such an arrangement, and then, in his turn, be sacrificed himself, as soon as a more subservient system could be organized. it was, indeed, only upon a strong representation from his lordship of the impossibility of carrying on his government against such an opposition, without the infusion of fresh and popular talent, that the royal consent was obtained to the appointment of mr. pitt--the memory of whose uncompromising father, as well as the first achievements on his own youthful shield, rendered him no very promising accession to such a scheme of government, as was evidently then contemplated by the court. in this state of affairs, the resignation of mr. fox and his friends was but a prompt and spirited anticipation of what must inevitably have taken place, under circumstances much less redounding to the credit of their independence and disinterestedness. there is little doubt, indeed, that with the great majority of the nation, mr. fox by this step considerably added to his popularity--and, if we were desired to point out the meridian moment of his fame, we should fix it perhaps at this splendid epoch, before the ill-fated coalition had damped the confidence of his friends, or the ascendancy of his great rival had multiplied the number of his enemies. there is an anecdote of mr. burke, connected with this period, the credibility of which must be left to the reader's own judgment. it is said that, immediately upon the retirement of mr. fox, while lord john cavendish (whose resignation was for a short time delayed by the despatch of some official business) was still a minister, mr. burke, with a retrospect to the sweets of office which showed that he had not wholly left hope behind, endeavored to open a negotiation through the medium of lord john, for the purpose of procuring, by some arrangement, either for himself or his son, a tellership then in the possession of a relative of lord orford. it is but fair to add that this curious anecdote rests chiefly upon the authority of the latter nobleman. [footnote: unpublished papers.] the degree of faith it receives will, therefore, depend upon the balance that may be struck in our comparative estimate between the disinterestedness of burke and the veracity of lord orford. at the commencement of the following session that extraordinary coalition was declared, which had the ill-luck attributed to the conjunction of certain planets, and has shed an unfavorable influence over the political world ever since. little is, i believe, known of the private negotiations that led to this ill-assorted union of parties; but, from whichever side the first advances may have come, the affair seems to have been dispatched with the rapidity of a siamese courtship; and while to mr. eden (afterwards lord auckland) is attributed the credit of having gained lord north's consent to the union, mr. burke is generally supposed to have been the person, who sung the "hymen, oh hymenae" in the ears of mr. fox. with that sagacity, which in general directed his political views, mr. sheridan foresaw all the consequences of such a defiance of public opinion, and exerted, it is said, the whole power of his persuasion and reasoning, to turn aside his sanguine and uncalculating friend from a measure so likely to embarrass his future career. unfortunately, however, the advice was not taken,--and a person, who witnessed the close of a conversation, in which sheridan had been making a last effort to convince mr. fox of the imprudence of the step he was about to take, heard the latter, at parting, express his final resolution in the following decisive words:--"it is as fixed as the hanover succession." to the general principle of coalitions, and the expediency and even duty of forming them, in conjunctures that require and justify such a sacrifice of the distinctions of party, no objection, it appears to me, can rationally be made by those who are satisfied with the manner in which the constitution has worked, since the new modification of its machinery introduced at the revolution. the revolution itself was, indeed, brought about by a coalition, in which tories, surrendering their doctrines of submission, arrayed themselves by the side of whigs, in defence of their common liberties. another coalition, less important in its object and effects, but still attended with results most glorious to the country, was that which took place in the year , when, by a union of parties from whose dissension much mischief had flowed, the interests of both king and people were reconciled, and the good genius of england triumphed at home and abroad. on occasions like these, when the public liberty or safety is in peril, it is the duty of every honest statesman to say, with the roman, "_non me impedient privatae offensiones, quo minus pro reipublicae salute etian cum inimicissimo consentiam._" such cases, however, but rarely occur; and they have been in this respect, among others, distinguished from the ordinary occasions, on which the ambition or selfishness of politicians resorts to such unions, that the voice of the people has called aloud for them in the name of the public weal; and that the cause round which they have rallied has been sufficiently general, to merge all party titles in the one undistinguishing name of englishman. by neither of these tests can the junction between lord north and mr. fox be justified. the people at large, so far from calling for this ill- omened alliance, would on the contrary--to use the language of mr. pitt --have "forbid the banns;" and though it is unfair to suppose that the interests of the public did not enter into the calculations of the united leaders, yet, if the real watchword of their union were to be demanded of them in "the palace of truth," there can be little doubt that the answer of each would be, distinctly and unhesitatingly, "ambition." one of the most specious allegations in defence of the measure is, that the extraordinary favor which lord shelburne enjoyed at court, and the arbitrary tendencies known to prevail in that quarter, portended just then such an overflow of royal influence, as it was necessary to counteract by this double embankment of party. in the first place, however, it is by no means so certain that the noble minister at this period did actually enjoy such favor. on the contrary, there is every reason to believe that his possession of the royal confidence did not long survive that important service, to which he was made instrumental, of clearing the cabinet of the whigs; and that, like the bees of virgil, he had left the soul of his own power in the wound which he had been the means of inflicting upon that of others. in the second place, whatever might have been the designs of the court,--and of its encroaching spirit no doubt can be entertained,--lord shelburne had assuredly given no grounds for apprehending, that he would ever, like one of the chiefs of this combination against him, be brought to lend himself precipitately or mischievously to its views. though differing from mr. fox on some important points of policy, and following the example of his friend, lord chatham, in keeping himself independent of whig confederacies, he was not the less attached to the true principles of that party, and, throughout his whole political career, invariably maintained them. this argument, therefore,--the only plausible one in defence of the coalition,--fails in the two chief assumptions on which it is founded. it has been truly said of coalitions, considered abstractedly, that such a union of parties, when the public good requires it, is to be justified on the same grounds on which party itself is vindicated. but the more we feel inclined to acknowledge the utility of party, the more we must dread and deprecate any unnecessary compromise, by which a suspicion of unsoundness may be brought upon the agency of so useful a principle--the more we should discourage, as a matter of policy, any facility in surrendering those badges of opinion, on which the eyes of followers are fondly fixed, and by which their confidence and spirit are chiefly kept alive--the more, too, we must lament that a great popular leader, like mr. fox, should ever have lightly concurred in such a confusion of the boundaries of opinion, and, like that mighty river, the mississippi, whose waters lose their own color in mixing with those of the missouri, have sacrificed the distinctive hue of his own political creed, to this confluence of interests with a party so totally opposed to it. "court and country," says hume, [footnote: essay "on the parties of great britain."] "which are the genuine offspring of the british government, are a kind of mixed parties, and are influenced both by principle and by interest. the heads of the factions are commonly most governed by the latter motive; the inferior members of them by the former." whether this be altogether true or not, it will, at least, without much difficulty be conceded, that the lower we descend in the atmosphere of party, the more quick and inflammable we find the feeling that circulates through it. accordingly, actions and professions, which, in that region of indifference, high life, may be forgotten as soon as done or uttered, become recorded as pledges and standards of conduct, among the lower and more earnest adherents of the cause; and many a question, that has ceased to furnish even a jest in the drawing-rooms of the great, may be still agitated, as of vital importance, among the humbler and less initiated disputants of the party. such being the tenacious nature of partisanship, and such the watch kept upon every movement of the higher political bodies, we can well imagine what a portent it must appear to distant and unprepared observers, when the stars to which they trusted for guidance are seen to "shoot madly from their spheres," and not only lose themselves for the time in another system, but unsettle all calculations with respect to their movements for the future. the steps by which, in general, the principles in such transactions are gradually reconciled to their own inconsistency--the negotiations that precede and soften down the most salient difficulties--the value of the advantages gained, in return for opinions sacrificed--the new points of contact brought out by a change of circumstances, and the abatement or extinction of former differences, by the remission or removal of the causes that provoked them,--all these conciliatory gradations and balancing adjustments, which to those who are in the secret may account for, and more or less justify, the alliance of statesmen who differ in their general views of politics, are with difficulty, if at all, to be explained to the remote multitude of the party, whose habit it is to judge and feel in the gross, and who, as in the case of lord north and mr. fox, can see only the broad and but too intelligible fact, that the leaders for whom both parties had sacrificed so much--those on one side their interest, and those on the other, perhaps, their consciences--had deserted them to patch up a suspicious alliance with each other, the only open and visible motive to which was the spoil that it enabled them to partition between them. if, indeed, in that barter of opinions and interests, which must necessarily take place in coalitions between the partisans of the people and of the throne, the former had any thing like an equality of chance, the mere probability of gaining thus any concessions in favor of freedom might justify to sanguine minds the occasional risk of the compromise. but it is evident that the result of such bargains must generally be to the advantage of the crown--the alluvions of power all naturally tend towards that shore. besides, where there are places as well as principles to be surrendered on one side, there must in return be so much more of principles given up on the other, as will constitute an equivalent to this double sacrifice. the centre of gravity will be sure to lie in that body, which contains within it the source of emoluments and honors, and the other will be forced to revolve implicitly round it. the only occasion at this period on which mr. sheridan seems to have alluded to the coalition, was during a speech of some length on the consideration of the preliminary articles of peace. finding himself obliged to advert to the subject, he chose rather to recriminate on the opposite party for the anomaly of their own alliances, than to vindicate that which his distinguished friend had just formed, and which, in his heart, as has been already stated, he wholly disapproved. the inconsistency of the tory lord advocate (dundas) in connecting himself with the patron of equal representation, mr. pitt, and his support of that full recognition of american independence, against which, under the banners of lord north, he had so obstinately combated, afforded to sheridan's powers of raillery an opportunity of display, of which, there is no doubt, he with his accustomed felicity availed himself. the reporter of the speech, however, has, as usual, contrived, with an art near akin to that of reducing diamonds to charcoal, to turn all the brilliancy of his wit into dull and opake verbiage. it was during this same debate, that he produced that happy retort upon mr. pitt, which, for good-humored point and seasonableness, has seldom, if ever, been equalled. "mr. pitt (say the parliamentary reports) was pointedly severe on the gentlemen who had spoken against the address, and particularly on mr. sheridan. 'no man admired more than he did the abilities of that right honorable gentleman, the elegant sallies of his thought, the gay effusions of his fancy, his dramatic turns and his epigrammatic point; and if they were reserved for the proper stage, they would, no doubt, receive what the honorable gentleman's abilities always did receive, the plaudits of the audience; and it would be his fortune "_sui plausu gaudere theatri_." but this was not the proper scene for the exhibition of those elegancies.' mr. sheridan, in rising to explain, said that 'on the particular sort of personality which the right honorable gentleman had thought proper to make use of, he need not make any comment. the propriety, the taste, the gentlemanly point of it, must have been obvious to the house. but, said mr. sheridan, let me assure the right honorable gentleman, that i do now, and will at any time he chooses to repeat this sort of allusion, meet it with the most sincere good-humor. nay, i will say more--flattered and encouraged by the right honorable gentleman's panegyric on my talents, if ever i again engage in the compositions he alludes to, i maybe tempted to an act of presumption--to attempt an improvement on one of ben jonson's best characters, the character of the angry boy in the alchymist.'" mr. sheridan's connection with the stage, though one of the most permanent sources of his glory, was also a point, upon which, at the commencement of his political career, his pride was most easily awakened and alarmed. he, himself, used to tell of the frequent mortifications which he had suffered, when at school, from taunting allusions to his father's profession--being called by some of his school-fellows "the player-boy," &c. mr. pitt had therefore selected the most sensitive spot for his sarcasm; and the good temper as well as keenness, with which the thrust was returned, must have been felt even through all that pride of youth and talent, in which the new chancellor of the exchequer was then enveloped. there could hardly, indeed, have been a much greater service rendered to a person in the situation of mr. sheridan, than thus affording him an opportunity of silencing, once for all, a battery to which this weak point of his pride was exposed, and by which he might otherwise have been kept in continual alarm. this gentlemanlike retort, combined with the recollection of his duel, tended to place him for the future in perfect security against any indiscreet tamperings with his personal history. [footnote: the following _jeu d'esprit_, written by sheridan himself upon this occurrence, has been found among his manuscripts:-- "advertisement extraordinary. "we hear that, in consequence of a hint, lately given in the house of commons, the play of the alchemist is certainly to be performed by a set of gentlemen for our diversion in a private apartment of buckingham house. "the characters, thus described in the old editions of ben jonson, are to be represented in the following manner--the old practice of men's playing the female parts being adopted. "subtle (_the alchemist_) lord sh--ib--e. face (_the house-keeper_) the lord ch--ll--r. doll common (_their colleague_) the l--d adv--c--te. drugger (_a tobacco-man_) lord eff--ng--m. epicure mammon mr. r--by. tribulation dr. j--nk--s--n. ananias (_a little pastor_) mr. h--ll. kastrill (_the angry boy_) mr. w. p--tt. dame pliant gen. c--nw--y. and surly his ------"] in the administration, that was now forced upon the court by the coalition, mr. sheridan held the office of secretary of the treasury-- the other secretary being mr. richard burke, the brother of the orator. his exertions in the house, while he held this office, were chiefly confined to financial subjects, for which he, perhaps, at this time, acquired the taste, that tempted him afterwards, upon most occasions, to bring his arithmetic into the field against mr. pitt. his defence of the receipt tax,--which, like all other long-lived taxes, was born with difficulty,--appears, as far as we can judge of it from the report, to have been highly amusing. some country-gentleman having recommended a tax upon grave-stones as a substitute for it, sheridan replied that: "such a tax, indeed, was not easily evaded, and could not be deemed oppressive, as it would only be once paid; but so great was the spirit of clamor against the tax on receipts, that he should not wonder if it extended to them; and that it should be asserted, that persons having paid the last debt,--the debt of nature,--government had resolved they should pay a receipt-tax, and have it stamped over their grave. nay, with so extraordinary a degree of inveteracy were some committees in the city, and elsewhere, actuated, that if a receipt-tax of the nature in question was enacted, he should not be greatly surprised if it were soon after published, that such committees had unanimously resolved that they would never be buried, in order to avoid paying the tax; but had determined to lie above ground, or have their ashes consigned to family- urns, in the manner of the ancients." he also took an active share in the discussions relative to the restoration of powell and bembridge to their offices by mr. burke:--a transaction which, without fixing any direct stigma upon that eminent man, subjected him, at least, to the unlucky suspicion of being less scrupulous in his notions of official purity, than became the party which he espoused or the principles of reform that he inculcated. little as the court was disposed, during the late reign, to retain whigs in its service any longer than was absolutely necessary, it must be owned that neither did the latter, in general, take very courtier-like modes of continuing their connection with royalty; but rather chose to meet the hostility of the crown half-way, by some overt act of imprudence or courage, which at once brought the matter to an issue between them. of this hardihood the india bill of mr. fox was a remarkable example--and he was himself fully aware of the risk which he ran in proposing it. "he knew," he said, in his speech upon first bringing forward the question, "that the task he had that day set himself was extremely arduous and difficult; he knew that he had considerable risk in it; but when he took upon himself an office of responsibility, he had made up his mind to the situation and the danger of it." without agreeing with those who impute to mr. fox the extravagant design of investing himself, by means of this bill, with a sort of perpetual whig dictatorship, independent of the will of the crown, it must nevertheless be allowed that, together with the interests of india, which were the main object of this decisive measure, the future interests and influence of his own party were in no small degree provided for; and that a foundation was laid by it for their attainment of a more steady footing in power than, from the indisposition of the court towards them, they had yet been able to accomplish. regarding--as he well might, after so long an experience of tory misrule--a government upon whig principles as essential to the true interests of england, and hopeless of seeing the experiment at all fairly tried, as long as the political existence of the servants of the crown was left dependent upon the caprice or treachery of their master, he would naturally welcome such an accession to the influence of the party as might strengthen their claims to power when out of office, and render their possession of it, when in, more secure and useful. these objects the bill in question would have, no doubt, effected. by turning the pactolus of indian patronage into the territories of whiggism, it would have attracted new swarms of settlers to that region,--the court would have found itself outbid in the market,--and, however the principles of the party might eventually have fared, the party itself would have been so far triumphant. it was indeed, probably, the despair of ever obtaining admission for whiggism, in its unalloyed state, into the councils of the sovereign, that reconciled mr. fox to the rash step of debasing it down to the court standard by the coalition--and, having once gained possession of power by these means, he saw, in the splendid provisions of the india bill, a chance of being able to transmit it as an heir-loom to his party, which, though conscious of the hazard, he was determined to try. if his intention, therefore, was, as his enemies say, to establish a dictatorship in his own person, it was, at the worst, such a dictatorship as the romans sometimes created, for the purpose of averting the plague--and would have been directed merely against that pestilence of toryism, under which the prosperity of england had, he thought, languished so long. it was hardly, however, to be expected of royalty,--even after the double humiliation which it had suffered, in being vanquished by rebels under one branch of the coalition, and browbeaten into acknowledging their independence by the other--that it would tamely submit to such an undisguised invasion of its sanctuary; particularly when the intruders had contrived their operations so ill, as to array the people in hostility against them, as well as the throne. never was there an outcry against a ministry so general and decisive. dismissed insultingly by the king on one side, they had to encounter the indignation of the people on the other; and, though the house of commons, with a fidelity to fallen ministers sufficiently rare, stood by them for a time in a desperate struggle with their successors, the voice of the royal prerogative, like the horn of astolpho, soon scattered the whole body in consternation among their constituents, _"di qua, di la, di su, di giu,"_ and the result was a complete and long-enjoyed triumph to the throne and mr. pitt. though the name of mr. fox is indissolubly connected with this bill, and though he bore it aloft, as fondly as caesar did his own commentaries, through all this troubled sea of opposition, it is to mr. burke that the first daring outline of the plan, as well as the chief materials for filling it up, are to be attributed,--whilst to sir arthur pigot's able hand was entrusted the legal task of drawing the bill. the intense interest which burke took in the affairs of india had led him to lay in such stores of information on the subject, as naturally gave him the lead in all deliberations connected with it. his labors for the select committee, the ninth report of which is pregnant with his mighty mind, may be considered as the source and foundation of this bill--while of the under-plot, which had in view the strengthening of the whig interest, we find the germ in his "thoughts on the present discontents," where, in pointing out the advantage to england of being ruled by such a confederacy, he says, "in one of the most fortunate periods of our history, this country was governed by a connection; i mean the great connection of whigs in the reign of queen anne." burke was, indeed, at this time the actuating spirit of the party--as he must have been of any party to which he attached himself. keeping, as he did, the double engines of his genius and his industry incessantly in play over the minds of his more indolent colleagues, with an intentness of purpose that nothing could divert, and an impetuosity of temper that nothing could resist, it is not wonderful that he should have gained such an entire mastery over their wills, or that the party who obeyed him should so long have exhibited the mark of his rash spirit imprinted upon their measures. the yielding temper of mr. fox, together with his unbounded admiration of burke, led him easily, in the first instance, to acquiesce in the views of his friend, and then the ardor of his own nature, and the self-kindling power of his eloquence, threw an earnestness and fire into his public enforcement of those views, which made even himself forget that they were but adopted from another, and impressed upon his hearers the conviction that they were all, and from the first, his own. we read his speeches in defence of the india bill with a sort of breathless anxiety, which no other political discourses, except those, perhaps, of demosthenes, could produce. the importance of the stake which he risks--the boldness of his plan--the gallantry with which he flings himself into the struggle, and the frankness of personal feeling that breathes throughout--all throw around him an interest, like that which encircles a hero of romance; nor could the most candid autobiography that ever was written exhibit the whole character of the man more transparently through it. the death of this ill-fated ministry was worthy of its birth. originating in a coalition of whigs and tories, which compromised the _principles_ of freedom, it was destroyed by a coalition of king and people, which is even, perhaps, more dangerous to its _practice_. [footnote: "this assumption (says burke) of the tribunitian power by the sovereign was truly alarming. when augustus caesar modestly consented to become the tribune of the people, rome gave up into the hands of that prince the only remaining shield she had to protect her liberty. the tribunitian power in this country, as in ancient rome, was wisely kept distinct and separate from the executive power; in this government it was constitutionally lodged where it was naturally to be lodged, in the house of commons; and to that house the people ought first to carry their complaints, even when they were directed against the measures of the house itself. but now the people were taught to pass by the door of the house of commons and supplicate the throne for the protection of their liberties."--_speech on moving his representation to the king, in june_, .] the conduct, indeed, of all estates and parties, during this short interval, was any thing but laudable. the leaven of the unlucky alliance with lord north was but too visible in many of the measures of the ministry--in the jobbing terms of the loan, the resistance to mr. pitt's plan of retrenchment, and the diminished numbers on the side of parliamentary reform. [footnote: the consequences of this alloy were still more visible in ireland. "the coalition ministry," says mr. hardy, "displayed itself in various employments--but there was no harmony. the old courtiers hated the new, and being more dexterous, were more successful." in stating that lord charlemont was but coldly received by the lord lieutenant, lord northington, mr. hardy adds, "it is to be presumed that some of the old court, who in consequence of the coalition had crept once more into favor, influenced his conduct in this particular."] on the other hand, mr. pitt and his party, in their eagerness for place, did not hesitate to avail themselves of the ambidexterous and unworthy trick of representing the india bill to the people, as a tory plan for the increase of royal influence, and to the king, as a whig conspiracy for the curtailment of it. the king himself, in his arbitrary interference with the deliberations of the lords, and the lords, in the prompt servility with which so many of them obeyed his bidding, gave specimens of their respective branches of the constitution, by no means creditable--while finally the people, by the unanimous outcry with which they rose, in defence of the monopoly of leadenhall street and the sovereign will of the court, proved how little of the "_vox dei_" there may sometimes be in such clamor. mr. sheridan seems to have spoken but once during the discussions on the india bill, and that was on the third reading, when it was carried so triumphantly through the house of commons. the report of his speech is introduced with the usual tantalizing epithets, "witty," "entertaining," &c. &c.; but, as usual, entails disappointment in the perusal--"_at cum intraveris, dii deceque, quam nihil in medio invenies!_" [footnote: pliny] there is only one of the announced pleasantries forthcoming, in any shape, through the speech. mr. scott (the present lord eldon) had, in the course of the debate, indulged in a license of scriptural parody, which he would himself, no doubt, be among the first to stigmatize as blasphemy in others, and had affected to discover the rudiments of the india bill in a chapter of the book of revelations,-- babylon being the east india company, mr. fox and his seven commissioners the beast with the seven heads, and the marks on the hand and forehead, imprinted by the beast upon those around him, meaning, evidently, he said, the peerages, pensions, and places distributed by the minister. in answering this strange sally of forensic wit, mr. sheridan quoted other passages from the same sacred book, which (as the reporter gravely assures us) "told strongly for the bill," and which proved that lord fitz-william and his fellow-commissioners, instead of being the seven heads of the beast, were seven angels "clothed in pure and white linen!" chapter ix. the prince of wales.--financial measures.--mr. pitt's east india bill.-- irish commercial propositions.--plan of the duke of richmond.--sinking fund. the whigs, who had now every reason to be convinced of the aversion with which they were regarded at court, had lately been, in some degree, compensated for this misfortune by the accession to their party of the heir apparent, who had, since the year , been in the enjoyment of a separate establishment, and taken his seat in the house of peers as duke of cornwall. that a young prince, fond of pleasure and impatient of restraint, should have thrown himself into the arms of those who were most likely to be indulgent to his errors, is nothing surprising, either in politics or ethics. but that mature and enlightened statesmen, with the lessons of all history before their eyes, should have been equally ready to embrace such a rash alliance, or should count upon it as any more than a temporary instrument of faction, is, to say the least of it, one of those self-delusions of the wise, which show how vainly the voice of the past may speak amid the loud appeals and temptations of the present. the last prince of wales, it is true, by whom the popular cause was espoused, had left the lesson imperfect, by dying before he came to the throne. but this deficiency has since been amply made up; and future whigs, who may be placed in similar circumstances, will have, at least, one historical warning before their eyes, which ought to be enough to satisfy the most unreflecting and credulous. in some points, the breach that now took place between the prince and the king, bore a close resemblance to that which had disturbed the preceding reign. in both cases, the royal parents were harsh and obstinate--in both cases, money was the chief source of dissension--and, in both cases, the genius, wit, and accomplishments of those with whom the heir apparent connected himself, threw a splendor round the political bond between them, which prevented even themselves from perceiving its looseness and fragility. in the late question of mr. fox's india bill, the prince of wales had voted with his political friends in the first division. but, upon finding afterwards that the king was hostile to the measure, his royal highness took the prudent step (and with mr. fox's full concurrence) of absenting himself entirely from the second discussion, when the bill, as it is known, was finally defeated. this circumstance, occurring thus early in their intercourse, might have proved to each of the parties in this ill-sorted alliance, how difficult it was for them to remain long and creditably united. [footnote: the following sensible remarks upon the first interruption of the political connection between the heir apparent and the opposition, are from an unfinished life of mr. sheridan now in my possession--written by one whose boyhood was passed in the society of the great men whom he undertook to commemorate, and whose station and talents would have given to such a work an authenticity and value, that would have rendered the humble memorial, which i have attempted, unnecessary-- "his royal highness acted upon this occasion by mr. fox's advice and with perfect propriety. at the same time the necessity under which he found himself of so acting may serve as a general warning to princes of the blood in this country, to abstain from connecting themselves with party, and engaging either as active supporters or opponents of the administration of the day. the ties of family, the obligations of their situation, the feelings of the public assuredly will condemn them, at some time or other, as in the present instance to desert their own public acts, to fail in their private professions, and to leave their friends at the very moment, in which service and support are the most imperiously required. "princes are always suspected proselytes to the popular side. conscious of this suspicion, they strive to do it away by exaggerated professions, and by bringing to the party which they espouse more violent opinions and more unmeasured language than any which they find. these mighty promises they soon find it unreasonable, impossible, inconvenient to fulfil. their dereliction of their principles becomes manifest and indefensible, in proportion to the vehemence with which they have pledged themselves always to maintain them, and the contempt and indignation which accompanies their retreat is equivalent to the expectations excited by the boldness and determination of their advance."] on the one side, there was a character to be maintained with the people, which a too complaisant toleration of the errors of royalty might--and, as it happened, _did_ compromise; while, on the other side, there were the obligations of filial duty, which, as in this instance of the india bill, made desertion decorous, at a time when co- operation would have been most friendly and desirable. there was also the perpetual consciousness of being destined to a higher station, in which, while duty would perhaps demand an independence of all party whatever, convenience would certainly dictate a release from the restraints of whiggism. it was most fortunate for mr. sheridan, on the rout of his party that ensued, to find himself safe in his seat for stafford once more, and the following document, connected with his election, is sufficiently curious, in more respects than one, to be laid before the reader: _r. b. sheridan, esq. expenses at the borough of stafford for election, anno_ . burgesses, paid l each................l , yearly expenses since. l s. d. house-rent and taxes ....... servant at s. per week, ... board wages ditto, yearly wages ........ coals, &c. ................. ale tickets ................ half the members' plate .... swearing young burgesses ... subscription to the ........ infirmary ditto clergymen's widows ... ringers .................... --------- ---------- one year ............ multiplied by years . ---------- total expense of six years' parliament, exclusive of expense incurred during the time of election, and your own annual expenses.......................... l , the followers of the coalition had been defeated in almost all directions, and it was computed that no less than of them had been left upon the field,--with no other consolation than what their own wit afforded them, in the title which they bestowed upon themselves of "fox's martyrs." this reduction in the ranks of his enemies, at the very commencement of his career, left an open space for the youthful minister, which was most favorable to the free display of his energies. he had, indeed, been indebted, throughout the whole struggle, full as much to a lucky concurrence of circumstances as to his talents and name for the supremacy to which he so rapidly rose. all the other eminent persons of the day had either deeply entangled themselves in party ties, or taken the gloss off their reputations by some unsuccessful or unpopular measures; and as he was the only man independent enough of the house of commons to be employed by the king as a weapon against it, so was he the only one sufficiently untried in public life, to be able to draw unlimitedly on the confidence of the people, and array them, as he did, in all the enthusiasm of ignorance, on his side. without these two advantages, which he owed to his youth and inexperience, even loftier talents than his would have fallen far short of his triumph. the financial affairs of the country, which the war had considerably deranged, and which none of the ministries that ensued felt sure enough of themselves to attend to, were, of course, among the first and most anxious objects of his administration; and the wisdom of the measures which he brought forward for their amelioration was not only candidly acknowledged by his opponents at the time, but forms at present the least disputable ground, upon which his claim to reputation as a finance-minister rests. having found, on his accession to power, an annual deficiency of several millions in the revenue, he, in the course of two years, raised the income of the country so high as to afford a surplus for the establishment of his sinking fund. nor did his merit lie only in the mere increase of income, but in the generally sound principles of the taxation by which he accomplished it, in the improvements introduced into the collection of the revenue, and the reform effected in the offices connected with it, by the simplification of the mode of keeping public accounts. though mr. sheridan delivered his opinion upon many of the taxes proposed, his objections were rather to the details than the general object of the measures; and it may be reckoned, indeed, a part of the good fortune of the minister, that the financial department of opposition at this time was not assumed by any more adventurous calculator, who might have perplexed him, at least by ingenious cavils, however he might have failed to defeat him by argument. as it was, he had the field almost entirely to himself; for sheridan, though acute, was not industrious enough to be formidable, and mr. fox, from a struggle, perhaps, between candor and party-feeling, absented himself almost entirely from the discussion of the new taxes. [footnote: "he had absented himself," he said, "upon principle; that, though he might not be able to approve of the measures which had been adopted, he did not at the same time think himself authorized to condemn them, or to give them opposition, unless he had been ready to suggest others less distressing to the subject."--_speech on navy bills, &c. &c._] the only questions, in which the angry spirit of the late conflict still survived, were the westminster scrutiny and mr. pitt's east india bill. the conduct of the minister in the former transaction showed that his victory had not brought with it those generous feelings towards the vanquished, which, in the higher order of minds, follows as naturally as the calm after a tempest. there must, indeed, have been something peculiarly harsh and unjust in the proceedings against his great rival on this occasion, which could induce so many of the friends of the minister--then in the fulness of his popularity and power--to leave him in a minority and vote against the continuance of the scrutiny. to this persecution, however, we are indebted for a speech of mr. fox, which is (as he, himself, in his opening, pronounced it would be) one of his best and noblest; and which is reported, too, with such evident fidelity, as well as spirit, that we seem to hear, while we read, the _"demosthenem ipsum"_ uttering it. sheridan had, it appears, written a letter, about this time, to his brother charles, in which, after expressing the feelings of himself and his brother whigs, at the late unconstitutional victory over their party, he added, "but you are all so void of principle, in ireland, that you cannot enter into our situation." charles sheridan, who, in the late changes, had not thought it necessary to pay his principles the compliment of sacrificing his place to them, considered himself, of course, as included in this stigma; and the defence of time-serving politics which he has set up in his answer, if not so eloquent as that of the great roman man master of this art in his letter to lentulus, is, at least, as self-conscious and labored, and betrays altogether a feeling but too worthy of the political meridian from which it issued. "dublin castle, th march, . "my dear dick, "i am much obliged to you for the letter you sent me by orde; i began to think you had forgot i was in existence, but i forgive your past silence on account of your recent kind attention. the new irish administration have come with the olive branch in their hand, and very wisely, i think; the system, the circumstances, and the manners of the two countries are so totally different, that i can assure you nothing could be so absurd as any attempt to extend the party-distinctions which prevail on your side of the water, to this. nothing, i will venture to assert, can possibly preserve the connection between england and ireland, but a permanent government here, acting upon fixed principles, and pursuing systematic measures. for this reason a change of chief governor, ought to be nothing more than a simple transfer of government, and by no means to make any change in that political system respecting this country which england must adopt, let who will be the minister and whichever party may acquire the ascendancy, if she means to preserve ireland as a part of the british empire. "you will say this is a very good plan for people in place, as it tends to secure them against all contingencies, but this, i give you my word, is not my reason for thinking as i do. i must, in the first place, acquaint you that there never can be hereafter in this country any such thing as party connections founded upon political principles; we have obtained all the great objects for which ireland had contended for many years, and there does not now remain one national object of sufficient importance to unite men in the same pursuit. nothing but such objects ever did unite men in this kingdom, and that not from principle, but because the spirit of the people was so far roused with respect to points in which the pride, the interest, the commerce, and the prosperity of the nation at large was so materially concerned, that the house of commons, if they had not the virtue to forward, at least wanted the courage to oppose, the general and determined wish of the whole kingdom; they therefore made a virtue of necessity, joined the standard of a very small popular party; both _ins_ and _outs_ voted equally against government, the latter of course, and the former because each individual thought himself safe in the number who followed his example. "this is the only instance, i believe, in the history of irish politics, where a party ever appeared to act upon public principle, and as the cause of this singular instance has been removed by the attainment of the only objects which could have united men in one pursuit, it is not probable that we shall in future furnish any other example that will do honor to our public spirit. if you reflect an instant, you will perceive that our subordinate situation necessarily prevents the formation of any party among us, like those you have in england, composed of persons acting upon certain principles, and pledged to support each other. i am willing to allow you that your exertions are directed by public spirit; but if those exertions did not lead to _power_, you must acknowledge that it is probable they would not be made, or, if made, that they would not be of much use. the object of a party in england is either to obtain power for themselves, or to take it from those who are in possession of it--they may do this from the purest motives, and with the truest regard for the public good, but still you must allow that power is a very tempting object, the hopes of obtaining it no small incentive to their exertions, and the consequences of success to the individuals of which the party is composed, no small strengthening to the bands which unite them together. now, if you were to expect similar parties to be formed in ireland, you would exact of us more virtue than is necessary for yourselves. from the peculiar situation of this country it is impossible that the exertions of any party here can ever lead to _power_. here then is one very tempting object placed out of our reach, and, with it, all those looked-for consequences to individuals, which, with you, induce them to pledge themselves to each other; so that nothing but poor public spirit would be left to keep our irish party together, and consequently a greater degree of disinterestedness would be necessary in them, than is requisite in one of your english parties. "that no party exertion here can ever lead to power is obvious when you reflect, that we have in fact no _irish government_; all power here being lodged in a branch of the _english_ government, we have no cabinet, no administration of our own, no great offices of state, every office we have is merely ministerial, it confers no power but that of giving advice, which may or may not be followed by the chief governor. as all power, therefore, is lodged solely in the english government, of which the irish is only a branch, it necessarily follows that no exertion of any party here could ever lead to power, unless they overturned the english government in this country, or unless the efforts of such a party in the irish house of commons could overturn the british administration in england, and the leaders of it get into their places; --the first, you will allow, would not be a very wise object, and the latter you must acknowledge to be impossible. "upon the same principle, it would be found very difficult to form a party in this country which should co-operate with any particular party in england, and consent to stand or fall with them. the great leading interests in this kingdom are of course strongly averse to forming any such connections on your side of the water, as it would tend to create a fluctuation in the affairs of this country, that would destroy all their consequence; and, as to the personal friends which a party in england may possibly have in this country, they must in the nature of things be few in number, and consequently could only injure themselves by following the fortunes of a party in england, without being able to render that party the smallest service. and, at all events, to such persons this could be nothing but a losing game. it would be, to refuse to avail themselves of their connections or talents in order to obtain office or honors, and to rest all their pretensions upon the success of a party in another kingdom, to which success they could not in the smallest degree contribute. you will admit that to a party in england, no friends on this side of the water would be worth having who did not possess connections or talents; and if they did possess these, they must of course force themselves into station, let the government of this country be in whose hands it may, and that upon a much more permanent footing than if they were connected with a party in england. what therefore could they gain by such a connection? nothing but the virtue of self-denial, in continuing out of office as long as their friends were so, the chance of coming in when their friends obtained power, and only the chance, for there are interests in this country which must not be offended; and the certainty of going out whenever their friends in england should be dismissed. so that they would exchange the certainty of station upon a permanent footing acquired by their own efforts, connections or talents, for the chance of station upon a most precarious footing, in which they would be placed in the insignificant predicament of doing nothing for themselves, and resting their hopes and ambition upon the labors of others. "in addition to what i have said respecting the consequences of the subordinate situation of this country, you are to take into consideration how peculiarly its inhabitants are circumstanced. two out of three millions are roman catholics--i believe the proportion is still larger--and two-thirds of the remainder are violent rank presbyterians, who have always been, but most particularly of late, strongly averse to all government placed in the hands of the members of the church of england; nine-tenths of the property, the landed property of the country i mean, is in the possession of the latter. you will readily conceive how much these circumstances must give persons of property in this kingdom a leaning towards government; how necessarily they must make them apprehensive for themselves, placed between such potent enemies; and how naturally it must make them look up to english government, in whatever hands it may be, for that strength and support, which the smallness of their numbers prevents their finding among themselves; and consequently you will equally perceive that those political or party principles which create such serious differences among you in england, are matters of small importance to the persons of landed property in this country, when compared with the necessity of their having the constant support of an english government. here, my dear dick, is a very long answer to a very few lines in your postscript. but i could not avoid _boring_ you on the subject, when you say 'that we are all so void of principle that we cannot enter into your situation.' "i have received with the greatest pleasure the accounts of the very considerable figure you have made this sessions in the house of commons. as i have no doubt but that your parliament will be dissolved, god send you success a second time at stafford, and the same to your friend at westminster. i will not forgive you if you do not give me the first intelligence of both those events. i shall say nothing to you on the subject of your english politics, only that i feel myself much more partial to one side of the question than, in my present situation, it would be of any use to me to avow. i am the happiest domestic man in the world, and am in daily expectation of an addition to that happiness, and own that a home, which i never leave without regret, nor return to without delight, has somewhat abated my passion for politics, and that warmth i once felt about public questions. but it has not abated the warmth of my private friendships; it has not abated my regard for fitzpatrick, my anxiety for you, and the warmth of my wishes for the success of your friends, considering them as such. i beg my love to mrs. sheridan and tom, and am, dear dick, "most affectionately yours, c. f. sheridan." with respect to the bill for the better government of india, which mr. pitt substituted for that of his defeated rival, its provisions are now, from long experience, so familiarly known, that it would be superfluous to dwell upon either their merits or defects. [footnote: three of the principal provisions were copied from the propositions of lord north in --in allusion to which mr. powys said of the measure, that "it was the voice of jacob, but the hand of esau."] the two important points in which it differed from the measure of mr. fox were, in leaving the management of their commercial concerns still in the hands of the company, and in making the crown the virtual depositary of indian patronage, [footnote: "mr. pitt's bill continues the form of the company's government, and professes to leave the patronage under certain conditions, and the commerce without condition, in the hands of the company; but places all matters relating to the _civil_ and _military_ government and _revenues_ in the hands of six commissioners, to be nominated and appointed by his majesty, under the title of 'commissioners of the affairs of india,' which board of commissioners is invested with the 'superintendence and control over all the british territorial possessions in the east indies, and over the affairs of the united company of merchants trading thereto.'"-- comparative statement of the two bills, read from his place by mr. sheridan, on the discussion of the declaratory acts in , and afterwards published. in another part of this statement he says, "the present board of control have, under mr. pitt's bill, usurped those very imperial prerogatives from the crown, which were falsely said to have been given to the new board of directors under mr. fox's bill."] instead of suffering it to be diverted into the channels of the whig interest,--never, perhaps, to find its way back again. in which of these directions such an accession of power might, with least mischief to the constitution, be bestowed, having the experience only of the use made of it on one side, we cannot, with any certainty, pretend to determine. one obvious result of this transfer of india to the crown has been that smoothness so remarkable in the movements of the system ever since--that easy and noiseless play of its machinery, which the lubricating contact of influence alone could give, and which was wholly unknown in indian policy, till brought thus by mr. pitt under ministerial control. when we consider the stormy course of eastern politics before that period--the inquiries, the exposures, the arraignments that took place--the constant hunt after indian delinquency, in which ministers joined no less keenly than the opposition--and then compare all this with the tranquillity that has reigned, since the halcyon incubation of the board of control over the waters,--though we may allow the full share that actual reform and a better system of government may claim in this change, there is still but too much of it to be attributed to causes of a less elevated nature,--to the natural abatement of the watchfulness of the minister, over affairs no longer in the hands of others, and to that power of influence, which, both at home and abroad, is the great and ensuring bond of tranquillity, and, like the chain of silence, mentioned in old irish poetry, binds all that come within its reach in the same hushing spell of compromise and repose. it was about this time that, in the course of an altercation with mr. rolle, the member for devonshire, mr. sheridan took the opportunity of disavowing any share in the political satires then circulating, under the titles of "the rolliad" and the "probationary odes." "he was aware," he said, "that the honorable gentlemen had suspected that he was either the author of those compositions, or some way or other concerned in them; but he assured them, upon his honor, he was not--nor had he ever seen a line of them till they were in print in the newspaper." mr. rolle, the hero of the rolliad, was one of those unlucky persons, whose destiny it is to be immortalized by ridicule, and to whom the world owes the same sort of gratitude for the wit of which they were the butts, as the merchants did, in sinbad's story, to those pieces of meat to which diamonds adhered. the chief offence, besides his political obnoxiousness, by which he provoked this satirical warfare, (whose plan of attack was all arranged at a club held at becket's,) was the lead which he took in a sort of conspiracy, formed on the ministerial benches, to interrupt, by coughing, hawking, and other unseemly noises, the speeches of mr. burke. the chief writers of these lively productions were tickell, general fitzpatrick, [footnote: to general fitzpatrick some of the happiest pleasantries are to be attributed; among others, the verses on brooke watson, those on the marquis of graham, and "the liars."] lord john [footnote: lord john townshend, the only survivor, at present, of this confederacy of wits, was the author, in conjunction with tickell, of the admirable satire, entitled "jekyll,"--tickell having contributed only the lines parodied from pope. to the exquisite humor of lord john we owe also the probationary ode for major scott, and the playful parody on _"donae gratus eram libi."_] townshend, richardson, george ellis, and dr. lawrence. [footnote: by doctor lawrence the somewhat ponderous irony of the prosaic department was chiefly managed. in allusion to the personal appearance of this eminent civilian, one of the wits of the day thus parodied a passage of virgil: _"quo tetrior alter non fuit, excepto_ laurentis _corpore turni."_] there were also a few minor contributions from the pens of bate dudley, mr. o'beirne (afterwards bishop of meath), and sheridan's friend, read. in two of the writers, mr. ellis and dr. lawrence, we have a proof of the changeful nature of those atoms, whose concourse for the time constitutes party, and of the volatility with which, like the motes in the sunbeam, described by lucretius, they can _"commutare viam, retroque repulsa reverti nunc huc, nunc illuc, in cunctas denique partes."_ change their light course, as fickle chance may guide, now here, now there, and shoot from side to side. dr. lawrence was afterwards a violent supporter of mr. pitt, and mr. ellis [footnote: it is related that, on one occasion, when mr. ellis was dining with mr. pitt, and embarrassed naturally by the recollection of what he had been guilty of towards his host in the rolliad, some of his brother-wits, to amuse themselves at his expense, endeavored to lead the conversation to the subject of this work, by asking him various questions, as to its authors, &c.,--which mr. pitt overhearing, from the upper end of the table, leaned kindly towards ellis and said, _"immo age, et a prima, dic, hospes, originc nobis."_ the word "hospes," applied to the new convert, was happy, and the "_erroresque tuos_," that follows, was, perhaps, left to be implied.] showed the versatility of his wit, as well as of his politics, by becoming one of the most brilliant contributors to the antijacobin. the rolliad and the antijacobin may, on their respective sides of the question, be considered as models of that style of political satire, [footnote: the following just observations upon the rolliad and probationary odes occur in the manuscript life of sheridan which i have already cited:--"they are, in most instances, specimens of the powers of men, who, giving themselves up to ease and pleasure, neither improved their minds with great industry, nor exerted them with much activity; and have therefore left no very considerable nor durable memorials of the happy and vigorous abilities with which nature had certainly endowed them. the effusions themselves are full of fortunate allusions, ludicrous terms, artful panegyric, and well-aimed satire. the verses are at times far superior to the occasion, and the whole is distinguished by a taste, both in language and matter, perfectly pure and classical; but they are mere occasional productions. they will sleep with the papers of the craftsman, so vaunted, in their own time, but which are never now raked up, except by the curiosity of the historian and the man of literature. "wit, being generally founded upon the manners and characters of its own day, is crowned in that day, beyond all other exertions of the mind, with splendid and immediate success. but there is always something that equalizes. in return, more than any other production, it suffers suddenly and irretrievably from the hand of time. it receives a character the most opposite to its own. from being the most generally understood and perceived, it becomes of all writing the most difficult and the most obscure. satires, whose meaning was open to the multitude, defy the erudition of the scholar, and comedies, of which every line was felt as soon as it was spoken, require the labor of an antiquary to explain them."] whose lightness and vivacity give it the appearance of proceeding rather from the wantonness of wit than of ill-nature, and whose very malice, from the fancy with which it is mixed up, like certain kinds of fireworks, explodes in sparkles. they, however, who are most inclined to forgive, in consideration of its polish and playfulness, the personality in which the writers of both these works indulged, will also readily admit that by no less shining powers can a license so questionable be either assumed or palliated, and that nothing but the lively effervescence of the draught can make us forget the bitterness infused into it. at no time was this truth ever more strikingly exemplified than at present, when a separation seems to have taken place between satire and wit, which leaves the former like the toad, _without_ the "jewel in its head;" and when the hands, into which the weapon of personality has chiefly fallen, have brought upon it a stain and disrepute, that will long keep such writers as those of the rolliad and antijacobin from touching it again. among other important questions, that occupied the attention of mr. sheridan at this period, was the measure brought forward under the title of "irish commercial propositions" for the purpose of regulating and finally adjusting the commercial intercourse between england and ireland. the line taken by him and mr. fox in their opposition to this plan was such as to accord, at once with the prejudices of the english manufacturers and the feelings of the irish patriots,--the former regarding the measure as fatal to their interests, and the latter rejecting with indignation the boon which it offered, as coupled with a condition for the surrender of the legislative independence of their country. in correct views of political economy, the advantage throughout this discussion was wholly on the side of the minister; and, in a speech of mr. jenkinson, we find (advanced, indeed, but incidentally, and treated by mr. fox as no more than amusing theories,) some of those liberal principles of trade which have since been more fully developed, and by which the views of all practical statesmen are, at the present day, directed. the little interest attached by mr. fox to the science of political economy--so remarkably proved by the fact of his never having read the work of adam smith on the subject--is, in some degree, accounted for by the skepticism of the following passage, which occurs in one of his animated speeches on this very question. mr. pitt having asserted, in answer to those who feared the competition of ireland in the market from her low prices of labor, that "great capital would in all cases overbalance cheapness of labor," mr. fox questions the abstract truth of this position, and adds,--"general positions of all kinds ought to be very cautiously admitted; indeed, on subjects so infinitely complex and mutable as politics and commerce, a wise man hesitates at giving too implicit a credit to any general maxim of any denomination." if the surrender of any part of her legislative power could have been expected from ireland in that proud moment, when her new-born independence was but just beginning to smile in her lap, the acceptance of the terms then proffered by the minister, might have averted much of the evils, of which she was afterwards the victim. the proposed plan being, in itself, (as mr. grattan called it,) "an incipient and creeping union," would have prepared the way less violently for the completion of that fated measure, and spared at least the corruption and the blood which were the preliminaries of its perpetration at last. but the pride, so natural and honorable to the irish--had fate but placed them in a situation to assert it with any permanent effect--repelled the idea of being bound even by the commercial regulations of england. the wonderful eloquence of grattan, which, like an eagle guarding her young, rose grandly in defence of the freedom to which itself had given birth, would alone have been sufficient to determine a whole nation to his will. accordingly such demonstrations of resistance were made both by people and parliament, that the commercial propositions were given up by the minister, and this apparition of a union withdrawn from the eyes of ireland for the present--merely to come again, in another shape, with many a "mortal murder on its crown, and push her from her stool." as mr. sheridan took a strong interest in this question, and spoke at some length on every occasion when it was brought before the house, i will, in order to enable the reader to judge of his manner of treating it, give a few passages from his speech on the discussion of that resolution, which stipulated for england a control over the external legislation of ireland:-- "upon this view, it would be an imposition on common sense to pretend that ireland could in future have the exercise of free will or discretion upon any of those subjects of legislation, on which she now stipulated to follow the edicts of great britain; and it was a miserable sophistry to contend, that her being permitted the ceremony of placing those laws upon her own statute-book, as a form of promulgating them, was an argument that it was not the british but the irish statutes that bound the people of ireland. for his part, if he were a member of the irish parliament, he should prefer the measure of enacting by one decisive vote, that all british laws to the purposes stipulated, should have immediate operation in ireland as in great britain; choosing rather to avoid the mockery of enacting without deliberation, and deciding where they had no power to dissent. where fetters were to be worn, it was a wretched ambition to contend for the distinction of fastening our own shackles." * * * * * "all had been delusion, trick, and fallacy: a new scheme of commercial arrangement is proposed to the irish as a boon; and the surrender of their constitution is tacked to it as a mercantile regulation. ireland, newly escaped from harsh trammels and severe discipline, is treated like a high-mettled horse, hard to catch; and the irish secretary is to return to the field, soothing and coaxing him, with a sieve of provender in one hand, but with a bridle in the other, ready to slip over his head while he is snuffling at the food. but this political jockeyship, he was convinced, would not succeed." in defending the policy, as well as generosity of the concessions made to ireland by mr. fox in , he says,-- "fortunately for the peace and future union of the two kingdoms, no such miserable and narrow policy entered into the mind of his right honorable friend; he disdained the injustice of bargaining with ireland on such a subject; nor would ireland have listened to him if he had attempted it. she had not applied to purchase a constitution; and if a tribute or contribution had been demanded in return for what was then granted, those patriotic spirits who were at that time leading the oppressed people of that insulted country to the attainment of their just rights, would have pointed to other modes of acquiring them; would have called to them in the words of camillas, _arma aptare atque ferro non auro patriam et libertatem recuperare_." the following passage is a curious proof of the short-sighted views which prevailed at that period, even among the shrewdest men, on the subject of trade:-- "there was one point, however, in which he most completely agreed with the manufacturers of this country; namely, in their assertion, that if the irish trader should be enabled to meet the british merchant and manufacturer in the british market, the gain of ireland must be the loss of england. [footnote: mr. fox also said, "ireland cannot make a single acquisition but to the proportionate loss of england."] this was a fact not to be controverted on any principle of common sense or reasonable argument. the pomp of general declamation and waste of fine words, which had on so many occasions been employed to disguise and perplex this plain simple truth, or still more fallaciously to endeavor to prove that great britain would find her balance in the irish market, had only tended to show the weakness and inconsistency of the doctrine they were meant to support. the truth of the argument was with the manufacturers; and this formed, in mr. sheridan's mind, a ground of one of the most vehement objections he had to the present plan." it was upon the clamor, raised at this time by the english manufacturers, at the prospect of the privileges about to be granted to the trade of ireland, that tickell, whose wit was always on the watch for such opportunities, wrote the following fragment, found among the papers of mr. sheridan:-- "a vision. "after supping on a few colchester oysters and a small welsh rabbit, i went to bed last tuesday night at a quarter before eleven o'clock. i slept quietly for near two hours, at the expiration of which period, my slumber was indeed greatly disturbed by the oddest train of images i ever experienced. i thought that every individual article of my usual dress and furniture was suddenly gifted with the powers of speech, and all at once united to assail me with clamorous reproaches, for my unpardonable neglect of their common interests, in the great question of surrendering our british commerce to ireland. my hat, my coat, and every button on it, my manchester waistcoat, my silk breeches, my birmingham buckles, my shirt-buttons, my shoes, my stockings, my garters, and what was more troublesome, my night-cap, all joined in a dissonant volley of petitions and remonstrances--which, as i found it impossible to wholly suppress, i thought it most prudent to moderate, by soliciting them to communicate their ideas individually. it was with some difficulty they consented to even this proposal, which they considered as a device to extinguish their general ardor, and to break the force of their united efforts; nor would they by any means accede to it, till i had repeatedly assured them, that as soon as i heard them separately, i would appoint an early hour for receiving them in a joint body. accordingly, having fixed these preliminaries, my night-cap thought proper to slip up immediately over my ears, and disengaging itself from my temples, called upon my waistcoat, who was rather carelessly reclining on a chair, to attend him immediately at the foot of the bed. my sheets and pillow- cases, being all of irish extraction, stuck close to me, however,--which was uncommonly fortunate, for, not only my curtains had drawn off to the foot of the bed, but my blankets also had the audacity to associate themselves with others of the woollen fraternity, at the first outset of this household meeting. both my towels attended as evidences at the bar,--but my pocket-handkerchief, notwithstanding his uncommon forwardness to hold forth the banner of sedition, was thought to be a character of so mixed a complexion, as rendered it more decent for him to reserve his interference till my snuff-box could be heard--which was settled accordingly. "at length, to my inconceivable astonishment, my night-cap, attended as i have mentioned, addressed me in the following terms:--" * * * * * early as was the age at which sheridan had been transplanted from ireland--never to set foot upon his native land again--the feeling of nationality remained with him warmly through life, and he was, to the last, both fond and proud of his country. the zeal, with which he entered, at this period, into irish politics, may be judged of from some letters, addressed to him in the year , by mr. isaac corry, who was at that time a member of the irish opposition, and combated the commercial propositions as vigorously as he afterwards, when chancellor of the exchequer, defended their "consummate flower," the union. a few extracts from these letters will give some idea of the interest attached to this question by the popular party in both countries. the following, dated august , , was written during the adjournment of ten days, that preceded mr. orde's introduction of the propositions:-- "your most welcome letter, after hunting me some days through the country, has at length reached me. i wish you had sent some notes of your most excellent speech; but such as we have must be given to the public--admirable commentary upon mr. pitt's _apology to the people of ireland_, which must also be published in the manner fitting it. the addresses were sent round to all the towns in the kingdom, in order to give currency to the _humbug_. being upon the spot, i have my troops in perfect order, and am ready at a moment's warning for any manoeuvre which may, when we meet in dublin previous to the next sitting, be thought necessary to follow the petitions for postponing. "we hear astonishing accounts of _your_ greatness in particular. paddy will, i suppose, some _beau jour_ be voting you another , , [footnote: alluding to the recent vote of that sum to mr. grattan.] if you go on as you have done. "i send to-day down to my friend, o'neil, who waits for a signal only, and we shall go up together. brownlow is just beside me, and i shall ride over this morning to get him up to consultation in town.... we must get our whig friends in england to engraft a few slips of whiggism here --till that is done, there will be neither constitution for the people nor stability for the government. "charlemont and i were of opinion that we should not make the volunteers speak upon the present business; so i left it out in the resolutions at our late review. they are as tractable as we could desire, and we can manage them completely. we inculcate all moderation--were we to slacken in that, they would instantly step forward." the date of the following letter is august th--two days before mr. orde brought forward the propositions. "we have got the bill entire, sent about by orde. the more it is read, the less it is liked. i made notable use of the clause you sent me before the whole arrived. we had a select meeting to-day of the d. of leinster, charlemont, conolly, grattan, forbes, and myself. we think of moving an address to postpone to-morrow till the th of january, and have also some resolutions ready _pro re nata_, as we don't yet know what shape they will put the business into;--conolly to move. to- morrow morning we settle the address and resolutions, and after that, to-morrow, meet more at large at leinster house. all our troops muster pretty well. mountmorris is here, and to be with us to-morrow morning. we reckon on something like a hundred, and some are sanguine enough to add near a score above it--that is too much. the report of to-night is that orde is not yet ready for us, and will beg a respite of a few days --beresford is not yet arrived, and that is said to be the cause. mornington and poole are come--their muster is as strict as ours. if we divide any thing like a hundred, they will not dare to take a victory over us. adieu, yours most truly, "i. c." the motion for bringing in the bill was carried only by a majority of nineteen, which is thus announced to mr. sheridan by his correspondent:-- "i congratulate with you on minority-against . the business never can go on. they were astonished, and looked the sorriest devils you can imagine. orde's exhibition was pitiful indeed--the support of his party weak and open to attack--the debate on their part really poor. on ours, conolly, o'neill, and the other country gentlemen, strong and of great weight--grattan able and eloquent in an uncommon degree--every body in high spirits, and altogether a force that was irresistible. we divided at nine this morning, on leave to bring in a bill for the settlement. the ground fought upon was the fourth resolution, and the principle of that in the others. the commercial detail did not belong accurately to the debate, though some went over it in a cursory way. grattan, two hours and a half--flood as much--the former brilliant, well attended to, and much admired--the latter tedious from detail; of course, not so well heard, and answered by foster in detail, to refutation. "the attorney general defended the constitutional safety under the fourth-resolution principle. orde mentioned the opposition in england twice in his opening speech, with imputations, or insinuations at least, not very favorable. you were not left undefended. forbes exerted his warm attachment to you with great effect--burgh, the flag-ship of the leinster squadron, gave a well-supported fire pointed against pitt, and covering you. hardy (the bishop of down's friend) in a very elegant speech gave you due honor; and i had the satisfaction of a slight skirmish, which called up the attorney general, &c...." on the th of august mr. orde withdrew his bill, and mr. corry writes-- "i wish you joy a thousand times of our complete victory. orde has offered the bill--moved its being printed for his own justification to the country, and no more of it this session. we have the effects of a complete victory." another question of much less importance, but more calculated to call forth sheridan's various powers, was the plan of the duke of richmond for the fortification of dock-yards, which mr. pitt brought forward (it was said, with much reluctance) in the session of , and which sheridan must have felt the greater pleasure in attacking, from the renegade conduct of its noble author in politics. in speaking of the report of a board of general officers, which had been appointed to examine into the merits of this plan, and of which the duke himself was president, he thus ingeniously plays with the terms of the act in question, and fires off his wit, as it were, _en ricochet_, making it bound lightly from sentence to sentence:-- "yet the noble duke deserved the warmest panegyrics for the striking proofs he had given of his genius as an engineer; which appeared even in the planning and construction of the paper in his hand! the professional ability of the master-general shone as conspicuously there, as it could upon our coasts. he had made it an argument of posts; and conducted his reasoning upon principles of trigonometry, as well as logic. there were certain detached data, like advanced works, to keep the enemy at a distance from the main object in debate. strong provisions covered the flanks of his assertions. his very queries were in casements. no impression, therefore, was to be made on this fortress of sophistry by desultory observations; and it was necessary to sit down before it, and assail it by regular approaches. it was fortunate, however, to observe, that notwithstanding all the skill employed by the noble and literary engineer, his mode of defence on paper was open to the same objection which had been urged against his other fortifications; that if his adversary got possession of one of his posts, it became strength against him, and the means of subduing the whole line of his argument." he also spoke at considerable length, upon the plan brought forward by mr. pitt for the redemption of the national debt--that grand object of the calculator and the financier, and equally likely, it should seem, to be attained by the dreams of the one as by the experiments of the other. mr. pitt himself seemed to dread the suspicion of such a partnership, by the care with which he avoided any acknowledgment to dr. price, whom he had nevertheless personally consulted on the subject, and upon whose visions of compound interest this fabric of finance was founded. in opening the plan of his new sinking fund to the house, mr. pitt, it is well known, pronounced it to be "a firm column, upon which he was proud to flatter himself his name might be inscribed." tycho brahe would have said the same of his astronomy, and des cartes of his physics;--but these baseless columns have long passed away, and the plan of paying debt with borrowed money well deserves to follow them. the delusion, indeed, of which this fund was made the instrument, during the war with france, is now pretty generally acknowledged; and the only question is, whether mr. pitt was so much the dupe of his own juggle, as to persuade himself that thus playing with a debt, from one hand to the other, was paying it--or whether, aware of the inefficacy of his plan for any other purpose than that of keeping up a blind confidence in the money-market, he yet gravely went on, as a sort of high priest of finance, profiting by a miracle in which he did not himself believe, and, in addition to the responsibility of the uses to which he applied the money, incurring that of the fiscal imposture by which he raised it. though, from the prosperous state of the revenue at the time of the institution of this fund, the absurdity was not yet committed of borrowing money to maintain it, we may perceive by the following acute pleasantry of mr. sheridan, (who denied the existence of the alleged surplus of income,) that he already had a keen insight into the fallacy of that plan of redemption afterwards followed:--"at present," he said, "it was clear there was no surplus; and the only means which suggested themselves to him were, a loan of a million for the especial purpose-- for the right honorable gentleman might say, with the person in the comedy, '_if you won't lend me the money, how can i pay you?_'" chapter x. charges against mr. hastings.--commercial treaty with france.--debts of the prince of wales. the calm security into which mr. pitt's administration had settled, after the victory which the tory alliance of king and people had gained for him, left but little to excite the activity of party spirit, or to call forth those grand explosions of eloquence, which a more electric state of the political world produces. the orators of opposition might soon have been reduced, like philoetetes wasting his arrows upon geese at lemnos, [footnote: _"pinnigero, non armigero in corpore tela exerceantur."--accius, ap. ciceron._ lib. vii. ep. .] to expend the armory of their wit upon the grahams and rolles of the treasury bench. but a subject now presented itself--the impeachment of warren hastings-- which, by embodying the cause of a whole country in one individual, and thus combining the extent and grandeur of a national question, with the direct aim and singleness of a personal attack, opened as wide a field for display as the most versatile talents could require, and to mr. sheridan, in particular, afforded one of those precious opportunities, of which, if fortune but rarely offers them to genius, it is genius alone that can fully and triumphantly avail itself. the history of the rise and progress of british power in india--of that strange and rapid vicissitude, by which the ancient empire of the moguls was transferred into the hands of a company of merchants in leadenhall street--furnishes matter perhaps more than any other that could be mentioned, for those strong contrasts and startling associations, to which eloquence and wit often owe their most striking effects. the descendants of a throne, once the loftiest in the world, reduced to stipulate with the servants of traders for subsistence--the dethronement of princes converted into a commercial transaction, and a ledger-account kept of the profits of revolutions--the sanctity of zenanus violated by search-warrants, and the chicaneries of english law transplanted, in their most mischievous luxuriance, into the holy and peaceful shades of the bramins,--such events as these, in which the poetry and the prose of life, its pompous illusions and mean realities, are mingled up so sadly and fantastically together, were of a nature, particularly when recent, to lay hold of the imagination as well as the feelings, and to furnish eloquence with those strong lights and shadows, of which her most animated pictures are composed. it is not wonderful, therefore, that the warm fancy of mr. burke should have been early and strongly excited by the scenes of which india was the theatre, or that they should have (to use his own words) "constantly preyed upon his peace, and by night and day dwelt on his imagination." his imagination, indeed,--as will naturally happen, where this faculty is restrained by a sense of truth--was always most livelily called into play by events of which he had not himself been a witness; and, accordingly, the sufferings of india and the horrors of revolutionary france were the two subjects upon which it has most unrestrainedly indulged itself. in the year he had been a member of the select committee, which was appointed by the house of commons to take the affairs of india into consideration, and through some of whose luminous reports we trace that powerful intellect, which "stamped an image of itself" on every subject that it embraced. though the reign of clive had been sufficiently fertile in enormities, and the treachery practised towards ornichund seemed hardly to admit of any parallel, yet the loftier and more prominent iniquities of mr. hastings's government were supposed to have thrown even these into shadow. against him, therefore, --now rendered a still nobler object of attack by the haughty spirit with which he defied his accusers,--the whole studies and energies of mr. burke's mind were directed. it has already been remarked that to the impetuous zeal, with which burke at this period rushed into indian politics, and to that ascendancy over his party by which he so often compelled them to "swell with their tributary urns his flood," the ill-fated east india bill of mr. fox in a considerable degree owed its origin. in truth, the disposition and talents of this extraordinary man made him at least as dangerous as useful to any party with which he connected himself. liable as he was to be hurried into unsafe extremes, impatient of contradiction, and with a sort of _feudal_ turn of mind, which exacted the unconditional service of his followers, it required, even at that time, but little penetration to foresee the violent schism that ensued some years after, or to pronounce that, whenever he should be unable to command his party, he would desert it. the materials which he had been collecting on the subject of india, and the indignation with which these details of delinquency had filled him, at length burst forth (like that mighty cloud, described by himself as "pouring its whole contents over the plains of the carnatic") in his wonderful speech on the nabob of arcot's debts [footnote: isocrates, in his encomium upon helen, dwells much on the advantage to an orator of speaking upon subjects from which but little eloquence is expected-- [greek: pezi ton phaulon chai tapeinon]. there is little doubt, indeed, that _surprise_ must have considerable share in the pleasure, which we derive from eloquence on such unpromising topics as have inspired three of the most masterly speeches that can be selected from modern oratory--that of burke on the nabob of arcot's debts--of grattan on tithes, and of mr. fox on the westminster scrutiny.]--a speech, whose only rivals perhaps in all the records of oratory, are to be found among three or four others of his own, which, like those poems of petrarch called _sorelle_ from their kindred excellence, may be regarded as sisters in beauty, and equalled only by each other. though the charges against mr. hastings had long been threatened, it was not till the present year that mr. burke brought them formally forward. he had been, indeed, defied to this issue by the friends of the governor-general, whose reliance, however, upon the sympathy and support of the ministry (accorded, as a matter of course, to most state delinquents) was, in this instance, contrary to all calculation, disappointed. mr. pitt, at the commencement of the proceedings, had shown strong indications of an intention to take the cause of the governor-general under his protection. mr. dundas, too, had exhibited one of those convenient changes of opinion, by which such statesmen can accommodate themselves to the passing hue of the treasury-bench, as naturally as the eastern insect does to the color of the leaf on which it feeds. though one of the earliest and most active denouncers of indian mis-government, and even the mover of those strong resolutions in [footnote: in introducing the resolutions he said, that "he was urged to take this step by an account, which had lately arrived from india, of an act of the most flagrant violence and oppression and of the grossest breach of faith, committed by mr. hastings against cheyte sing, the raja of benares."] on which some of the chief charges of the present prosecution were founded, he now, throughout the whole of the opening scenes of the impeachment, did not scruple to stand forth as the warm eulogist of mr. hastings, and to endeavor by a display of the successes of his administration to dazzle away attention from its violence and injustice. this tone, however, did not long continue:--in the midst of the anticipated triumph of mr. hastings, the minister suddenly "changed his hand, and checked his pride." on the occasion of the benares charge, brought forward in the house of commons by mr. fox, a majority was, for the first time, thrown into the scale of the accusation; and the abuse that was in consequence showered upon mr. pitt and mr. dundas, through every channel of the press, by the friends of mr. hastings, showed how wholly unexpected, as well as mortifying, was the desertion. as but little credit was allowed to conviction in this change, it being difficult to believe that a minister should come to the discussion of such a question, so lightly ballasted with opinions of his own as to be thrown from his equilibrium by the first wave of argument he encountered,--various statements and conjectures were, at the time, brought forward to account for it. jealousy of the great and increasing influence of mr. hastings at court was, in general, the motive assigned for the conduct of the minister. it was even believed that a wish expressed by the king, to have his new favorite appointed president of the board of control, was what decided mr. pitt to extinguish, by cooperating with the opposition, every chance of a rivalry, which might prove troublesome, if not dangerous, to his power. there is no doubt that the arraigned ruler of india was honored at this period with the distinguished notice of the court--partly, perhaps, from admiration of his proficiency in that mode of governing, to which all courts are, more or less, instinctively inclined, and partly from a strong distaste to those who were his accusers, which would have been sufficient to recommend any person or measure to which they were opposed. but whether mr. pitt, in the part which he now took, was actuated merely by personal motives, or (as his eulogists represent) by a strong sense of impartiality and justice, he must at all events have considered the whole proceeding, at this moment, as a most seasonable diversion of the attacks of the opposition, from his own person and government to an object so little connected with either. the many restless and powerful spirits now opposed to him would soon have found, or made, some vent for their energies, more likely to endanger the stability of his power;-- and, as an expedient for drawing off some of that perilous lightning, which flashed around him from the lips of a burke, a fox, and a sheridan, the prosecution of a great criminal like mr. hastings furnished as efficient a conductor as could be desired. still, however, notwithstanding the accession of the minister, and the impulse given by the majorities which he commanded, the projected impeachment was but tardy and feeble in its movements, and neither the house nor the public went cordially along with it. great talents, united to great power--even when, as in the instance of mr. hastings, abused-- is a combination before which men are inclined to bow implicitly. the iniquities, too, of indian rulers were of that gigantic kind, which seemed to outgrow censure, and even, in some degree, challenge admiration. in addition to all this, mr. hastings had been successful; and success but too often throws a charm round injustice, like the dazzle of the necromancer's shield in ariosto, before which every one falls _"con gli occhi abbacinati, e senza mente."_ the feelings, therefore, of the public were, at the outset of the prosecution, rather for than against the supposed delinquent. nor was this tendency counteracted by any very partial leaning towards his accusers. mr. fox had hardly yet recovered his defeat on the india bill, or--what had been still more fatal to him--his victory in the coalition. mr. burke, in spite of his great talents and zeal, was by no means popular. there was a tone of dictatorship in his public demeanor against which men naturally rebelled; and the impetuosity and passion with which he flung himself into every favorite subject, showed a want of self- government but little calculated to inspire respect. even his eloquence, various and splendid as it was, failed in general to win or command the attention of his hearers, and, in this great essential of public speaking, must be considered inferior to that ordinary, but practical, kind of oratory, [footnote: "whoever, upon comparison, is deemed by a common audience the greatest orator, ought most certainly to be pronounced such by men of science and erudition."--_hume_, essay .] which reaps its harvest at the moment of delivery, and is afterwards remembered less for itself than its effects. there was a something--which those who have but read him can with difficulty conceive--that marred the impression of his most sublime and glowing displays. in vain did his genius put forth its superb plumage, glittering all over with the hundred eyes of fancy--the gait of the bird was heavy and awkward, and its voice seemed rather to scare than attract. accordingly, many of those masterly discourses, which, in their present form, may proudly challenge comparison with all the written eloquence upon record, were, at the time when they were pronounced, either coldly listened to, or only welcomed as a signal and excuse for not listening at all. to such a length was this indifference carried, that, on the evening when he delivered his great speech on the nabob of arcot's debts, so faint was the impression it produced upon the house, that mr. pitt and lord grenville, as i have heard, not only consulted with each other as to whether it was necessary they should take the trouble of answering it, but decided in the negative. yet doubtless, at the present moment, if lord grenville--master as he is of all the knowledge that belongs to a statesman and a scholar--were asked to point out from the stores of his reading the few models of oratorical composition, to the perusal of which he could most frequently, and with unwearied admiration, return, this slighted and unanswered speech would be among the number. from all these combining circumstances it arose that the prosecution of mr. hastings, even after the accession of the minister, excited but a slight and wavering interest; and, without some extraordinary appeal to the sympathies of the house and the country--some startling touch to the chord of public feeling--it was questionable whether the inquiry would not end as abortively as all the other indian inquests [footnote: namely, the fruitless prosecution of lord clive by general burgoyne, the trifling verdict upon the persons who had imprisoned lord pigot, and the bill of pains and penalties against sir thomas rumbold, finally withdrawn.] that had preceded it. in this state of the proceeding, mr. sheridan brought forward, on the th of february, in the house of commons, the charge relative to the begum princesses of oude, and delivered that celebrated speech, whose effect upon its hearers has no parallel in the annals of ancient or modern eloquence. [footnote: mr. burke declared it to be "the most astonishing effort of eloquence, argument, and wit united, of which there was any record or tradition." mr. fox said, "all that he had ever heard, all that he had ever read, when compared with it, dwindled into nothing, and vanished like vapor before the sun,"--and mr. pitt acknowledged "that it surpassed all the eloquence of ancient and modern times, and possessed every thing that genius or art could furnish, to agitate and control the human mind." there were several other tributes, of a less distinguished kind, of which i find the following account in the annual register-- "sir william dolben immediately moved an adjournment of the debate, confessing, that, in the state of mind in which mr. sheridan's speech had left him, it was impossible for him to give a determinate opinion. mr. stanhope seconded the motion. when he had entered the house, he was not ashamed to acknowledge, that his opinion inclined to the side of mr. hastings. but such had been the wonderful efficacy of mr. sheridan's convincing detail of facts, and irresistible eloquence, that he could not but say that his sentiments were materially changed. nothing, indeed, but information almost equal to a miracle, could determine him not to vote for the charge; but he had just felt the influence of such a miracle, and he could not but ardently desire to avoid an immediate decision. mr. mathew montague confessed, that he had felt a similar revolution of sentiment."] when we recollect the men by whom the house of commons was at that day adorned, and the conflict of high passions and interests in which they had been so lately engaged;--when we see them all, of all parties, brought (as mr. pitt expressed it) "under the wand of the enchanter," and only vying with each other in their description of the fascination by which they were bound;--when we call to mind, too, that he, whom the first statesmen of the age thus lauded, had but lately descended among them from a more aerial region of intellect, bringing trophies falsely supposed to be incompatible with political prowess;--it is impossible to imagine a moment of more entire and intoxicating triumph. the only alloy that could mingle with such complete success must be the fear that it was too perfect ever to come again;--that his fame had then reached the meridian point, and from that consummate moment must date its decline. of this remarkable speech there exists no report;--for it would be absurd to dignify with that appellation the meagre and lifeless sketch, the _tenuem sine viribus umbram in faciem aenae,_ which is given in the annual registers and parliamentary debates. its fame, therefore, remains like an empty shrine--a cenotaph still crowned and honored, though the inmate is wanting. mr. sheridan was frequently urged to furnish a report himself, and from his habit of preparing and writing out his speeches, there is little doubt that he could have accomplished such a task without much difficulty. but, whether from indolence or design, he contented himself with leaving to imagination, which, in most cases, he knew, transcends reality, the task of justifying his eulogists, and perpetuating the tradition of their praise. nor, in doing thus, did he act perhaps unwisely for his fame. we may now indulge in dreams of the eloquence that could produce such effects, [footnote: the following anecdote is given as a proof of the irresistible power of this speech in a note upon mr. bisset's history of the reign of george iii.:-- "the late mr. logan, well known for his literary efforts, and author of a most masterly defence of mr. hastings, went that day to the house of commons, prepossessed for the accused and against his accuser. at the expiration of the first hour he said to a friend, 'all this is declamatory assertion without proof:'--when the second was finished, 'this is a most wonderful oration:'--at the close of the third, 'mr. hastings has acted very unjustifiably:'--the fourth, 'mr. hastings is a most atrocious criminal;'--and, at last, 'of all monsters of iniquity the most enormous is warren hastings!'"] as we do of the music of the ancients and the miraculous powers attributed to it, with as little risk of having our fancies chilled by the perusal of the one, as there is of our faith being disenchanted by hearing a single strain of the other. after saying thus much, it may seem a sort of wilful profanation, to turn to the spiritless abstract of this speech, which is to be found in all the professed reports of parliamentary oratory, and which stands, like one of those half-clothed mummies in the sicilian vaults, with, here and there, a fragment of rhetorical drapery, to give an appearance of life to its marrowless frame. there is, however, one passage so strongly marked with the characteristics of mr. sheridan's talent--of his vigorous use of the edge of the blade, with his too frequent display of the glitter of the point--that it may be looked upon as a pretty faithful representation of what he spoke, and claim a place among the authentic specimens of his oratory. adverting to some of those admirers of mr. hastings, who were not so implicit in their partiality as to give unqualified applause to his crimes, but found an excuse for their atrocity in the greatness of his mind, he thus proceeds:-- "to estimate the solidity of such a defence, it would be sufficient merely to consider in what consisted this prepossessing distinction, this captivating characteristic of greatness of mind. is it not solely to be traced in great actions directed to great ends? in them, and them alone, we are to search for true estimable magnanimity. to them only can we justly affix the splendid title and honors of real greatness. there was indeed another species of greatness, which displayed itself in boldly conceiving a bad measure, and undauntedly pursuing it to its accomplishment. but had mr. hastings the merit of exhibiting either of these descriptions of greatness,--even of the latter? he saw nothing great--nothing magnanimous--nothing open--nothing direct in his measures, or in his mind. on the contrary, he had too often pursued the worst objects by the worst means. his course was an eternal deviation from rectitude. he either tyrannized or deceived; and was by turns a dionysius and a scapin. [footnote: the spirit of this observation has been well condensed in the compound name given by the abbe de pradt to napoleon--"jupiter scapin."] as well might the writhing obliquity of the serpent be compared to the swift directness of the arrow, as the duplicity of mr. hastings's ambition to the simple steadiness of genuine magnanimity. in his mind all was shuffling, ambiguous, dark, insidious, and little: nothing simple, nothing unmixed: all affected plainness, and actual dissimulation; a heterogeneous mass of contradictory qualities; with nothing great but his crimes; and even those contrasted by the littleness of his motives, which at once denoted both his baseness and his meanness, and marked him for a traitor and a trickster. nay, in his style and writing there was the same mixture of vicious contrarieties;-- the most grovelling ideas were conveyed in the most inflated language, giving mock consequence to low cavils, and uttering quibbles in heroics; so that his compositions disgusted the mind's taste, as much as his actions excited the soul's abhorrence. indeed this mixture of character seemed, by some unaccountable but inherent quality, to be appropriated, though in inferior degrees, to everything that concerned his employers. he remembered to have heard an honorable and learned gentleman (mr. dundas) remark, that there was something in the first frame and constitution of the company, which extended the sordid principles of their origin over all their successive operations; connecting with their civil policy, and even with their boldest achievements, the meanness of a pedlar and the profligacy of pirates. alike in the political and the military line could be observed _auctioneering ambassadors_ and _trading generals_;--and thus we saw a revolution brought about by _affidavits_; an army employed in _executing an arrest_; a town besieged on _a note of hand_; a prince dethroned for the _balance of an account_. thus it was they exhibited a government, which united the mock majesty of a bloody sceptre, and the little _traffic of a merchant's counting-house_, wielding a truncheon with one hand, and _picking a pocket with the other_." the effect of this speech, added to the line taken by the minister, turned the balance against hastings, and decided the impeachment. congratulations on his success poured in upon mr. sheridan, as may be supposed, from all quarters; and the letters that he received from his own family on the occasion were preserved by him carefully and fondly through life. the following extract from one written by charles sheridan is highly honorable to both brothers:-- "dublin castle, th february, . "my dear dick, "could i for a moment forget you were my brother, i should, merely as an irishman, think myself bound to thank you, for the high credit you have done your country. you may be assured, therefore, that the sense of national pride, which i in common with all your countrymen on this side of the water must feel on this splendid occasion, acquires no small increase of personal satisfaction, when i reflect to whom ireland is indebted, for a display of ability so unequalled, that the honor derived from it seems too extensive to be concentred in an individual, but ought to give, and i am persuaded will give, a new respect for the name of irishman. i have heard and read the accounts of your speech, and of the astonishing impression it made, with tears of exultation--but what will flatter you more--i can solemnly declare it to be a fact, that i have, since the news reached us, seen good honest _irish_ pride, national pride i mean, bring tears into the eyes of many persons, on this occasion, who never saw you. i need not, after what i have stated, assure you, that it is with the most heartfelt satisfaction that i offer you my warmest congratulations...." the following is from his eldest sister, mrs. joseph lefanu:-- " th february, . "my dear brother, "the day before yesterday i received the account of your glorious speech. mr. crauford was so good as to write a more particular and satisfactory one to mr. lefanu than we could have received from the papers. i have watched the first interval of ease from a cruel and almost incessant headache to give vent to my feelings, and tell you how much i rejoice in your success. may it be entire! may the god who fashioned you, and gave you powers to sway the hearts of men and control their wayward wills, be equally favorable to you in all your undertakings, and make your reward here and hereafter! amen, from the bottom of my soul! my affection for you has been ever 'passing the love of women.' adverse circumstances have deprived me of the pleasure of your society, but have had no effect in weakening my regard for you. i know your heart too well to suppose that regard is indifferent to you, and soothingly sweet to me is the idea that in some pause of thought from the important matters that occupy your mind, your earliest friend is sometimes recollected by you. "i know you are much above the little vanity that seeks its gratification in the praises of the million, but you must be pleased with the applause of the discerning,--with the tribute i may say of affection paid to the goodness of your heart. people love your character as much as they admire your talents. my father is, in a degree that i did not expect, gratified with the general attention you have excited here: he seems truly pleased that men should say, 'there goes the father of gaul.' if your fame has shed a ray of brightness over all so distinguished as to be connected with you, i am sure i may say it has infused a ray of gladness into my heart, deprest as it has been with ill health and long confinement...." there is also another letter from this lady, of the same date, to mrs. sheridan, which begins thus enthusiastically:-- "my dear sheri. "nothing but death could keep me silent on such an occasion as this. i wish you joy--i am sure you feel it: 'oh moments worth whole ages past, and all that are to come.' you may laugh at my enthusiasm if you please --i glory in it...." in the month of april following, mr. sheridan opened the seventh charge, which accused hastings of corruption, in receiving bribes and presents. the orator was here again lucky in having a branch of the case allotted to him, which, though by no means so susceptible of the ornaments of eloquence as the former, had the advantage of being equally borne out by testimony, and formed one of the most decided features of the cause. the avidity, indeed, with which hastings exacted presents, and then concealed them as long as there was a chance of his being able to appropriate them to himself, gave a mean and ordinary air to iniquities, whose magnitude would otherwise have rendered them imposing, if not grand. the circumstances, under which the present from cheyte sing was extorted shall be related when i come to speak of the great speech in westminster hall. the other strong cases of corruption, on which mr. sheridan now dwelt, were the sums given by the munny begum (in return for her appointment to a trust for which, it appears, she was unfit), both to hastings himself and his useful agent, middleton. this charge, as far as regards the latter, was never denied--and the suspicious lengths to which the governor-general went, in not only refusing all inquiry into his own share of the transaction, but having his accuser, nuncomar, silenced by an unjust sentence of death, render his acquittal on this charge such a stretch of charity, as nothing but a total ignorance of the evidence and all its bearings can justify. the following passage, with which sheridan wound up his speech on this occasion, is as strong an example as can be adduced of that worst sort of florid style, which prolongs metaphor into allegory, and, instead of giving in a single sentence the essence of many flowers, spreads the flowers themselves, in crude heaps, over a whole paragraph:-- "in conclusion (he observed), that, although within this rank, but infinitely too fruitful wilderness of iniquities--within this dismal and unhallowed labyrinth--it was most natural to cast an eye of indignation and concern over the wide and towering forest of enormities--all rising in the dusky magnificence of guilt; and to fix the dreadfully excited attention upon the huge trunks of revenge, rapine, tyranny, and oppression; yet it became not less necessary to trace out the poisonous weeds, the baleful brushwood, and all the little, creeping, deadly plants, which were, in quantity and extent, if possible, more noxious. the whole range of this far-spreading calamity was sown in the hot-bed of corruption; and had risen, by rapid and mature growth, into every species of illegal and atrocious violence." at the commencement of the proceedings against hastings, an occurrence, immediately connected with them, had brought sheridan and his early friend halhed together, under circumstances as different as well can be imagined from those under which they had parted as boys. the distance, indeed, that had separated them in the interval was hardly greater than the divergence that had taken place in their pursuits; for, while sheridan had been converted into a senator and statesman, the lively halhed had become an east indian judge, and a learned commentator on the gentoo laws. upon the subject, too, on which they now met, their views and interests were wholly opposite,--sheridan being the accuser of hastings, and halhed his friend. the following are the public circumstances that led to their interview. in one of the earliest debates on the charges against the governor- general, major scott having asserted that, when mr. fox was preparing his india bill, overtures of accommodation had been made, by his authority, to mr. hastings, added, that he (major scott) "entertained no doubt that, had mr. hastings then come home, he would have heard nothing of all this calumny, and all these serious accusations." mr. fox, whom this charge evidently took by surprise, replied that he was wholly ignorant of any such overtures, and that "whoever made, or even hinted at such an offer, as coming from him, did it without the smallest shadow of authority." by an explanation, a few days after, from mr. sheridan, it appeared that he was the person who had taken the step alluded to by major scott. his interference, however, he said, was solely founded upon an opinion which he had himself formed with respect to the india bill,-- namely, that it would be wiser, on grounds of expediency, not to make it retrospective in any of its clauses. in consequence of this opinion, he had certainly commissioned a friend to inquire of major scott, whether, if mr. hastings were recalled, he would come home;--but "that there had been the most distant idea of bartering with mr. hastings for his support of the indian bill, he utterly denied." in conclusion, he referred, for the truth of what he had now stated, to major scott, who instantly rising, acknowledged that, from inquiries which he had since made of the gentleman deputed to him by mr. sheridan on the occasion, he was ready to bear testimony to the fairness of the statement just submitted to the house, and to admit his own mistake in the interpretation which he had put on the transaction. it was in relation to this misunderstanding that the interview took place in the year between sheridan and halhed--the other persons present being major scott and doctor parr, from whom i heard the circumstance. the feelings of this venerable scholar towards "iste scotus" (as he calls major scott in his preface to bellendenus) were not, it is well known, of the most favorable kind; and he took the opportunity of this interview to tell that gentleman fully what he thought of him:--"for ten minutes," said the doctor, in describing his aggression, "i poured out upon him hot, scalding abuse--'twas lava, sir!" among the other questions that occupied the attention of mr. sheridan during this session, the most important were the commercial treaty with france, and the debts of the prince of wales. the same erroneous views by which the opposition to the irish commercial propositions was directed, still continued to actuate mr. fox and his friends in their pertinacious resistance to the treaty with france;--a measure which reflects high honor upon the memory of mr. pitt, as one of the first efforts of a sound and liberal policy to break through that system of restriction and interference, which had so long embarrassed the flow of international commerce. the wisdom of leaving trade to find its own way into those channels which the reciprocity of wants established among mankind opens to it, is one of those obvious truths that have lain long on the highways of knowledge, before practical statesmen would condescend to pick them up. it has been shown, indeed, that the sound principles of commerce which have at last forced their way from the pages of thinking men into the councils of legislators, were more than a hundred years since promulgated by sir dudley north; [footnote: mcculloch's lectures on political economy]--and in the querist of bishop berkeley may be found the outlines of all that the best friends not only of free trade but of free religion would recommend to the rulers of ireland at the present day. thus frequently does truth, before the drowsy world is prepared for her, like "the nice morn on the indian steep, from her cabin'd loophole peep." though mr. sheridan spoke frequently in the course of the discussions, he does not appear to have, at any time, encountered the main body of the question, but to have confined himself chiefly to a consideration of the effects which the treaty would have upon the interests of ireland;-- a point which he urged with so much earnestness, as to draw down upon him from one of the speakers the taunting designation of "self-appointed representative of ireland." mr. fox was the most active antagonist of the treaty; and his speeches on the subject may be counted among those feats of prowess, with which the chivalry of genius sometimes adorns the cause of error. in founding, as he did, his chief argument against commercial intercourse upon the "natural enmity" between the two countries, he might have referred, it is true, to high whig authority:--"the late lord oxford told me," says lord bolingbroke, "that my lord somers being pressed, i know not on what occasion or by whom, on the unnecessary and ruinous continuation of the war, instead of giving reasons to show the necessity of it, contented himself to reply that he had been bred up in a hatred to france."--but no authority, however high, can promote a prejudice into a reason, or conciliate any respect for this sort of vague, traditional hostility, which is often obliged to seek its own justification in the very mischiefs which itself produces. if mr. fox ever happened to peruse the praises, which his _antigallican_ sentiments on this occasion procured for him, from the tedious biographer of his rival, mr. gifford, he would have suspected, like phocion, that he must have spoken something unworthy of himself, to have drawn down upon his head a panegyric from such a quarter. another of mr. fox's arguments against entering into commercial relations with france, was the danger lest english merchants, by investing their capital in foreign speculations, should become so entangled with the interests of another country as to render them less jealous than they ought to be of the honor of their own, and less ready to rise in its defence, when wronged or insulted. but, assuredly, a want of pugnacity is not the evil to be dreaded among nations--still less between two, whom the orator had just represented as inspired by a "natural enmity" against each other. he ought rather, upon this assumption, to have welcomed the prospect of a connection, which, by transfusing and blending their commercial interests, and giving each a stake in the prosperity of the other, would not only soften away the animal antipathy attributed to them, but, by enlisting selfishness on the side of peace and amity, afford the best guarantee against wanton warfare, that the wisdom of statesmen or philosophers has yet devised. mr. burke, in affecting to consider the question in an enlarged point of view, fell equally short of its real dimensions; and even descended to the weakness of ridiculing such commercial arrangements, as unworthy altogether of the contemplation of the higher order of statesmen. "the right honorable gentleman," he said, "had talked of the treaty as if it were the affair of two little counting-houses, and not of two great countries. he seemed to consider it as a contention between the sign of the fleur-de-lis, and the sign of the red lion, which house should obtain the best custom. such paltry considerations were below his notice." in such terms could burke, from temper or waywardness of judgment, attempt to depreciate a speech which may be said to have contained the first luminous statement of the principles of commerce, with the most judicious views of their application to details, that had ever, at that period, been presented to the house. the wise and enlightened opinions of mr. pitt, both with respect to trade, and another very different subject of legislation, religion, would have been far more worthy of the imitation of some of his self- styled followers, than those errors which they are so glad to shelter under the sanction of his name. for encroachments upon the property and liberty of the subject, for financial waste and unconstitutional severity, they have the precedent of their great master ever ready on their lips. but, in all that would require wisdom and liberality in his copyists--in the repugnance he felt to restrictions and exclusions, affecting either the worldly commerce of man with man, or the spiritual intercourse of man with his god,--in all this, like the indian that quarrels with his idol, these pretended followers not only dissent from their prototype themselves, but violently denounce, as mischievous, his opinions when adopted by others. in attributing to party feelings the wrong views entertained by the opposition on this question, we should but defend their sagacity at the expense of their candor; and the cordiality, indeed, with which they came forward this year to praise the spirited part taken by the minister in the affairs of holland--even allowing that it would be difficult for whigs not to concur in a measure so national--sufficiently acquits them of any such perverse spirit of party, as would, for the mere sake of opposition, go wrong because the minister was right. to the sincerity of one of their objections to the treaty--namely, that it was a design, on the part of france, to detach england, by the temptation of a mercantile advantage, from her ancient alliance with holland and her other continental connections--mr. burke bore testimony, as far as himself was concerned, by repeating the same opinions, after an interval of ten years, in his testamentary work, the "letters on a regicide peace." the other important question which i have mentioned as engaging, during the session of , the attention of mr. sheridan, was the application to parliament for the payment of the prince of wales's debts. the embarrassments of the heir apparent were but a natural consequence of his situation; and a little more graciousness and promptitude on the part of the king, in interposing to relieve his royal highness from the difficulties under which he labored, would have afforded a chance of detaching him from his new political associates, of which, however the affection of the royal parent may have slumbered, it is strange that his sagacity did not hasten to avail itself. a contrary system, however, was adopted. the haughty indifference both of the monarch and his minister threw the prince entirely on the sympathy of the opposition. mr. pitt identified himself with the obstinacy of the father, while mr. fox and the opposition committed themselves with the irregularities of the son; and the proceedings of both parties were such as might have been expected from their respective connections--the royal mark was but too visible upon each. one evil consequence, that was on the point of resulting from the embarrassed situation in which the prince now found himself, was his acceptance of a loan which the duke of orleans had proffered him, and which would have had the perilous tendency of placing the future sovereign of england in a state of dependence, as creditor, on a prince of france. that the negotiations in this extraordinary transaction had proceeded farther than is generally supposed, will appear from the following letters of the duke of portland to sheridan:-- "sunday noon, dec. "dear sheridan, "since i saw you i have received a confirmation of the intelligence which was the subject of our conversation. the particulars varied in no respect from those i related to you--except in the addition of a pension, which is to take place immediately on the event which entitles the creditors to payment, and is to be granted for life to a nominee of the d. of o----s. the loan was mentioned in a mixed company by two of the frenchwomen and a frenchman (none of whose names i know) in _calonne's_ presence, who interrupted them, by asking, how they came to know any thing of the matter, then set them right in two or three particulars which they had misstated, and afterwards begged them, for god's sake, not to talk of it, because it might be their complete ruin. "i am going to bulstrode--but will return at a moment's notice, if i can be of the least use in getting rid of this odious engagement, or preventing its being entered into, if it should not be yet completed. "yours ever, "p." "dear sheridan, "i think myself much obliged to you for what you have done. i hope i am not too sanguine in looking to a good conclusion of this bad business. i will certainly be in town by two o'clock. "yours ever, "p." "bulstrode, monday, . dec. " a. m." mr. sheridan, who was now high in the confidence of the prince, had twice, in the course of the year , taken occasion to allude publicly to the embarrassments of his royal highness. indeed, the decisive measure which this illustrious person himself had adopted, in reducing his establishment and devoting a part of his income to the discharge of his debts, sufficiently proclaimed the true state of affairs to the public. still, however, the strange policy was persevered in, of adding the discontent of the heir-apparent to the other weapons in the hands of the opposition;--and, as might be expected, they were not tardy in turning it to account. in the spring of , the embarrassed state of his royal highness's affairs was brought formally under the notice of parliament by alderman newenham. during one of the discussions to which the subject gave rise, mr. rolle, the member for devonshire, a strong adherent of the ministry, in deprecating the question about to be agitated, affirmed that "it went immediately to affect our constitution in church and state." in these solemn words it was well understood, that he alluded to a report at that time generally believed, and, indeed, acted upon by many in the etiquette of private life, that a marriage had been solemnized between the prince of wales and mrs. fitzherbert--a lady of the roman catholic persuasion, who, with more danger to her own peace than to that of either church or state, had for some time been the distinguished object of his royal highness's affection. even had an alliance of this description taken place, the provisions of the royal marriage act would have nullified it into a mere ceremony, inefficient, as it was supposed, for any other purpose than that of satisfying the scruples of one of the parties. but that dread of popery, which in england starts at its own shadow, took alarm at the consequences of an intercourse so heterodox; and it became necessary, in the opinion of the prince and his friends, to put an end to the apprehensions that were abroad on the subject. nor can it be denied that, in the minds of those who believed that the marriage had been actually solemnized, [footnote: home tooke, in his insidious pamphlet on the subject, presumed so far on this belief as to call mrs. fitzherbert "her royal highness."] there were, in one point of view, very sufficient grounds of alarm. by the statute of william and mary, commonly called the bill of rights, it is enacted, among other causes of exclusion from the throne, that "every person who shall marry a papist shall be excluded and for ever be incapable to inherit the crown of this realm."--in such cases (adds this truly revolutionary act) "the people of these realms shall be and are hereby absolved of their allegiance." under this act, which was confirmed by the act of settlement, it is evident that the heir-apparent would, by such a marriage as was now attributed to him, have forfeited his right of succession to the throne. from so serious a penalty, however, it was generally supposed, he would have been exempted by the operation of the royal marriage act ( george iii.), which rendered null and void any marriage contracted by any descendant of george ii. without the previous consent of the king, or a twelve months' notice given to the privy council. that this act would have nullified the alleged marriage of the prince of wales there is, of course, no doubt;--but that it would also have exempted him from the forfeiture incurred by marriage with a papist, is a point which, in the minds of many, still remains a question. there are, it is well known, analogous cases in law, where the nullity of an illegal transaction does not do away the penalty attached to it. [footnote: thus, a man, by contracting a second marriage, pending the first marriage, commits a felony; and the crime, according to its legal description, consists in marrying, or contracting a marriage--though what he does is no more a marriage than that of the heir-apparent would be under the circumstances in question. the same principle, it appears, runs through the whole law of entails both in england and scotland, and a variety of cases might be cited, in which, though the act done is void, yet the doing of it creates a forfeiture.] to persons, therefore, who believed that the actual solemnization of the marriage could be proved by witnesses present at the ceremony, this view of the case, which seemed to promise an interruption of the succession, could not fail to suggest some disquieting apprehensions and speculations, which nothing short, it was thought, of a public and authentic disavowal of the marriage altogether would be able effectually to allay. if in politics princes are unsafe allies, in connections of a tenderer nature they are still more perilous partners; and a triumph over a royal lover is dearly bought by the various risks and humiliations which accompany it. not only is a lower standard of constancy applied to persons of that rank, but when once love-affairs are converted into matters of state, there is an end to all the delicacy and mystery that ought to encircle them. the disavowal of a royal marriage in the gazette would have been no novelty in english history; [footnote: see, in ellis's letters of history, vol. iii. the declarations of charles ii. with respect to his marriage with "one mrs. walters," signed by himself and published in the london gazette.] and the disclaimer, on the present occasion, though intrusted to a less official medium, was equally public, strong, and unceremonious. mr. fox, who had not been present in the house of commons when the member for devonshire alluded to the circumstance, took occasion, on the next discussion of the question, and, as he declared, with the immediate authority of the prince, to contradict the report of the marriage in the fullest and most unqualified terms:--it was, he said, "a miserable calumny, a low malicious falsehood, which had been propagated without doors, and made the wanton sport of the vulgar;--a tale, fit only to impose upon the lowest orders, a monstrous invention, a report of a fact which had not the smallest degree of foundation, actually impossible to have happened." to an observation from mr. rolle that "they all knew there was an act of parliament which forbade such a marriage; but that, though it could not be done under the formal sanction of the law, there were ways in which it might have taken place, and in which that law, in the minds of some persons, might have been satisfactorily evaded,"--mr. fox replied, that--"he did not deny the calumny in question merely with regard to certain existing laws, but that he denied it _in toto_, in point of fact as well as of law:--it not only never could have happened legally, but it never did happen in any way whatsoever, and had from the beginning been a base and malicious falsehood." though mr. rolle, from either obstinacy or real distrust, refused, in spite of the repeated calls of mr. sheridan and mr. grey, to declare himself satisfied with this declaration, it was felt by the minister to be at least sufficiently explicit and decisive, to leave him no further pretext in the eyes of the public, for refusing the relief which the situation of the prince required. accordingly a message from the crown on the subject of his royal highness's debts was followed by an addition to his income of l , yearly out of the civil list; an issue of l , from the same source, for the discharge of his debts, and l , on account of the works at carlton house. in the same proportion that this authorized declaration was successful in satisfying the public mind, it must naturally have been painful and humiliating to the person whose honor was involved in it. the immediate consequence of this feeling was a breach between that person and mr. fox, which, notwithstanding the continuance, for so many years after, of the attachment of both to the same illustrious object, remained, it is understood, unreconciled to the last. if, in the first movement of sympathy with the pain excited in that quarter, a retractation of this public disavowal was thought of, the impossibility of finding any creditable medium through which to convey it, must soon have suggested itself to check the intention. some middle course, however, it was thought, might be adopted, which, without going the full length of retracting, might tend at least to unsettle the impression left upon the public, and, in some degree, retrieve that loss of station, which a disclaimer, coming in such an authentic shape, had entailed. to ask mr. fox to discredit his own statement was impossible. an application was, therefore, made to a young member of the party, who was then fast rising into the eminence which he has since so nobly sustained, and whose answer to the proposal is said to have betrayed some of that unaccommodating highmindedness, which, in more than one collision with royalty, has proved him but an unfit adjunct to a court. the reply to his refusal was, "then i must get sheridan to say something;"--and hence, it seems, was the origin of those few dexterously unmeaning compliments, with which the latter, when the motion of alderman newenham was withdrawn, endeavored, without in the least degree weakening the declaration of mr. fox, to restore that equilibrium of temper and self-esteem, which such a sacrifice of gallantry to expediency had naturally disturbed. in alluding to the offer of the prince, through mr. fox, to answer any questions upon the subject of his reported marriage, which it might be thought proper to put to him in the house, mr. sheridan said,--"that no such idea had been pursued, and no such inquiry had been adopted, was a point which did credit to the decorum, the feelings, and the dignity of parliament. but whilst his royal highness's feelings had no doubt been considered on this occasion, he must take the liberty of saying, however some might think it a subordinate consideration, that there was another person entitled, in every delicate and honorable mind, to the same attention; one, whom he would not otherwise venture to describe or allude to, but by saying it was a name, which malice or ignorance alone could attempt to injure, and whose character and conduct claimed and were entitled to the truest respect." end of vol. i. to h. t. swedenberg, junior _founder_, _protector_, _friend_ _he that delights to_ plant _and_ set, _makes_ after-ages _in his_ debt. where could they find another formed so fit, to poise, with solid sense, a sprightly wit? were these both wanting, as they both abound, where could so firm integrity be found? the verse and emblem are from george wither, _a collection of emblems, ancient and modern_ (london, ), illustration xxxv, page . the lines of poetry ( - ) are from "to my honoured kinsman john driden," in john dryden, _the works of john dryden_, ed. sir walter scott, rev. and corr. george saintsbury (edinburgh: william patterson, ), xi, . the augustan reprint society colley cibber a letter from mr. _cibber_ to mr. _pope_ ( ) _introduction by_ helene koon publication number william andrews clark memorial library university of california, los angeles general editors william e. conway, william andrews clark memorial library george robert guffey, university of california, los angeles maximillian e. novak, university of california, los angeles david s. rodes, university of california, los angeles advisory editors richard c. boys, university of michigan james l. clifford, columbia university ralph cohen, university of virginia vinton a. dearing, university of california, los angeles arthur friedman, university of chicago louis a. landa, princeton university earl miner, princeton university samuel h. monk, university of minnesota everett t. moore, university of california, los angeles lawrence clark powell, william andrews clark memorial library james sutherland, university college, london h. t. swedenberg, jr., university of california, los angeles robert vosper, william andrews clark memorial library curt a. zimansky, state university of iowa corresponding secretary edna c. davis, william andrews clark memorial library editorial assistant jean t. shebanek, william andrews clark memorial library typography by wm. m. cheney introduction in the twentieth century, colley cibber's name has become synonymous with "fool." pope's _dunciad_, the culmination of their long quarrel, has done its work well, and cibber, now too often regarded merely as a pretentious dunce, has been relegated to an undeserved obscurity. the history of this feud is replete with inconsistencies.[ ] the image cibber presents of himself as a charming, good-natured, thick-skinned featherbrain is as true as pope's of himself as a patient, humorous, objective moralist. each picture is somewhat manipulated by its creator. the reasons behind the manipulation are less matters of outright untruth than of complex personalities disclosing only what they regard as pertinent. cibber, the actor, always tries to charm his audience; pope, the satirist, proffers those aspects best suited to his moral purpose. although the fact of their differences is evident in pope's writings after , explanations of the cause, continuation and climax tend to be muddled. the cause generally cited is cibber's story in the letter concerning _three hours after marriage_ and _the rehearsal_. this is not only a one-sided version, it is not even strongly substantiated. as norman ault pointed out, it was not reported in any of the periodicals at a time when such incidents were seized upon by journalists hungry for gossip.[ ] the only confirmation aside from cibber is montagu bacon's letter to his cousin james montagu, which gives a slightly less vivacious account: 'i don't know whether you heard, before you went out of town, that _the rehearsal_ was revived ... and cibber interlarded it with several things in ridicule of the last play, upon which pope went up to him and told him he was a rascal, and if he were able he would cane him; that his friend gay was a proper fellow, and if he went on in his sauciness he might expect such a reception from him. the next night gay came accordingly, and, treating him as pope had done the night before, cibber very fairly gave him a fillip on the nose, which made them both roar. the guards came and parted them, and carried away gay, and so ended this poetical scuffle.'[ ] a more likely cause is the second story in the _letter_, the visit to the bawdy house. if, as ault goes on to suggest, there is even a shadow of truth in it, pope's attitude, as well as his reluctance to reveal its cause, is understandable. the question then becomes: why did he continually provoke cibber, knowing the latter had such a story at hand? this, however, might not be so illogical as it appears. pope's work in the thirties abounds in sneers at the actor, but none of them is equal in scale to the full attack launched against theobald. in comparison with the portraits of atticus and sporus, the comments on cibber are minor barbs that could be ignored by a man whose reputation was secure in its own right. cibber evidently believed he was in such a position, for he offered no defense before , and took no offensive action before . the "wicked wasp of twickenham" is supposed to have meditated long and fiendishly before bursting forth against his enemies, yet the _dunciad_ of reveals no evidence of long fermentation. the choice of theobald as king of the dunces obviously derives from _shakespeare restored; or a specimen of the many errors as well committed as unamended by mr. pope, in his late edition of that poet_ ( ). theobald's remarks on pope's slipshod editing of shakespeare are not couched in diplomatic terms, and would be especially galling if warburton's note is true: during two whole years while mr. pope was preparing his edition of shakespear, he publish'd advertisements, requesting assistance, and promising satisfaction to any who could contribute to its greater perfection. but this restorer, who was at that time solliciting favours of him by letters, did wholly conceal his design, till after its publication: (which he was since not asham'd to own, in a _daily journal_, of nov. , .)[ ] pedantic, unimaginative and presumptuous, theobald was the logical choice for a dunce king in . dennis, ducket, burnet, gildon _et cie._, had assailed him for years, and the prompt responses by scriblerus merely increased their fury. pope bore as many undeserved blows as cibber, and he was no model of patience; the intense hostilities waged against him in the twenties were ample cause for an epic answer.[ ] pope claimed he attacked only those who had attacked him. it seems strange that, among the inimical host who had indulged in verbal violence, he should have revised his satire against the one man who had not contributed to the paper war, and who had, in his _apology_, made humble acknowledgment of pope's gifts: "how terrible a weapon is satyr in the hands of a great genius?" cibber asks, remarking on pope's acid portrait of addison, and adds: but the pain which the acrimony of those verses gave me is, in some measure, allay'd in finding that this inimitable writer, as he advances in years, has since had candour enough to celebrate the same person for his visible merit. happy genius! whose verse, like the eye of beauty, can heal the deepest wounds with the least glance of favour.[ ] even stranger is that with such eminent and vocal enemies as lord hervey and lady mary wortley montagu, he should have been concerned with a seventy-year-old semi-retired player who was too ineffectual, it would appear, to be a proper target for his great satire, and whose words in print could never have been a real threat. the words "in print" are important, especially with reference to cibber. as far as direct attack in the form of broadsides, pamphlets and the like, cibber is clearly innocent; however, like many actors, he was an expert improvisator of stage dialogue, and this in itself is a reason to believe that his side of the feud was kept up from the theater platform. a more potent and public method of ridicule would be difficult to devise. stage warfare was as prevalent as paper warfare, as cibber's mockery of _three hours after marriage_ suggests, and as the prologues and epilogues amply demonstrate. _the non-juror_ ( ) with its anti-catholic remarks and its jesuit villain played by cibber himself, has several barbs directed at pope.[ ] if pope's wounds had been festering since , he had a perfect opportunity to avenge them in the _dunciad variorum_ of . when gay's _polly_ was suppressed that year, cibber was accused of being responsible (though it was never proved),[ ] since he had first refused _the beggar's opera_, and then failed miserably to imitate its success with his own _love in a riddle_. he was at this time more widely known than theobald, and had been a favorite target for anti-hanoverians since _the non-juror_.[ ] it is very odd that pope should have ignored this chance, particularly when so many of his dunces are playwrights, only to take it up fourteen years later under much less favorable circumstances--when he himself was mortally ill and cibber out of the public eye--unless something else had provoked him. one view is that the laureateship triggered the alteration, but while it is true that cibber was one of the worst versifiers ever to wear the bays, that honor had been conferred in , thirteen years before the last _dunciad_. the flood of burlesque odes that followed each of cibber's birth-day and new-year efforts had ebbed by the mid-thirties, and in the laureate was a stale joke. the _apology_'s praise of pope did not benefit cibber; years before the _epistle to dr. arbuthnot_ had stated: a fool quite angry is quite innocent; alas! 'tis ten times worse when they repent ( - ). and the minor slap on the wrist was misquoted by pope, as the _letter_ points out. the exchange is interesting, for it is an indication that the man behind the actor's mask might have been less thick-skinned than he liked to seem, that he was genuinely hurt by pope's shafts. cibber did not mind being portrayed as a fool. that, after all was the character he had created as sir novelty fashion in _love's last shift_ ( ), and which he continued to play in public throughout his life. but a charge of immorality did bother him, for he was anxious to be considered a moral man. apparently he was--his enemies charged him with gambling, highhandedness and plagiarism, but his life seems to have been surprisingly free of the kind of scandal that plagued most theatrical personalities. his plays embody the materialistic middle-class values which he champions in his later prose writings, and of all pope's arrows, "and has not colley still his lord and whore?"[ ] seems to have struck deepest. it may be significant that the bawdy house story follows close upon cibber's plaintive remonstrance against this line. as long as cibber was in his own territory, he could answer pope orally, but when he at last decided to reply in print, he was at a distinct disadvantage. the actor has a notorious disregard for the written word; his own experience on stage tells him that what is being said has less impact than the manner in which it is delivered. cibber's lack of concern for language had been well publicized. his comment that anne oldfield "out-did her usual out-doing"[ ] was never allowed to rest, and fielding rarely missed an opportunity to use cibber's "paraphonalia" against him; that the most merciless parody of his odes could scarcely sink to the depths of the originals, did not deter the efforts of the parodists.[ ] he was not entirely insensible of his weaknesses. the second edition of _the provoked husband_ was silently changed to "out-did her usual excellence," and the spelling of paraphernalia corrected. dr. johnson's testimony supports this view of cibber's seriousness: his friends gave out that he _intended_ his birth-day odes should be bad: but that was not the case, sir; for he kept them many months by him, and a few years before he died he shewed me one of them, with great solicitude to render it as perfect as might be, and i made some corrections, to which he was not very willing to submit.[ ] his unwillingness to take johnson's advice might be more than mere egotism, if the ode was the same one mentioned elsewhere in the _life_, "i remember when he brought me one of his odes to have my opinion of it, i could not bear such nonsense, and would not let him read it to the end; so little respect had i for _that great man_! (laughing.)."[ ] the laureateship marked only one of several changes in cibber's life. in , the triumvirate of actor-managers and their leading lady, a quartet which had supported drury lane through its most prosperous years, was broken by the death of anne oldfield; wilks followed in , and booth, too ill to perform for two years, in . cibber's royal appointment meant a sure annual income of £ (plus a butt of sack worth £ ), his children were grown, and he could afford some freedom from the demands of the theater at last. he continued to act, but with lessening frequency, until , when as cardinal pandulph in his own _papal tyranny in the reign of king john_, he played the last role of a career spanning more than half a century. by , he was far enough removed from the theater to have a slightly different perspective on language. the _apology_ betrays a concern for his reputation beyond the immediate audience, and the need to leave a written record other than his plays. cibber had written prefaces and dedications, but from this point on, he was to pursue his nondramatic writing with _the egoist; or, colley upon cibber being his own picture retouch'd, to so plain a likeness, that no one, now, would have the face to own it, but himself_ ( ); _the lady's lecture, a theatrical dialogue, between sir charles easy and his marriageable daughter. being an attempt to engage obedience by filial liberty, and to given the maiden conduct of virtue, chearfulness_ ( ); and _the character and conduct of cicero_ ( ), which davies defends: a player daring to write upon a known subject without a college permission, was a shocking offense; and yet dr. middleton, to whom the conduct of cicero was addressed, spoke of it with respect; and mr. hooke, the writer of the best roman history in our language, has quoted cibber's arguments in this [his?] pamphlet against the murderers of julius caesar, and speaks of them, not only with honour, but insists upon them as cogent and unanswerable.[ ] cibber seems to have become more and more aware of the written word as a powerful legacy, and pope's attacks began to hold a menace they had not had during the years of lighthearted stage warfare. on march , the _new dunciad_ struck him with enough force to cause him to reply with this open _letter_ of july, which attracted a great deal of attention.[ ] four engravings and at least six pamphlets, all focusing on the bawdy house story, were shortly in circulation. whether or not the story is true, or whether it was even believed, is immaterial. its importance lies in that it allowed pope's enemies to have at him in the most devastating way. the _letter_ may well have been as painful as jonathan richardson, jr. claimed when he told dr. johnson that he attended his father, the painter, on a visit to twickenham when one of cibber's pamphlets had just come into pope's hands. 'these things are my diversion,' said pope. they sat by him while he read it, and saw his features writhing with anguish. after the visitors had taken their leave, young richardson said to his father that he 'hoped to be preserved from such diversion as had been that day the lot of pope.'[ ] if so, the other attacks must have been shattering, since they lacked even the surface good humor of cibber's _letter_. pope, at any rate, was concerned enough to tell spence: the story published by cibber, as to the main point, is an absolute lie. i do remember that i was invited by lord warwick to pass an evening with him. he carried me and cibber in his coach to a bawdy-house. there was a woman there, but i had nothing to do with her of the kind that cibber mentions, to the best of my memory--and i had so few things of that kind ever on my hands that i could scarce have forgot it, especially so circumstanced as he pretends.[ ] an answer to the _letter_ was demanded, and it was not long in coming. in august/september, pope wrote his friend hugh bethel concerning a copy of the _new dunciad_ he had sent him: that poem has not done me, or my quiet, the least harm; only it provokd cibber to write a very foolish & impudent letter, which i have no cause to be sorry for, & perhaps next winter i shall be thought to be glad of: but i lay in my claim to you, to testify for me, that if he should chance to die before a new & improved edition of the dunciad comes out, i have already, actually written (before, & not after his death) all i shall ever say about him.[ ] a cibber-baiting campaign was undertaken by the poet's friends, and the actor responded with _the egoist_, in which he defended himself, as in his _apology_, by freely admitting his flaws with infuriating complacency. then a false leaf of the last _dunciad_ came into his hands (though certainly not directly from pope), and he published a second, very brief, letter which indicated some stress. pope knew, and at least tacitly approved, of these tactics, for in february of , he wrote lord marchmont: i won't publish the fourth _dunciad_ as 'tis newset till michaelmas, that we may have time to play cibber all the while.... he will be stuck, like the man in the almanac, not deep, but all over. he won't know which way to turn himself to. exhausted at the first stroke, and reduced to passion and calling names, so that he won't be able to write more, and won't be able to bear living without writing.[ ] copyright difficulties not mentioned by pope prevented the michaelmas publication date, but on october , the final _dunciad_ appeared with its new hero, for all the world to see. cibber kept his promise to "have the last word." _another letter from mr. cibber to mr. pope_ followed the publication of this _dunciad_, stating his grievances with somewhat less humor, a number of scatological references, and an accusation against warburton for instigating the change. included was a twenty-page aside on the offending bishop, revealing a startlingly thorough knowledge of his writings. this was the end. cibber's friends were eager for him to keep up his side of the battle, but he, having had his say, resumed his good-humor and refused to speak out again. it has been suggested that pope may have planned the change in hero earlier, and aimed the _new dunciad_ with the express purpose of goading cibber into just such a reply as the _letter_. this is, of course, possible, but it cannot be more than speculation; the final _dunciad_ does show evidence of hasty revision. pope was severely ill when his last variation on the dunce theme appeared, and the seven months of life remaining to him were clearly not enough to permit him to polish it to the level of perfection customary in his work. but, as warburton once noted, quality and posterity have awarded pope the final say: quoth cibber to pope, tho' in verse you foreclose, i'll have the last word; for by g--, i'll write prose. poor colly, thy reas'ning is none of the strongest, for know, the last word is the word that lasts longest.[ ] cibber's words have not been reprinted since the eighteenth century, and his reputation has become so distorted it is sometimes difficult to find the man who, for so many years, amused and delighted london audiences. yet, if one looks closely, under the froth and foppery, some of the charm and perception of the man still shines through. and, of more importance to the world of literature, it seems fairly clear that, whatever the original offense, the _dunciad_ as we know it today was a direct result of this _letter_. california state college san bernardino notes to the introduction [ ] not even the winner of the contest has been beyond dispute. years afterward, robert w. lowe, "supplementary chapter to colley cibber's apology" in his edition of _an apology for the life of colley cibber, comedian, and late patentee of the theatre-royal_ (london: j. c. nimmo, ), ii, , remarks on cibber's later years: "his [cibber's] state of mind was probably the more 'chearful and contented' because of his unquestionable success in his tilt with the formidable author of 'the dunciad;' a success none the less certain at the time, that the enduring fame of pope has caused cibber's triumph over him to be lost sight of now." [ ] norman ault, _new light on pope_ (london: methuen, ), pp. - . [ ] george paston [emily morse symmonds], _mr. pope his life and times_ (london: hutchinson & co., ), i, . [ ] alexander pope, _works_, ed. william warburton (london: j. and p. knapton, ), v, (book i, line ). griffith . this is a note to the variations on lines ff: "but chief in bays's monster-breeding breast" and the wording is slightly altered from the earlier note quoted in the twickenham edition, v, , _dunciad_ (a), book i, line n. [ ] j. v. guerinot, _pamphlet attacks on alexander pope - _ (new york: new york university press, ), lists pamphlets between and the publication of the first _dunciad_, but he does not include the frequent newspaper comments. [ ] cibber, i, - . [ ] william h. peterson, "pope and cibber's _the non-juror_" mln, lxx (may, ), - . three instances are given: . maria, the coquette, quotes _the rape of the lock_ with great relish. the praise is in the wrong mouth. . maria speaks slightingly of her english version of homer. pope's last volume had just come out. . dr. wolf refers to "eloisa and abelard" in his second attempt to seduce lady woodvil. the argument is twisted out of context. these elements, combined with the strong anti-catholic sentiment, would certainly point attention toward pope, and, in any case, were not calculated to please him. [ ] see r. h. barker, _mr. cibber of drury lane_ (new york: columbia university press, ), p. . [ ] cibber's supposition that pope wrote the _clue to the non-juror_ has subsequently been established as correct. see ault, pp. - . [ ] _epistle to arbuthnot_, . it should be noted here that cibber misquotes the line, a failing habitual to him. the anonymous pamphlet, _a blast upon bays; or, a new lick at the laureat_, which appeared shortly after the letter, points out rather severely the difference in meaning between cibber's "too" and pope's "still", maintaining a mistress twenty years after the events, _a blast_ is as heated in defense of pope as it is in attack against cibber, but it offers no evidence; aside from pope's original line, it is the only charge of this kind among contemporary attacks. [ ] colley cibber, _the provoked husband_ (london, ), preface. [ ] two examples from the birth-day odes will give some idea of the cibberian quality: her fleets, that now the seas command, were late upon her forests growing; her wholesome stores, for every band, as late within her fields were sowing. ( ) behold! in clouds of fire serene, the royal hero heads his pow'rs: alike to fame, with raptures seen, his younger hope, the eaglet soars. fortune, to grace her fav'rite son, stamps on his bleeding form renown. ( ) [ ] james boswell, _life of johnson_, ed. george birkbeck hill, rev. l. f. powell (oxford: clarendon press, ), i, . [ ] boswell, ii, - . [ ] thomas davies, _memoirs of the life of david garrick, esq._ (london, ), ii, . [ ] in the twickenham edition of _the dunciad_ (london: methuen, nd ed. rev., , pp. xxxiii-xxxiv and (b) ), james sutherland refers to line ("soft on her lap her laureat son reclines") and holds that cibber's answer may have been less a protest than a warning. in _the new dunciad_ ( ), however, the footnote to this line expands the satire, quotes from the _apology_ and is a sharper attack than the line itself. [ ] paston, i, . [ ] joseph spence, _observations, anecdotes and characters of books and men_, ed. james m. osborn (oxford: clarendon press, ), i, (no. ). [ ] alexander pope, correspondence, ed. george sherburn (oxford: oxford university press, ), iv, . [ ] spence, i, - (no. ). [ ] pope, _works_, v. (book i, line n). this verse appears in the twickenham edition, v, , as a note to _dunciad_ (b) book i, line . bibliographical note the facsimile of _a letter from mr. cibber to mr. pope_ ( ) is reproduced by permission from a copy of the first edition (shelf mark: ) in _the huntington library, san marino, california_. the total type-page (p. ) measures x mm. a letter from mr. _cibber_, to mr. _pope_. price one shilling. a letter from mr. _cibber_, to mr. _pope_, inquiring into the motives that might induce him in his satyrical works, to be so frequently fond of mr. cibber's name. _out of thy own mouth will i judge thee._ pref. to the _dunciad_. _london_, printed: and sold by w. lewis in _russel-street, covent-garden_. m dcc xlii. price s. a letter to mr. _pope_, &c. _sir_, as you have for several years past (particularly in your poetical works) mentioned my name, without my desiring it; give me leave, at last, to make my due compliments to _yours_ in prose, which i should not choose to do, but that i am really driven to it (as the puff in the play-bills says) _at the desire of several persons of quality_. if i have lain so long stoically silent, or unmindful of your satyrical favours, it was not so much for want of a proper reply, as that i thought they never needed a publick one: for all people of sense would know, what truth or falshood there was in what you have said of me, without my wisely pointing it out to them. nor did i choose to follow your example of being so much a self-tormentor, as to be concern'd at whatever opinion of me any publish'd invective might infuse into people unknown to me: even the malicious, though they may like the libel, don't always believe it. but since the publication of your last new _dunciad_ (where you still seem to enjoy your so often repeated glory of being bright upon my dulness) my friends now insist, that it will be thought dulness indeed, or a plain confession of my being a bankrupt in wit, if i don't immediately answer those bills of discredit you have drawn upon me: for, say they, your dealing with him, like a gentleman, in your _apology for your own life_, &c. you see, has had no sensible effect upon him, as appears by the wrong-headed reply his notes upon the new _dunciad_ have made to it: for though, in that _apology_ you seem to have offer'd him a friendly release of all damages, yet as it is plain he scorns to accept it, by his still holding you at defiance with fresh abuses, you have an indisputable right to resume that discharge, and may now, as justly as ever, call him to account for his many bygone years of defamation. but pray, gentlemen, said i, if, as you seem to believe, his defamation has more of malice than truth in it, does he not blacken himself by it? why then should i give myself the trouble to prove, what you, and the world are already convinc'd of? and since after near twenty years having been libell'd by our daily-paper scriblers, i never was so hurt, as to give them one single answer, why would you have me seem to be more sore now, than at any other time? as to those dull fellows, they granted my silence was right; yet they could not but think mr. _pope_ was too eminent an author to justify my equal contempt of him; and that a disgrace, from such a pen, might stick upon me to posterity: in fine, that though i could not be rouz'd from my indifference, in regard to myself, yet for the particular amusement of my acquaintance, they desired i would enter the lists with you; notwithstanding i am under the disadvantage of having only the blunt and weak weapon of prose, to oppose you, or defend myself, against the sharpness of verse, and that in the hand of so redoubted an author as mr. _pope_. their spiriting me up to this unequal engagement, i doubt is but an ill compliment to my skill, or my discretion; or, at best, seems but to put me upon a level with a famous boxer at the _bear-garden_, called _rugged and tough_, who would stand being drubb'd for hours together, 'till wearying out his antagonist by the repeated labour of laying him on, and by keeping his own wind (like the _roman_ combatant of old, who conquer'd by seeming to fly) honest _rugged_ sometimes came off victorious. all i can promise therefore, since i am stript for the combat, is, that i will so far imitate this iron-headed hero (as the _turks_ called the late king of _sweden_) as always to keep my temper, as he did his wind, and that while i have life, or am able to set pen to paper, i will now, sir, have the last word with you: for let the odds of your wit be never so great, or its pen dipt in whatever venom it may, while i am conscious you can say nothing truly of me, that ought to put an honest man to the blush, what, in god's name, can i have to fear from you? as to the reputation of my attempts, in poetry, that has taken its ply long ago, and can now no more be lessened by your coldest contempt, than it can be raised by your warmest commendation, were you inclin'd to give it any: every man's work must and will always speak _for_, or _against_ itself, whilst it has a remaining reader in the world. all i shall say then as to that point, is, that i wrote more to be fed, than be famous, and since my writings still give me a dinner, do you rhyme me out of my stomach if you can. and i own myself so contented a dunce, that i would not have even your merited fame in poetry, if it were to be attended with half the fretful solicitude you seem to have lain under to maintain it; of which the laborious rout you make about it, in those loads of prose rubbish, wherewith you have almost smother'd your _dunciad_, is so sore a proof: and though i grant it a better poem of its kind, than ever was writ; yet when i read it, with those vain-glorious encumbrances of notes, and remarks, upon almost every line of it, i find myself in the uneasy condition i was once in at an opera, where sitting with a silent desire to hear a favourite air, by a famous performer, a coxcombly connoisseur, at my elbow, was so fond of shewing his own taste, that by his continual remarks, and prating in praise of every grace and cadence, my attention and pleasure in the song was quite lost and confounded. it is almost amazing, that you, who have writ with such masterly spirit, upon the _ruling passion_, should be so blind a slave to your own, as not to have seen, how far a low avarice of praise might prejudice, or debase that valuable character, which your works, without your own commendatory notes upon them, might have maintained. _laus propria sordet_, is a line we learn in our infancy. how applicable to your self then is what you say of another person, _viz._ _whose ruling passion is the lust of praise; born, with whate'er could win it from the wise, women and fools must like him, or he dies._ epist. to ld. _cobham_ vers. . how easily now can you see the folly in another, which you yourself are so fond of? why, sir, the very jealousy of fame, which (in the best cruel verses that ever fell from your pen) you have with so much asperity reproved in _addison_ (_atticus_ i mean) falls still short of yours, for though you impute it to him as a crime, that he could---- _bear, like the_ turk, _no brother near the throne._ vers. of the same epist. yet you, like outragious _nero_, are for whipping and branding every poor dunce in your dominions, that had the stupid insolence not to like you, or your musick! if this is not a greater tyranny than that of your _atticus_, at least you must allow it more ridiculous: for what have you gain'd by it? a mighty matter! a victory over a parcel of poor wretches, that were not able to hurt or resist you, so weak, it was almost cowardice to conquer them; or if they actually _did_ hurt you, how much weaker have you shewn yourself in so openly owning it? besides, your conduct seems hardly reconcileable to your own opinion: for after you have lash'd them (in your epistle to dr. _arburthnot_, ver. .) you excuse the cruelty of it in the following line. ------_take it for a rule, no creature smarts so little as a fool._ now if this be true, to what purpose did you correct them? for wise men, without your taking such pains to tell them, knew what they were before. and that publick-spirited pretence of your only chastising them, _in terrorem_ to others of the same malicious disposition, i doubt is but too thin a disguise of the many restless hours they have given you. if your revenge upon them was necessary, we must own you have amply enjoy'd it: but to make that revenge the chief motive of writing your _dunciad_, seems to me a weakness, that an author of your abilities should rather have chosen to conceal. a man might as well triumph for his having kill'd so many silly flies that offended him. could you have let them alone, by this time, poor souls, they had been all peaceably buried in oblivion! but the very lines, you have so sharply pointed to destroy them, will now remain but so many of their epitaphs, to transmit their names to posterity: which probably too they may think a more eligible fate than that of being totally forgotten. hear what an author of great merit, though of less anxiety for fame, says upon this weakness, _fame is a bubble, the reserv'd enjoy, who strive to grasp it, as they touch, destroy._ y-- univers. passion. in a word, you seem in your _dunciad_, to have been angry at the rain for wetting you, why then would you go into it? you could not but know, that an author, when he publishes a work, exposes himself to all weathers. he then that cannot bear the worst, should stay at home, and not write at all. but sir--that _cibber_ ever murmured at your fame, or endeavoured to blast it, or that he was not always, to the best of his judgment, as warm an admirer of your writings as any of your nearest friends could be, is what you cannot, by any one fact or instance, disprove. how comes it then, that in your works you have so often treated him as a dunce or an enemy? did he at all intrench upon your sovereignty in verse, because he had now and then written a comedy that succeeded? or could not you bear, that any kind of poetry, but that, to which you chiefly pretended, should meet with applause? or was it, that he had an equal reputation for acting his own characters as for writing them, or that with such inferior talents he was admitted to as good company as you, with your superior, could get into; or what other offensive merit had he, that has so often made him the object of your contempt or envy? it could not be, sure, simple ill-nature, that incited you, because in the preface to your _dunciad_ you declare that you have------ "in this poem attacked no man living, who had not before printed, or published some scandal against you." how comes it, i say, that you have so often fallen foul upon _cibber_ then, against whom you have no complaint, nor whose name is so much as mentioned in the printed list you have given us of all those high offenders, you so imperiously have proscribed and punish'd. under this class at least, you acquit him of having ever provoked you? but in your notes, to this preface (that is, in your notes upon notes) from this general declaration, you make an exception,--"of two, or three persons only, whose dulness or scurrility all mankind agreed, to have justly intitled them to a place in the _dunciad_." here then, or no where, you ground your pretence of taking me into it! now let us enquire into the justness of this pretence, and whether dulness in one author gives another any right to abuse him for it? no sure! dulness can be no vice or crime, or is at worst but a misfortune, and you ought no more to censure or revile him for it, than for his being blind or lame; the cruelty or injustice will be evidently equal either way. but if you please i will wave this part of my argument, and for once take no advantage of it; but will suppose dulness to be actually criminal, and then will leave it to your own conscience, to declare, whether you really think i am generally so guilty of it, as to deserve the name of the dull fellow you make of me. now if the reader will call upon my conscience to speak to the question, i do from my heart solemnly declare, that i don't believe you _do_ think so of me. this i grant may be vanity in me to say: but if what i believe is true, what a slovenly conscience do you shew your face with? now, sir, as for my scurrility, when ever a proof can be produced, that i have been guilty of it to you, or any one man living, i will shamefully unsay all i have said, and confess i have deserv'd the various names you have call'd me. having therefore said enough to clear my self of any ill-will or enmity to mr. _pope_, i should be glad he were able equally to acquit himself to me, that i might not suppose the satyrical arrows he has shot at me, to have flown from that malignity of mind, which the talking world is so apt to accuse him of. in the mean while, it may be worth the trouble to weigh the truth, or validity of the wit he has bestow'd upon me, that it may appear, which of us is the worse man for it; he, for his unprovoked endeavour to vilify and expose me, or--i, for my having or having not deserv'd it. i could wish it might be observed then, by those who have read the works of mr. _pope_, that the contemptuous things he there says of me, are generally bare positive assertions, without his any sort of evidence to ground them upon: why then, till the truth of them is better prov'd, should they stand for any more, than so many _gratis dictums_? but i hope i have given him fairer play, in what i have said of him, and which i intend to give him, in what i shall farther say of him; that is, by saying nothing to his disadvantage that has not a known fact to support it. this will bring our cause to a fair issue; and no impartial reader, then, can be at a loss on which side equity should incline him to give judgment. but as in this dispute i shall be oblig'd, sometimes to be _witness_, as well as _accuser_, i am bound, in conscience, not to conceal any fact, that may possibly mitigate, or excuse the resentful manner, in which mr. _pope_ has publickly treated me. now i am afraid, that i once as publickly offended him, before a thousand spectators; to the many of them, therefore, who might be witnesses of the fact, i submit, as to the most competent judges, how far it ought, or ought not, to have provoked him. the play of the _rehearsal_, which had lain some few years dormant, being by his present majesty (then prince of _wales_) commanded to be revived, the part of _bays_ fell to my share. to this character there had always been allow'd such ludicrous liberties of observation, upon any thing new, or remarkable, in the state of the stage, as mr. _bays_ might think proper to take. much about this time, then, _the three hours after marriage_ had been acted without success; when mr. _bays_, as usual, had a fling at it, which, in itself, was no jest, unless the audience would please to make it one: but however, flat as it was, mr. _pope_ was mortally sore upon it. this was the offence. in this play, two coxcombs, being in love with a learned virtuoso's wife, to get unsuspected access to her, ingeniously send themselves, as two presented rarities, to the husband, the one curiously swath'd up like an _egyptian_ mummy, and the other slily cover'd in the paste-board skin of a crocodile: upon which poetical expedient, i, mr. _bays_, when the two kings of _brentford_ came from the clouds into the throne again, instead of what my part directed me to say, made use of these words, viz. "now, sir, this revolution, i had some thoughts of introducing, by a quite different contrivance; but my design taking air, some of your sharp wits, i found, had made use of it before me; otherwise i intended to have stolen one of them in, in the shape of a _mummy_, and t'other, in that of a _crocodile_." upon which, i doubt, the audience by the roar of their applause shew'd their proportionable contempt of the play they belong'd to. but why am i answerable for that? i did not lead them, by any reflection of my own, into that contempt: surely to have used the bare word _mummy_, and _crocodile_, was neither unjust, or unmannerly; where then was the crime of simply saying there had been two such things in a former play? but this, it seems, was so heinously taken by mr. _pope_, that, in the swelling of his heart, after the play was over, he came behind the scenes, with his lips pale and his voice trembling, to call me to account for the insult: and accordingly fell upon me with all the foul language, that a wit out of his senses could be capable of------how durst i have the impudence to treat any gentleman in that manner? _&c. &c. &c._ now let the reader judge by this concern, who was the true mother of the child! when he was almost choked with the foam of his passion, i was enough recover'd from my amazement to make him (as near as i can remember) this reply, _viz._ "mr. _pope_----you are so particular a man, that i must be asham'd to return your language as i ought to do: but since you have attacked me in so monstrous a manner; this you may depend upon, that as long as the play continues to be acted, i will never fail to repeat the same words over and over again." now, as he accordingly found i kept my word, for several days following, i am afraid he has since thought, that his pen was a sharper weapon than his tongue to trust his revenge with. and however just cause this may be for his so doing, it is, at least, the only cause my conscience can charge me with. now, as i might have concealed this fact, if my conscience would have suffered me, may we not suppose, mr. _pope_ would certainly have mention'd it in his _dunciad_, had he thought it could have been of service to him? but as he seems, notwithstanding, to have taken offence from it, how well does this soreness of temper agree with what he elsewhere says of himself? _but touch me, and no minister so sore._ sat. b. of hor. ver. . since then, even his admirers allow, that spleen has a great share in his composition, and as thirst of revenge, in full possession of a conscious power to execute it, is a temptation, which we see the depravity of human nature is so little able to resist, why then should we wonder, that a man so easily hurt, as mr. _pope_ seems to be, should be so frequently delighted in his inflicting those pains upon others, which he feels he is not himself able to bear? this is the only way i can account for his having sometimes carried his satyrical strokes farther, than, i doubt, a true and laudable satyrist would have thought justifiable. but it is now time to open, what on my own part i have to charge him with. in turning over his works of the smaller edition, the eldest date i find, in print, of my being out of his favour, is from an odd objection he makes to a, then, new play of mine, _the non-juror_. in one of his letters to mr. _jervas_, p. . he writes thus---- "your acquaintance, on this side the water, are under terrible apprehensions, from your long stay in _ireland_, that you may grow too polite for them; for we think (since the great success of _such a play as the non-juror_) that politeness is gone over the water, _&c._ (by the way, was not his wit a little stiff and weary, when he strained so hard to bring in this costive reflection upon the _non-juror_? dear soul! what terrible apprehensions it gave him!) and some few lines after he cries out---- "poor poetry! the little that's left of thee, longs to cross the seas---- modestly meaning, i suppose, he had a mind to have gone over himself! if he had gone, and had carried with him those polite pieces, _the what d'ye call it_, and _the three hours after marriage_ (both which he had a hand in) how effectually had those elaborate examples of the true genius given, to the _dublin_ theatre, the glory of dramatick poetry restor'd? but _drury-lane_ was not so favourable to him; for there alas! (where the last of them was unfortunately acted) he had so sore a rap o' the fingers, that he never more took up his pen for the stage. but this is not fair, you will say: my shewing mr. _pope_'s want of skill in comedy, is no excuse for the want of it in myself; which his satyr sometimes charges me with: at least, it must be owned, it is not an easy thing to hit by his missing it. and indeed i have had some doubt, as there is no personal reflection in it, whether i ought to have mention'd his objection to _the non-juror_ at all; but as the particularity of it may let one a good deal into the sentiments of mr. _pope_, i could not refrain from bestowing some farther notes upon it. well then! upon the great success of this enormous play, _the non-juror_, poor mr. _pope_ laments the decay of poetry; though the impoliteness of the piece is his only insinuated objection against it. how nice are the nostrils of this delicate critick! this indeed is a scent, that those wide-mouth'd hounds the daily-paper criticks could never hit off! though they pursued it with the imputation of every offence that could run down a play: yet impoliteness at least they oversaw. no! they did not disguise their real dislike, as the prudent mr. _pope_ did; they all fairly spoke out, and in full cry open'd against it, only for its so audaciously exposing the sacred character of a lurking, treason-hatching jesuit, and for inhumanly ridiculing the conscientious cause of an honest deluded jacobite gentleman. now may we not as well say to mr. pope, _hinc illæ lachrymæ_! here was his real disgust to the play! for if impoliteness could have so offended him, he would never have bestowed such encomiums upon the _beggars opera_, which whatever beauties it might boast, politeness certainly was not one of its most striking features. no, no! if the play had not so impudently fallen upon the poor enemies of the government, mr. _pope_, possibly, might have been less an enemy to the play: but he has a charitable heart, and cannot bear to see his friends derided in their distress: therefore you may have observed, whenever the government censures a man of consequence for any extraordinary disaffection to it; then is mr. _pope_'s time generously to brighten and lift him up with virtues, which never had been so conspicuous in him before. now though he may be led into all this, by his thinking it a religious duty; yet those who are of a different religion may sure be equally excused, if they should notwithstanding look upon him as their enemy. but to my purpose. whatever might be his real objections to it, mr. _pope_ is, at least, so just to the play, as to own it had great success, though it grieved him to see it; perhaps too he would have been more grieved, had he then known, that his late majesty, when i had the honour to kiss his hand, upon my presenting my dedication of it, was graciously pleased, out of his royal bounty, to order me two hundred pounds for it. yes, sir! 'tis true--such was the depravity of the time, you will say, and so enormous was the reward of _such a play as the non-juror_! this brings to my memory (what i cannot help smiling at) the bountiful banter, you at this time endeavoured to put upon me. this was the fact i had, not long before, been a subscriber to your _homer_: and now, to make up our poetical accounts, as you call'd it, you sent me a note, with four guineas inclosed, for four tickets, for the author's day of _such a play as the non-juror_. so unexpected a favour made me conclude, there must be something at the bottom of it, which an indifferent eye might have overlooked: however i sent you the tickets with a written acknowledgment; for i was willing you should think the kind appearance had passed upon me; though every gentleman i told it to laugh'd at my credulity, wondering i should not see, you had plainly done this, in scorn of my subscription to your _homer_. which, to say the truth, i never had the least doubt of, but did not think myself so far obliged to gratify your pride, as to shew any sign of my feeling the hurt you intended me. though, as this was in the infancy of your disinclination to me, i confess, i might have been better pleased, would your temper have suffered me to have been upon better terms with you: but so it is! of such insensible stuff am i made, that i have been rated by my friends, for not being surprized, or grieved at disappointments. this i only offer as an early instance of our different dispositions. my subscription had no disguise, i thought it due to the merit of mr. _pope_: but that his bounty to me rose from the same motive, i am afraid would be vanity in me to suppose. there is another whimsical fact relating to this play, which common fame, just after the run of it, charged to mr. _pope_: had i his sagacity in detecting concealed authors, or his laborious curiosity to know them, i do not doubt but i might bring my fact to a proof upon him; but let my suspicion speak for itself. at this time then there came out a pamphlet (the title i have forgot) but the given name of the author was _barnevelt_, which every body believed to be fictitious. the purport of this odd piece of wit was to prove, that _the non-juror_ in its design, its characters, and almost every scene of it, was a closely couched jacobite libel against the government: and, in troth, the charge was in some places so shrewdly maintained, that i almost liked the jest myself; at least, it was so much above the spirit, and invention of the daily-paper satyrists, that all the sensible readers i met with, without hesitation gave it to mr. _pope_. and what afterwards left me no doubt of it was, that he published the same charge against his own _rape of the lock_, proving even the design of that too, by the same sort of merry innuendos, to have been as audacious a libel, as the other pamphlet had made _the non-juror_. in a word, there is so much similitude of stile, and thought, in these two pieces, that it is scarce possible to give them to different authors. 'tis true, at first sight, there appears no great motive for mr. _pope_ to have written either of them, more than to exercise the wantonness of his fancy: but some people thought, he might have farther views in this frolick. he might hope, that the honest vulgar would take literally, his making a libel of _the non-juror_, and from thence have a good chance of his turning the stream of their favour against it. as for his playing the same game with his _rape of the lock_, that he was, at least, sure could do him no harm; but on the contrary he might hope, that such a ludicrous self-accusation might soften, or wipe off any severe imputation that had lain upon other parts of his writings, which had not been thought equally innocent of a real disaffection. this way of owning guilt in a wrong place, is a common artifice to hide it in a right one. now though every reader is not obliged to take all i have said for evidence in this case; yet there may be others, that are not obliged to refuse it. let it therefore avail no more, than in reality it ought to do. since, as you say, in one of your letters to mr. _addison_, "_to be uncensured and to be obscure is the same thing_;" i hope then to appear in a better light, by quoting some of your farther flirts at _the non-juror_. in your correspondence with mr. _digby_ p. . complaining of people's insensibility to good writing, you say (with your usual sneer upon the same play) "the stage is the only place we seem alive at: there indeed we stare, and roar, and clap hands for king _george_ and the government. this could be meant of no play, but _the non-juror_, because no other had made the enemies of the king and government so ridiculous; and therefore, it seems, you think the town as ridiculous to roar and clap at it. but, sir, as so many of the government's friends were willing to excuse its faults for the honesty of its intention; so, if you were not of that number, i do not wonder you had so strong a reason to dislike it. in the same letter too, this wicked play runs so much in your head, that in the favourable character you there give of the lady _scudamore_, you make it a particular merit in her, that she had not then even _seen_ cibber_'s play of the_ non-juror. i presume, at least, she had heard mr. _pope_'s opinion of it, and then indeed the lady might be in the right. i suppose by this time you will say, i have tir'd your patience; but i do assure you i have not said so much upon this head, merely to commemorate the applauses of _the non-juror_, as to shew the world one of your best reasons for having so often publish'd your contempt of the author. and yet, methinks, the good-nature which you so frequently labour to have thought a part of your character, might have inclin'd you to a little more mercy for an old acquaintance: nay, in your epistle to dr. _arbuthnot_, ver. , you are so good as to say, you have been so humble as to _drink with cibber_. sure then, such humility might at least have given the devil his due: for, black as i am, i have still some merit to you, in the profess'd pleasure i always took in your writings? but alas! if the friendship between yourself and mr. _addison_, (which with such mutual warmth you have profess'd in your publish'd letters) could not protect him from that insatiable rage of satyr that so often runs away with you, how could so frivolous a fellow as i am (whose friendship you never cared for) hope to escape it? however, i still comfort myself in one advantage i have over you, that of never having deserved your being my enemy. you see, sir, with what passive submission i have hitherto complained to you: but now give me leave to speak an honest truth, without caring how far it may displease you. if i thought, then, that your ill-nature were half as hurtful to me, as i believe it is to yourself, i am not sure i could be half so easy under it. i am told, there is a serpent in some of the _indies_, that never stings a man without leaving its own life in the wound: i have forgot the name of it, and therefore cannot give it you. or if this be too hard upon you, permit me at least to say, your spleen is sometimes like that of the little angry bee, which, in doing less mischief than the serpent, yet (as _virgil_ says) meets with the same fate.----_animasque in vulnere ponunt._ why then may i not wish you would be advis'd by a fact which actually happen'd at the _tower_ guard? an honest lusty grenadier, while a little creeping creature of an ensign, for some trifling fault, was impotently laying him on with his cane, quietly folded his arms across, and shaking his head, only reply'd to this valiant officer, "have a care, dear captain! don't strike so hard! upon my soul you will hurt yourself!" now, sir, give me leave to open your _dunciad_, that we may see what work your wit has made with my name there. when the goddess of _dulness_ is shewing her works to her chosen son, she closes the variety with letting him see, _ver._ . _how, with less reading than makes felons 'scape less human genius than god gives an ape, small thanks to_ france, _and none to_ rome, _or_ greece, _a patch'd, vamp'd, future, old, reviv'd, new piece, 'twixt_ plautus, fletcher, congreve _and_ corneille, _can make a_ cibber, johnson, _or_ ozell. and pray, sir, why my name, under this scurvy picture? i flatter myself, that if you had not put it there, no body else would have thought it like me, nor can i easily believe that you yourself do: but perhaps you imagin'd it would be a laughing ornament to your verse, and had a mind to divert other peoples spleen with it, as well as your own. now let me hold up my head a little, and then we shall see how far the features hit me! if indeed i had never produc'd any plays, but those i alter'd of other authors, your reflexion then might have had something nearer an excuse for it: but yet, if many of those plays have liv'd the longer for my meddling with them, the sting of your satyr only wounds the air, or at best debases it to impotent railing. for you know very well that _richard the third_, _the fop's fortune_, _the double gallant_, and some others, that had been dead to the stage out of all memory, have since been in a constant course of acting above these thirty or forty years. nor did even _dryden_ think it any diminution of his fame to take the same liberty with _the tempest_, and the _troilus and cressida_ of _shakespear_; and tho' his skill might be superior to mine, yet while my success has been equal to his, why then will you have me so ill-favouredly like the dunce you have drawn for me? or do those alter'd plays at all take from the merit of those more successful pieces, which were entirely my own? is a tailor, that can make a new coat well, the worse workman, because he can mend an old one? when a man is abus'd, he has a right to speak even laudable truths of himself, to confront his slanderer. let me therefore add, that my first comedy of _the fool in fashion_ was as much (though not so valuable) an original, as any one work mr. _pope_ himself has produc'd. it is now forty-seven years since its first appearance upon the stage, where it has kept its station, to this very day, without ever lying one winter dormant. and what part of this play, sir, can you charge with a theft either from any _french_ author, from _plautus_, _fletcher_, _congreve_, or _corneille_? nine years after this i brought on _the careless husband_, with still greater success; and was that too _a patch'd, vamp'd, future, old, reviv'd, new piece?_ let the many living spectators of these plays then judge between us, whether the above verses, you have so unmercifully besmear'd me with, were fit to come from the _honest heart_ of a satyrist, who would be thought, like you, the upright censor of mankind. indeed, indeed, sir, this libel was below you! how could you be so wanting to yourself as not to consider, that satyr, without truth, tho' flowing in the finest numbers, recoils upon its author, and must, at other times, render him suspected of prejudice, even where he may be just; as frauds, in religion, make more atheists than converts? and the bad heart, mr. _pope_, that points an injury with verse, makes it the more unpardonable, as it is not the result of sudden passion, but of an indulg'd and slowly meditating ill-nature; and i am afraid yours, in this article, is so palpable, that i am almost asham'd to have made it so serious a reply. what a merry mixt mortal has nature made you? that can thus debase that strength and excellence of genius she has endow'd you with, to the lowest human weakness, that of offering unprovok'd injuries; nay, at the hazard of your being ridiculous too, as you must be, when the venom you spit falls short of your aim! for i shall never believe your verses have done me the harm you intended, or lost me one friend, or added a single soul to the number of my enemies, though so many thousands that know me, may have read them. how then could your blind impatience in your _dunciad_ thunder out such poetical _anathemas_ on your own enemies, for doing you no worse injuries than what you think it no crime in yourself to offer to another? in your remarks upon the above verses, your wit, unwilling to have done with me, throws out an ironical sneer at my attempts in tragedy: let us see how far it disgraces me. after your quoting the following paragraph from _jacob's lives of the dramatick poets_, viz. "mr. _colley cibber_, an author, and an actor, of a good share of wit and uncommon vivacity, which are much improv'd by the conversation he enjoys, which is of the best," _&c._ then say you, "mr. _jacob_ omitted to remark, that he is particularly admirable in tragedy." ay, sir, and your remark has omitted too, that (with all his commendations) i can't dance upon the rope, or make a saddle, nor play upon the organ.--augh! my dear, dear mr. _pope_! how could a man of your stinging capacity let so tame, so low a reflexion escape him? why this hardly rises above the pretty malice of miss _molly_--_ay, ay, you may think my sister as handsome as you please, but if you were to see her legs--i know what i know_! and so, with all these imperfections upon me, the triumph of your observation amounts to this: that tho' you should allow, by what _jacob_ says of me, that i am good for something, yet you notwithstanding have cunningly discover'd, that i am not good for _every thing_. well, sir, and am not i very well off, if you have nothing worse to say of me? but if i have made so many crowded theatres laugh, and in the right place too, for above forty years together, am i to make up the number of your dunces, because i have not the equal talent of making them cry too? make it your own case: is what you have excell'd in at all the worse, for your having so dismally dabbled (as i before observ'd) in the farce of _three hours after marriage_? _non omnia possumus omnes_, is an allow'd excuse for the insufficiencies of all mankind; and if, as you see, you too must sometimes be forc'd to take shelter under it, as well as myself, what mighty reason will the world have to laugh at my weakness in tragedy, more than at yours in comedy? or, to make us both still easier in the matter, if you will say, you are not asham'd of your weakness, i will promise you not to be asham'd of mine. or if you don't like this advice, let me give you some from the wiser _spanish_ proverb, which says, _that a man should never throw stones, that has glass windows in his head_. upon the whole, your languid ill-will in this remark, makes so sickly a figure, that one would think it were quite exhausted; for it must run low indeed, when you are reduc'd to impute the want of an excellence, as a shame to me. but in _ver._ , your whole barrel of spleen seems not to have a drop more in it, though you have tilted it to the highest: for there you are forc'd to tell a downright fib, and hang me up in a light where no body ever saw me: as for example, speaking of the absurdity of theatrical pantomimes, you say _when lo! to dark encounter in mid air new wizards rise: here_ booth, _and_ cibber _there:_ booth, _in his cloudy tabernacle shrin'd, on grinning dragons_ cibber _mounts the wind._ if you, figuratively, mean by this, that i was an encourager of those fooleries, you are mistaken; for it is not true: if you intend it literally, that i was dunce enough to mount a machine, there is as little truth in that too: but if you meant it only as a pleasant abuse, you have done it with infinite drollery indeed! beside, the name of _cibber_, you know, always implies satyr in the sound, and never fails to keep the flatness or modesty of a verse in countenance. some pages after, indeed, in pretty near the same light, you seem to have a little negative kindness for me, _ver._ , where you make poor _settle_, lamenting his own fate, say, _but lo! in me, what authors have to brag on, reduc'd at last to hiss, in my own dragon, avert it, heav'n, that thou, or_ cibber _e'er should wag two serpent-tails in_ smithfield _fair._ if this does not imply, that you think me fit for little else, it is only another barren verse with my name in it: if it does mean so; why----i wish you may never be toss'd in a blanket, and so the kindness is even on both sides. but again you are at me, _ver._ , speaking of the king of dunces reign, you have these lines: _beneath whose reign,_ eusden _shall wear the bays,_ cibber _preside lord-chancellor of plays._ this i presume you offer as one of the heavy enormities of the stage-government, when i had a share in it. but as you have not given an instance in which this enormity appear'd, how is it possible (unless i had your talent of self-commendation) to bring any proofs in my favour? i must therefore submit it to publick judgment how full your reflexion hits, or is wide of me, and can only say to it in the mean time,--_valeat quantum valere potest_. in your remark upon the same lines you say, "_eusden_ no sooner died, but his place of laureat was supply'd by _cibber_, in the year , on which was made the following epigram." (may i not believe by yourself?) _in merry_ old england, _it once was a rule, the king had his poet, and also his fool. but now we're so frugal, i'd have you to know it, that_ cibber _can serve both for fool and for poet._ ay, marry sir! here you souse me with a witness! this is a triumph indeed! i can hardly help laughing at this myself; for, _se non e vero, ben trovato_! a good jest is a good thing, let it fall upon who it will: i dare say _cibber_ would never have complain'd of mr. _pope_, ----_si sic_ ----_omnia dixisset_------ juv. if he had never said any worse of him. but hold, master _cibber_! why may not you as well turn this pleasant epigram into an involuntary compliment? for a king's fool was no body's fool but his master's, and had not his name for nothing; as for example, _those fools of old, if fame says true, were chiefly chosen for their wit; why then, call'd fools? because, like you dear_ pope, _too bold in shewing it._ and so, if i am the king's fool; now, sir, pray whose fool are you? 'tis pity, methinks, you should be out of employment: for, if a satyrical intrepidity, or, as you somewhere call it, a _high courage of wit_, is the fairest pretence to be the _king's fool_, i don't know a wit in the world so fit to fill up the post as yourself. thus, sir, i have endeavour'd to shake off all the dirt in your _dunciad_, unless of here and there some little spots of your ill-will, that were not worth tiring the reader's patience with my notice of them. but i have some more foul way to trot through still, in your epistles and satyrs, _&c._ now whether i shall come home the filthy fellow, or the clean contrary man to what you make me, i will venture to leave to your own _conscience_, though i dare not make the same trust to your _wit_: for that you have often _spoke_ worse (merely to shew your wit) than you could possibly _think_ of me, almost all your readers, that observe your good-nature _will easily_ believe. however, to shew i am not blind to your merit, i own your epistle to dr. _arbuthnot_ (though i there find myself contemptibly spoken of) gives me more delight in the whole, than any one poem of the kind i ever read. the only prejudice or wrong bias of judgment, i am afraid i may be guilty of is, when i cannot help thinking, that your wit is more remarkably bare and barren, whenever it would fall foul upon _cibber_, than upon any other person or occasion whatsoever: i therefore could wish the reader may have sometimes considered those passages, that if i do you injustice, he may as justly condemn me for it. in this epistle ver. . of your folio edition, you seem to bless yourself, that you are not my friend! no wonder then, you rail at me! but let us see upon what occasion you own this felicity. speaking of an impertinent author, who teized you to recommend his _virgin tragedy_ to the stage, you at last happily got rid of him with this excuse---- _there (thank my stars) my whole commission ends,_ cibber _and i, are luckily no friends._ if you chose not to be mine, sir, it does not follow, that it was equally my choice not to be yours: but perhaps you thought me your enemy, because you were conscious you had injur'd me, and therefore were resolv'd never to forgive _me_, because i had it in my power to forgive _you_: for, as _dryden_ says, _forgiveness, to the injur'd does belong; but they ne'er pardon who have done the wrong._ this, sir, is the only natural excuse, i can form, for your being my enemy. as to your blunt assertion of my certain prejudice to any thing, that had your recommendation to the stage, which your above lines would insinuate; i gave you a late instance in _the miller of mansfield_, that your manner of treating me had in no sort any influence upon my judgment. for you may remember, sometime before that piece was acted, i accidentally met you, in a visit to the late general _dormer_, who, though he might be your good friend, was not for that reason the less a friend to me: there you join'd with that gentleman, in asking my advice and assistance in that author's behalf; which as i had read the piece, though i had then never seen the man, i gave, in such manner, as i thought might best serve him: and if i don't over-rate my recommendation, i believe its way to the stage was made the more easy by it. this fact, then, does in no kind make good your insinuation, that my enmity to you would not suffer me to like any thing that you liked; which though you call your good fortune in verse, yet in prose, you see, it happens not to be true. but i am glad to find, in your smaller edition, that your conscience has since given this line some correction; for there you have taken off a little of its edge; it there runs only thus---- the play'rs _and i, are luckily no friends._ this is so uncommon an instance, of your checking your temper and taking a little shame to yourself, that i could not in justice omit my notice of it. i am of opinion too, that the indecency of the next verse, you spill upon me, would admit of an equal correction. in excusing the freedom of your satyr, you urge that it galls no body, because nobody minds it enough to be mended by it. this is your plea---- _whom have i hurt! has poet yet, or peer, lost the arched eye-brow, or_ parnassian _sneer? and has not_ colley _too his lord, and whore?_ &c. if i thought the christian name of _colley_ could belong to any other man than myself, i would insist upon my right of not supposing you meant this last line to me; because it is equally applicable to five thousand other people: but as your good-will to me is a little too well known, to pass it as imaginable that you could intend it for any one else, i am afraid i must abide it. well then! _colley has his lord and whore!_ now suppose, sir, upon the same occasion, that _colley_ as happily inspired as mr. _pope_, had turned the same verse upon _him_, and with only the name changed had made it run thus-- _and has not_ sawney _too his lord and whore?_ would not the satyr have been equally just? or would any sober reader have seen more in the line, than a wide mouthful of ill-manners? or would my professing myself a satyrist give me a title to wipe my foul pen upon the face of every man i did not like? or would my impudence be less impudence in verse than in prose? or in private company? what ought i to expect less, than that you would knock me down for it? unless the happy weakness of my person might be my protection? why then may i not insist that _colley_ or _sawney_ in the verse would make no difference in the satyr! now let us examine how far there would be truth in it on either side. as to the first part of the charge, the _lord_; why--we have both had him, and sometimes the _same_ lord; but as there is neither vice nor folly in keeping our betters company; the wit or satyr of the verse! can only point at my lord for keeping such _ordinary_ company. well, but if so! then _why_ so, good mr. _pope_? if either of us could be _good_ company, our being professed poets, i hope would be no objection to my lord's sometimes making one with us? and though i don't pretend to write like you, yet all the requisites to make a good companion are not confined to poetry! no, sir, even a man's inoffensive follies and blunders may sometimes have their merits at the best table; and in those, i am sure, you won't pretend to vie with me: why then may not my lord be as much in the right, in his sometimes choosing _colley_ to laugh at, as at other times in his picking up _sawney_, whom he can only admire? thus far, then, i hope we are upon a par; for the lord, you see, will fit either of us. as to the latter charge, the _whore_, there indeed, i doubt you will have the better of me; for i must own, that i believe i know more of _your_ whoring than you do of _mine_; because i don't recollect that ever i made you the least confidence of _my_ amours, though i have been very near an eye-witness of _yours_----by the way, gentle reader, don't you think, to say only, _a man has his whore_, without some particular circumstances to aggravate the vice, is the flattest piece of satyr that ever fell from the formidable pen of mr. _pope_? because (_defendit numerus_) take the first ten thousand men you meet, and i believe, you would be no loser, if you betted ten to one that every single sinner of them, one with another, had been guilty of the same frailty. but as mr. _pope_ has so particularly picked me out of the number to make an example of: why may i not take the same liberty, and even single him out for another to keep me in countenance? he must excuse me, then, if in what i am going to relate, i am reduced to make bold with a little private conversation: but as he has shewn no mercy to _colley_, why should so unprovok'd an aggressor expect any for himself? and if truth hurts him, i can't help it. he may remember, then (or if he won't i will) when _button_'s coffee-house was in vogue, and so long ago, as when he had not translated above two or three books of _homer_; there was a late young nobleman (as much his _lord_ as mine) who had a good deal of wicked humour, and who, though he was fond of having wits in his company, was not so restrained by his conscience, but that he lov'd to laugh at any merry mischief he could do them: this noble wag, i say, in his usual _gayetè de coeur_, with another gentleman still in being, one evening slily seduced the celebrated mr. _pope_ as a wit, and myself as a laugher, to a certain house of carnal recreation, near the _hay-market_; where his lordship's frolick propos'd was to slip his little _homer_, as he call'd him, at a girl of the game, that he might see what sort of figure a man of his size, sobriety, and vigour (in verse) would make, when the frail fit of love had got into him; in which he so far succeeded, that the smirking damsel, who serv'd us with tea, happen'd to have charms sufficient to tempt the little-tiny manhood of mr. _pope_ into the next room with her: at which you may imagine, his lordship was in as much joy, at what might happen within, as our small friend could probably be in possession of it: but i (forgive me all ye mortified mortals whom his fell satyr has since fallen upon) observing he had staid as long as without hazard of his health he might, i, _prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,_ as _shakespear_ says, without ceremony, threw open the door upon him, where i found this little hasty hero, like a terrible _tom tit_, pertly perching upon the mount of love! but such was my surprize, that i fairly laid hold of his heels, and actually drew him down safe and sound from his danger. my lord, who staid tittering without, in hopes the sweet mischief he came for would have been compleated, upon my giving an account of the action within, began to curse, and call me an hundred silly puppies, for my impertinently spoiling the sport; to which with great gravity i reply'd; pray, my lord, consider what i have done was, in regard to the honour of our nation! for would you have had so glorious a work as that of making _homer_ speak elegant _english_, cut short by laying up our little gentleman of a malady, which his thin body might never have been cured of? no, my lord! _homer_ would have been too serious a sacrifice to our evening merriment. now as his _homer_ has since been so happily compleated, who can say, that the world may not have been obliged to the kindly care of _colley_ that so great a work ever came to perfection? and now again, gentle reader, let it be judged, whether the _lord_ and the _whore_ above-mention'd might not, with equal justice, have been apply'd to sober _sawney_ the satyrist, as to _colley_ the criminal? though i confess recrimination to be but a poor defence for one's own faults; yet when the guilty are accusers, it seems but just, to make use of any truth, that may invalidate their evidence: i therefore hope, whatever the serious reader may think amiss in this story, will be excused, by my being so hardly driven to tell it. i could wish too, it might be observed, that whatever faults i find with the morals of mr. _pope_, i charge none to his poetical capacity, but chiefly to his _ruling passion_, which is so much his master, that we must allow, his inimitable verse is generally warmest, where his too fond indulgence of that passion inspires it. how much brighter still might that genius shine, could it be equally inspired by good-nature! now though i may have less reason to complain of his severity, than many others, who may have less deserv'd it: yet by his crowding me into so many of his satyrs, it is plain his ill-will is oftner at work upon _cibber_, than upon any mortal he has had a mind to make a dunce, or a devil of: and as there are about half a score remaining verses, where _cibber_ still fills up the numbers, and which i have not yet produced, i think it will pretty near make good my observation: most of them, 'tis true, are so slight marks of his disfavour, that i can charge them with little more, than a mere idle liberty with my name; i shall therefore leave the greater part of them without farther observation to make the most of their meaning. some few of them however (perhaps from my want of judgment) seem so ambiguous, as to want a little explanation. in his first epistle of the second book of _horace_, ver. , speaking of the uncertainty of the publick judgment upon dramatick authors, after naming the best, he concludes his list of them thus: _but for the passions,_ southern _sure, and_ rowe. _these, only these support the crouded stage, from eldest_ heywood _down to_ cibber_'s age_. here he positively excludes _cibber_ from any share in supporting the stage as an author; and yet, in the lines immediately following, he seems to allow it him, by something so like a commendation, that if it be one, it is at the same time a contradiction to _cibber_'s being the dunce, which the _dunciad_ has made of him. but i appeal to the verses; here they are--_ver._ . _all this may be; the peoples voice is odd, it is, and it is not the voice of god. to_ gammer gurton _if it give the bays, and yet deny_ the careless husband _praise._ now if _the careless husband_ deserv'd praise, and had it, must it not (without comparing it with the works of the above-cited authors) have had its share in supporting the stage? which mr. _pope_ might as well have allow'd it to have had, as to have given it the commendation he seems to do: i say (_seems_) because is saying (_if_) the people deny'd it praise, seems to imply they _had_ deny'd it; or if they had _not_ deny'd it, (which is true) then his censure upon the people is false. upon the whole, the meaning of these verses stands in so confus'd a light, that i confess i don't clearly discern it. 'tis true, the late general _dormer_ intimated to me, that he believ'd mr. _pope_ intended them as a compliment to _the careless husband_; but if it be a compliment, i rather believe it was a compliment to that gentleman's good-nature, who told me a little before this epistle was publish'd, that he had been making interest for a little mercy to his friend _colley_ in it. but this, it seems, was all he could get for him: however, had his wit stopt here, and said no more of me, for that gentleman's sake, i might have thank'd him: but whatever restraint he might be under then, after this gentleman's decease we shall see he had none upon him: for now out comes a new _dunciad_, where, in the first twenty lines he takes a fresh _lick at the laureat_; as fidlers and prize-fighters always give us a flourish before they come to the tune or the battle in earnest. come then, let us see what your mighty mountain is in labour of? oh! here we have it! _new dun. ver._ . dulness mounts the throne, _&c._ and---- _soft in her lap her laureat son reclines._ hah! fast asleep it seems! no, that's a little too strong. _pert_ and _dull_ at least you might have allow'd me; but as seldom asleep as any fool.----sure your own eyes could not be open, when so lame and solemn a conceit came from you: what, am i only to be dull, and dull still, and again, and for ever? but this, i suppose, is one of your _decies repetita placebit_'s. for, in other words, you have really said this of me ten times before--no, it must be written in a dream, and according to _dryden_'s description of dead midnight too, where, among other strong images, he gives us this-- _even lust and_ envy _sleep._ now, sir, had not _your_ envy been as fast as a fat alderman in sermon-time, you would certainly have thrown out something more spirited than so trite a repetition could come up to. but it is the nature of malevolence, it seems, when it gets a spiteful saying by the end, not to be tired of it so soon as its hearers are.----well, and what then? you will say; it lets the world see at least, that you are resolv'd to write _about me_, and _about me_, to the last. in fine, mr. _pope_, this yawning wit would make one think you had got into the laureat's place, and were taking a nap yourself. but, perhaps, there may be a concealed brightness in this verse, which your notes may more plainly illustrate: let us see then what your fictitious friend and flatterer _scriblerus_ says to it. why, first he mangles a paragraph which he quotes from my _apology_ for my own life, _chap._ . and then makes his particular use of it. but as i have my uses to make of it as well as himself, i shall beg leave to give it the reader without his castrations. he begins it thus, "when i find my name in the satyrical works of this poet," _&c._ but i say,---- "when i, therefore, find my name, _at length_, in the satyrical works _of our most celebrated living author_"---- now, sir, i must beg your pardon, but i cannot think it was your meer modesty that left out the title i have given you, because you have so often suffer'd your friend _scriblerus_ (that is yourself) in your notes to make you compliments of a much higher nature. but, perhaps, you were unwilling to let the reader observe, that though you had so often befoul'd my name in your satyrs, i could still give you the language due to a gentleman, which, perhaps, at the same time too, might have put him in mind of the poor and pitiful return you have made to it. but to go on with our paragraph----he again continues it thus---- "i never look upon it as any malice meant to me, but profit to himself"---- but where is my parenthesis, mr. _filch_? if you are asham'd of it, i have no reason to be so, and therefore the reader shall have it: my sentence then runs thus---- "i never look upon those lines as malice meant to me (for he knows i never provok'd it) _&c._ these last words indeed might have star'd you too full in the face, not to have put your conscience out of countenance. but a wit of your intrepidity, i see, is above that vulgar weakness. after this sneaking omission, you have still the same scruple against some other lines in the text to come: but as you serve _your_ purposes by leaving them out, you must give me leave to serve _mine_ by supplying them. i shall therefore give the reader the rest entire, and only mark what you don't choose should be known in _italicks_, viz. "_one of his points must be to have many readers_: he considers, that my face and name are more known than _those of_ many _thousands of more consequence_ in the kingdom, that, therefore, _right or wrong_, a lick at the laureat will always be a sure bait, _ad captandum vulgus_, to catch him little readers: _and that to gratify the unlearned, by now and then interspersing those merry sacrifices of an old acquaintance to their taste, in a piece of quite right poetical craft_." now, sir, is there any thing in this paragraph (which you have so maim'd and sneer'd at) that, taken all together, could merit the injurious reception you have given it? ought i, for this, to have had the stale affront of _dull_, and _impudent_, repeated upon me? or could it have lessen'd the honour of your understanding, to have taken this quiet resentment of your frequent ill usage in good part? or had it not rather been a mark of your justice and generosity, not to have pursued me with fresh instances of your ill-will upon it? or, on the contrary, could you be so weak as to envy me the patience i was master of, and therefore could not bear to be, in any light, upon amicable terms with me? i hope your temper is not so unhappy as to be offended, or in pain, when your insults are return'd with civilities? or so vainly uncharitable as to value yourself for laughing at my folly, in supposing you never had any real malicious intention against me? no, you could not, sure, believe, the world would take it for granted, that _every_ low, vile thing you had said of me, was evidently _true_? how then can you hold me in such derision, for finding your freedom with my name, a better excuse than you yourself are able to give, or are willing to accept of? or, admitting, that my deceived opinion of your goodness was so much real simplicity and ignorance, was not even that, at least, pardonable? might it not have been taken in a more favourable sense by any man of the least candour or humanity? but--i am afraid, mr. _pope_, the severely different returns you have made to it, are indications of a heart i want a name for. upon the whole, while you are capable of giving such a trifling turn to my patience, i see but very little hopes of my ever removing your prejudice: for in your notes upon the above paragraph (to which i refer the reader) you treat me more like a rejected flatterer, than a critick: but, i hope, you now find that i have at least taken off that imputation, by my using no reserve in shewing the world from what you have said of _me_, what i think of _you_. had not therefore this last usage of me been so particular, i scarce believe the importunity of my friends, or the inclination i have to gratify them, would have prevailed with me to have taken this publick notice of whatever names you had formerly call'd me. i have but one article more of your high-spirited wit to examine, and then i shall close our account. in _ver._ of the same poem, you have this expression, _viz._ cibberian _forehead_------ by which i find you modestly mean _cibber_'s impudence; and, by the place it stands in, you offer it as a sample of the _strongest_ impudence.----sir, your humble servant----but pray, sir, in your epistle to dr. _arbuthnot_, (where, by the way, in your ample description of a great poet, you slily hook in a whole hat-full of virtues to your own character) have not you this particular line among them? _viz._ _and thought a_ lye, _in verse or prose the same._ now, sir, if you can get all your readers to believe me as impudent as you make me, your verse, with the lye in it, may have a good chance to be thought true: if _not_, the lye in your verse will never get out of it. this, i confess, is only arguing with the same confidence that you sometimes write; that is, we both flatly affirm, and equally expect to be believ'd. but here, indeed, your talent has something the better of me; for any accusation, in smooth verse, will always sound well, though it is not tied down to have a tittle of truth in it; when the strongest defence in poor humble prose, not having that harmonious advantage, takes no body by the ear: and yet every one must allow this may be very hard upon an innocent man: for suppose, in prose now, i were as confidently to insist, that you were an _honest, good-natur'd, inoffensive creature_, would my barely saying so be any proof of it? no, sure! why then might it not be suppos'd an equal truth, that both our assertions were equally false? _yours_, when you call me _impudent_; _mine_, when i call you _modest_, &c. if, indeed, you could say, that with a remarkable shyness, i had avoided any places of publick resort, or that i had there met with coldness, reproof, insult, or any of the usual rebuffs that impudence is liable to, or had been reduced to retire from that part of the world i had impudently offended, your _cibberian forehead_ then might have been as just and as sore a brand as the hangman could have apply'd to me. but as i am not yet under that misfortune, and while the general benevolence of my superiors still suffers me to stand my ground, or occasionally to sit down with them, i hope it will be thought that rather the _papal_, than the _cibberian_ forehead, ought to be out of countenance. but it is time to have done with you. in your advertisement to your first satyr of your second book of _horace_, you have this just observation. _to a true satyrist, nothing is so odious, as a libeller._ now, that you are often an admirable satyrist, no man of true taste can deny: but, that you are always a _true_ (that is a _just_) one, is a question not yet decided in your favour. i shall not take upon me to prove the injuries of your pen, which many candid readers, in the behalf of others, complain of: but if the gross things you have said of so inconsiderable a man as myself, have exceeded the limited province of a _true_ satyrist, they are sufficient to have forfeited your claim to that title. for if a man, from his being admitted the best poet, imagines himself so much lifted above the world, that he has a right to run a muck, and make sport with the characters of all ranks of people, to soil and begrime every face that is obnoxious to his ungovernable spleen or envy: can so vain, so inconsiderate, so elated an insolence, amongst all the follies he has lash'd, and laugh'd at, find a subject fitter for satyr than himself? how many other different good qualities ought such a temper to have in balance of this one bad one, this abuse of his genius, by so injurious a pride and self-sufficiency? and though it must be granted, that a true genius never grows in a barren soil, and therefore implies, that great parts and knowledge only could have produced it; yet it must be allow'd too, that the fairest fruits of the mind may lose a great deal of their naturally delicious taste, when blighted by ill-nature. how strict a guard then ought the _true_ satyrist to set upon his private passions! how clear a head! a heart how candid, how impartial, how incapable of injustice! what integrity of life, what general benevolence, what exemplary virtues ought that happy man to be master of, who, from such ample merit, raises himself to an office of that trust and dignity, as that of our universal censor? a man so qualified, indeed, might be a truly publick benefit, such a one, and only such a one, might have an uncontested right---- --------_to point the pen, brand the bold front of shameless, guilty men; dash the proud gamester, in his gilded car, bare the mean heart that lurks beneath a star._ but should another (though of equal genius) whose mind were either sour'd by ill-nature, personal prejudice, or the lust of railing, usurp that province to the abuse of it. not all his pompous power of verse could shield him from as odious a censure, as such, his guilty pen could throw upon the innocent, or undeserving to be slander'd. what then must be the consequence? why naturally this: that such an indulgence of his passions, so let loose upon the world, would, at last, reduce him to fly from it! for sure the avoidance, the slights, the scouling eyes of every mixt company he might fall into, would be a mortification no vain-glorious man would stand, that had a retreat from it. here then, let us suppose him an involuntary philosopher, affecting to be----_nunquam minus solus, quam cùm solus_----never in better company than when alone: but as you have well observed in your essay---- _not always_ actions _shew the man-- not therefore humble he, who seeks retreat, guilt guides his steps, and makes him shun the great._ (i beg your pardon, i have made a mistake; your verse says _pride_ guides his steps, _&c._ which, indeed, makes the antithesis to _humble_ much stronger, and more to your purpose; but it will serve mine as it is, so the error is scarce worth a correction.) but to return to our satyrical exile,----whom though we have supposed to be oftner alone, than an inoffensive man need wish to be; yet we must imagine that the fame of his wit would sometimes bring him company: for wits, like handsome women, though they wish one another at the devil, are my dear, and my dear! whenever they meet: nay some men are so fond of wit, that they would mix with the devil himself if they could laugh with him: if therefore any of this careless cast came to kill an hour with him, how would his smiling verse gloss over the curse of his confinement, and with a flowing animated vanity commemorate the peculiar honours they had paid him? but alas! would his high heart be contented, in his having the choice of his acquaintance so limited? how many for their friends, others for themselves, and some too in the dread of being the future objects of his spleen, would he feel had undesired the knowledge or the sight of him! but what's all this to you, mr. _pope_? for, as _shakespear_ says, _let the gall'd horse wince, our withers are unwrung_! but however, if it be not too late, it can do you no harm to look about you: for if this is not as yet your condition, i remember many years ago, to have seen you, though in a less degree, in a scrape, that then did not look, as if you would be long out of another. when you used to pass your hours at _button_'s, you were even there remarkable for your satyrical itch of provocation; scarce was there a gentleman of any pretension to wit, whom your unguarded temper had not fallen upon, in some biting epigram; among which you once caught a pastoral tartar, whose resentment, that your punishment might be proportion'd to the smart of your poetry, had stuck up a birchen rod in the room, to be ready, whenever you might come within reach of it; and at this rate you writ and rallied, and writ on, till you rhym'd yourself quite out of the coffee-house. but if solitude pleases you, who shall say you are not in the right to enjoy it? perhaps too, by this time you may be upon a par with mankind, and care as little for their company as they do for yours: though i rather hope you have chosen to be so shut up, in order to make yourself a better man. if you succeed in _that_, you will indeed be, what no body else, in haste will be, a better poet, than you _are_. and so, sir, i am, just as much as you believe me to be, _your humble servant_, colley cibber. _july_ the th . william andrews clark memorial library university of california, los angeles the augustan reprint society publications in print the augustan reprint society publications in print - . henry nevil payne, _the fatal jealousie_ ( ). . nicholas rowe, _some account of the life of mr. william shakespear_ ( ). . anonymous, "of genius," in _the occasional paper_, vol. iii, no. ( ), and aaron hill, preface to _the creation_ ( ). - . susanna centlivre, _the busie body_ ( ). . lewis theobald, _preface to the works of shakespeare_ ( ). . samuel johnson, _the vanity of human wishes_ ( ), and two _rambler_ papers ( ). . john dryden, _his majesties declaration defended_ ( ). - . charles macklin, _the man of the world_ ( ). . thomas gray, _an elegy wrote in a country churchyard_ ( ), and _the eton college manuscript_. - . bernard mandeville, _a letter to dion_ ( ). - . selected hymns taken out of mr. herbert's _temple ..._ ( ). - . sir william temple, _an essay upon the original and nature of government_ ( ). . john tutchin, _selected poems_ ( - ). . anonymous, _political justice_ ( ). . robert dodsley, _an essay on fable_ ( ). . t. r., _an essay concerning critical and curious learning_ ( ). . two poems against pope: leonard welsted, _one epistle to mr. a. pope_ ( ), and anonymous, _the blatant beast_ ( ). - . daniel defoe and others, _accounts of the apparition of mrs. veal_. . charles macklin, _the covent garden theatre_ ( ). . sir roger l'estrange, _citt and bumpkin_ ( ). . henry more, _enthusiasmus triumphatus_ ( ). . thomas traherne, _meditations on the six days of the creation_ ( ). . bernard mandeville, _aesop dress'd or a collection of fables_ ( ). - . edmond malone, _cursory observations on the poems attributed to mr. thomas rowley_ ( ). . anonymous, _the female wits_ ( ). . anonymous, _the scribleriad_ ( ). lord hervey, _the difference between verbal and practical virtue_ ( ). - . lawrence echard, _prefaces to terence's comedies_ ( ) and _plautus's comedies_ ( ). - . john courtenay, _a poetical review of the literary and moral character of the late samuel johnson_ ( ). . john downes, _roscius anglicanus_ ( ). . sir john hill, _hypochondriasis, a practical treatise_ ( ). . thomas sheridan, _discourse ... being introductory to his course of lectures on elocution and the english language_ ( ). . arthur murphy, _the englishman from paris_ ( ). - . [catherine trotter], _olinda's adventures_ ( ). . john ogilvie, _an essay on the lyric poetry of the ancients_ ( ). . _a learned dissertation on dumpling_ ( ) and _pudding burnt to pot or a compleat key to the dissertation on dumpling_ ( ). . selections from sir roger l'estrange's _observator_ ( - ). . anthony collins, _a discourse concerning ridicule and irony in writing_ ( ). . _a letter from a clergyman to his friend, with an account of the travels of captain lemuel gulliver_ ( ). . _the art of architecture, a poem. in imitation of horace's art of poetry_ ( ). - - . thomas shelton, _a tutor to tachygraphy, or short-writing_ ( ) and _tachygraphy_ ( ). - . _deformities of dr. samuel johnson_ ( ). . _poeta de tristibus: or the poet's complaint_ ( ). . gerard langbaine. _momus triumphans: or the plagiaries of the english stage_ ( ). - - . evan lloyd, _the methodist._ a poem ( ). . _are these things so?_ ( ), and _the great man's answer to are these things so?_ ( ). . arbuthnotiana: _the story of the st. albans ghost_ ( ), and _a catalogue of dr. arbuthnot's library_ ( ). - . a selection of emblems from herman hugo's _pia desideria_ ( ), with english adaptations by francis quarles and edmund arwaker. the augustan reprint society william andrews clark memorial library university of california, los angeles cimarron street (at west adams), los angeles, california publications of the first fifteen years of the society (numbers - ) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $ . per unit, from the kraus reprint company, east th street, new york, n. y. . publications in print are available at the regular membership rate of $ . for individuals and $ . for institutions per year. prices of single issues may be obtained upon request. subsequent publications may be checked in the annual prospectus. _make check or money order payable to_ the regents of the university of california transcriber's notes: passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. the following misprints have been corrected: "geniunely" corrected to "genuinely" (page iv) "copywright" corrected to "copyright" (page viii) "severly" corrected to "severely" (page ix) https://archive.org/details/apologyforlifeof cibb project gutenberg has the other volume of this work. volume ii: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/ an apology for the life of mr. colley cibber. _volume the first._ _note._ _ copies printed on this fine deckle-edge demy vo paper for england and america, with the portraits as india proofs after letters._ _each copy is numbered, and the type distributed._ _no._ [illustration: colley cibber.] an apology for the life of mr. colley cibber _written by himself_ a new edition with notes and supplement by robert w. lowe _with twenty-six original mezzotint portraits by r. b. parkes, and eighteen etchings by adolphe lalauze_ _in two volumes_ volume the first london john c. nimmo , king william street, strand mdccclxxxix chiswick press printed by charles whittingham and co. tooks court, chancery lane, london. e.c. preface. colley cibber's famous autobiography has always been recognized as one of the most delightful books of its class; but, to students of theatrical history, the charm of its author's ingenuous frankness has been unable altogether to overweigh the inaccuracy and vagueness of his treatment of matters of fact. to remove this cause of complaint is the principal object of the present edition. but correcting errors is only one of an editor's duties, and by no means the most difficult. more exacting, and almost equally important, are the illustration of the circumstances surrounding the author, the elucidation of his references to current events, and the comparison of his statements and theories with those of judicious contemporaries. in all these particulars i have interpreted my duty in the widest sense, and have aimed at giving, as far as in me lies, an exhaustive commentary on the "apology." i am fortunate in being able to claim that my work contains much information which has never before been made public. a careful investigation of the mss. in the british museum, and of the records of the lord chamberlain's office (to which my access was greatly facilitated by the kindness of mr. edward f. s. pigott, the licenser of plays), has enabled me to give the exact dates of many transactions which were previously uncertain, and to give references to documents of great importance in stage history, whose very existence was before unknown. how important my new matter is, may be estimated by comparing the facts given in my notes regarding the intricate transactions of the years to , with any previous history of the same period. among other sources of information, i may mention the cibber collections in the forster library at south kensington, to which my attention was drawn by the kindness of the courteous keeper, mr. r. f. sketchley; and i have also, of course, devoted much time to contemporary newspapers. in order to illustrate the "apology," two tracts of the utmost rarity, the "historia histrionica" and anthony aston's "brief supplement" to cibber's lives of the actors, are reprinted in this edition. the "historia histrionica" was written, all authorities agree, by james wright, barrister-at-law, whose "history and antiquities of the county of rutland" is quoted by cibber in his first chapter (vol. i. p. ). the historical value of this pamphlet is very great, because it contains the only formal account in existence of the generation of actors who preceded betterton, and because it gives many curious and interesting particulars regarding the theatres and plays, as well as the actors, before and during the civil wars. as cibber begins his account of the stage (see chap. iv.) at the restoration, there is a peculiar propriety in prefacing it by wright's work; a fact which has already been recognized, for the publisher of the third edition ( ) of the "apology" appended to it "a dialogue on old plays and old players," which is simply a reprint of the "historia histrionica" under another title, and without the curious preface. following the "historia histrionica" will be found a copy of the patent granted to sir william davenant, one of the most important documents in english stage history. a similar grant was made to thomas killigrew, as is noted on page of this volume. these documents form a natural introduction to cibber's history of the stage and of his own career, which commences, as has been said, at the restoration, and ends, somewhat abruptly, with his retirement from the regular exercise of his profession in . to complete the record of cibber's life, i have added a supplementary chapter to the "apology," in which i have also noted briefly the chief incidents of theatrical history up to the time of his death. in this, too, i have told with some degree of minuteness the story of his famous quarrel with pope; and to this chapter i have appended a list of cibber's dramatic productions, and a bibliography of works by, or relating to him. anthony aston's "brief supplement to colley cibber, esq; his lives of the late famous actors and actresses," of which a reprint is given with this edition, is almost, if not quite, the rarest of theatrical books. isaac reed, says genest, "wrote his name in his copy of aston's little book, with the date of --he says--'this pamphlet contains several circumstances concerning the performers of the last century, which are no where else to be found--it seems never to have been published'--he adds-'easter monday, --though i have now possessed this pamphlet years, it is remarkable that i never have seen another copy of it.'" of aston himself, little is known. according to his own account he came on the stage about , and we know that he was a noted stroller; but as to when he was born, or when he died, there is no information. he is supposed, and probably with justice, to be the "trusty anthony, who has so often adorned both the theatres in england and ireland," mentioned in estcourt's advertisement of his opening of the bumper tavern, in the "spectator" of th and th december, ; and he was no doubt a well-known character among actors and theatre-goers. he would thus be well qualified for his undertaking as biographer of the actors of his time; and, indeed, his work bears every mark of being the production of a writer thoroughly well acquainted with his subject. this valuable pamphlet has been, until now practically a sealed book to theatrical students. the three works which make up this edition--cibber's "apology," wright's "historia histrionica," and aston's "brief supplement"--are reprinted _verbatim et literatim;_ the only alterations made being the correction of obvious errors. among obvious errors i include the avalanche of commas with which cibber's printers overwhelmed his text. a more grotesque misuse of punctuation i do not know, and i have struck out a large number of these points, not only because they were unmeaning, but also because, to a modern reader, they were irritating in the highest degree. the rest of the punctuation i have not interfered with, and with the single exception of these commas the present edition reproduces not only the matter of the works reprinted, but the very manner in which they originally appeared, the use of italics and capitals having especially been carefully observed. the "apology" of cibber has gone through six editions. i have reprinted the text of the second, because it was certainly revised by the author, and many corrections made. but i have carefully compared my text with that of the first edition, and, wherever the correction is more than merely verbal, i have indicated the fact in a note (_e. g._ vol. i. p. ). the only edition which has been annotated is that published in , under the editorship of edmund bellchambers. whether the notes were written by the editor or by jacob henry burn, who annotated dickens's "grimaldi," is a point which i have raised in my "bibliographical account of english theatrical literature" (p. ). i have been unable to obtain any authentic information on the subject, so give burn's claim for what it is worth. the statement as to the latter's authorship was made in his own handwriting on the back of the title-page of a copy of the book, sold by a well-known bookseller some years ago. it was in the following terms:-- "in , while residing at no. , maiden lane, covent garden, the elder oxberry, who frequently called in as he passed, found me one day adding notes in ms. to cibber's 'apology.' taking it up, he said he should like to reprint it; he wanted something to employ the spare time of his hands, and proferred to buy my copy, thus annotated. i think it was two pounds i said he should have it for; this sum he instantly paid, and the notes throughout are mine, not bellchambers's, who having seen it through the press or corrected the proofs whilst printing, added his name as the editor.--j. h. burn." whether burn or bellchambers be the author, the notes, i find, are by no means faultlessly accurate. i have made little use of them, except that the biographies, which are by far the most valuable of the annotations, are reprinted at the end of my second volume. even in these, it will be seen, i have corrected many blunders. some of the memoirs i have condensed slightly; and, as the biographies of booth, dogget, and wilks were in all essential points merely a repetition of cibber's narrative, i have not reprinted them. in all cases where i have made any use of bellchambers's edition, or have had a reference suggested to me by it, i have carefully acknowledged my indebtedness. among the works of contemporary writers which i have quoted, either in illustration, in criticism, or in contradiction of cibber, it will be noticed that i make large drafts upon the anonymous pamphlet entitled "the laureat: or, the right side of colley cibber, esq;" ( ). i have done this because it furnishes the keenest criticism upon cibber's statements, and gives, in an undeniably clever style, the views of cibber's enemies upon himself and his works. i am unable even to guess who was the author of this work, but he must have been a man well acquainted with theatrical matters. another pamphlet from which i quote, "the egotist: or, colley upon cibber" ( ), is interesting as being, i think without doubt, the work of cibber himself, although not acknowledged by him. many of the works which i quote in my notes have gone through only one edition, and my quotations from these are easily traced; but, for the convenience of those who may wish to follow up any of my references to books which have been more than once issued, i may mention that in the case of davies's "dramatic miscellanies" i have referred throughout to the edition of ; that dr. birkbeck hill's magnificent edition of boswell's "life of johnson" is that which i have quoted; and that the references to nichols's reprint of steele's "theatre," the "anti-theatre," &c., are to the scarce and valuable edition in vols. mo, . my quotations from the "tatler" have been made from a set of the original folio numbers, which i am fortunate enough to possess; and i have made my extracts from the "roscius anglicanus" from mr. joseph knight's beautiful facsimile edition. the index, which will be found at the end of the second volume, has been the object of my special attention, and i have spared no pains to make it clear and exhaustive. robert w. lowe. london, _september, _. publisher's preface. the twenty-six portraits and eighteen chapter headings in this new edition of colley cibber's "apology" are all newly engraved. the portraits are copperplate mezzotints, engraved by r. b. parkes from the best and most authentic originals, in the selection of which great care has been taken. where more than one portrait exists, the least hackneyed likeness has been chosen, and pains have been taken to secure those pictures which are likely to be esteemed as rarities. the chapter headings are etched by adolphe lalauze, and the subjects represent scenes from plays illustrating the costumes, manner, and appearance of the actors of cibber's period, from contemporary authorities. london, _october, _. contents. page historia histrionica: an historical account of the english stage xix letters patent for erecting a new theatre liii title and dedication to the life of mr. colley cibber lxiii chapter i. the introduction. the author's birth, etc. chapter ii. he that trites of himself not easily tir'd, etc. chapter iii. the author's several chances for the church, the court, and the army, etc. chapter iv. a short view of the stage, from the year to the revolution, etc. chapter v. the theatrical characters of the principal actors in the year , continu'd, etc. chapter vi. the author's first step upon the stage. his discouragements, etc. chapter vii. the state of the stage continued, etc. chapter viii. the patentee of drury-lane wiser than his actors, etc. chapter ix. a small apology for writing on, etc. list of mezzotint portraits. newly engraved by r. b. parkes. volume the first. page i. colley cibber. after the painting by john baptist vanloo, _frontispiece_ ii. caius gabriel cibber, the sculptor, father of colley cibber. after the picture by laroon and christian richter. (collection of the earl of orford, strawberry hill) iii. thomas betterton. after the painting by sir godfrey kneller iv. benjamin johnson, in the character of ananias, in ben jonson's "alchemist," act iii. after the picture by peter van bleeck, v. edward kynaston, comedian. after r. cooper. vi. anthony leigh, in the character of the friar, in dryden's tragi-comedy of "the spanish friar." after the painting by sir godfrey kneller vii. elizabeth barry. after the painting by sir godfrey kneller, . (collection of the earl of orford, strawberry hill) viii. mrs. bracegirdle as "the indian queen," in the play by sir r. howard and j. dryden. after the picture by j. smith and w. vincent ix. william bullock. after the picture by thomas johnson. _ad vivum pinxit et fecit_ x. william penkethman. after the painting by r. schmutz xi. william congreve. after the painting by sir godfrey kneller, , "kit-cat club" xii. charlotte charke. after a study by henry gravelot xiii. sir john vanbrugh. after the painting by sir godfrey kneller, "kit-cat club" list of chapter headings. newly etched from contemporary drawings by adolphe lalauze. volume the first. i. caius gabriel cibber's figures of raving and melancholy madness. from bedlam hospital.[ ] ii. scene illustrating crowne's "sir courtly nice." after the contemporary design by arnold vanhaecken. iii. scene illustrating etheredge's "man of mode; or, sir fopling flutter." after the design by lud. du guernier. iv. scene illustrating congreve's "double dealer." after f. hayman. v. griffin and johnson in the characters of tribulation and ananias, ben jonson's "alchemist," act iii. scene . tribulation. "i do command thee (spirit of zeal, but trouble) to peace, within him." after the original by peter van bleeck, . vi. scene illustrating otway's "orphan." after the contemporary etching by g. vander gucht. vii. mrs. porter, mills, and cibber. after a contemporary engraving by j. basire. viii. scene illustrating steele's "funeral, or grief Ã� la mode." after the contemporary design by g. vander gucht. ix. mr. estcourt as "kite" in farquhar's "recruiting officer." after the contemporary design by e. knight and g. vander gucht. historia histrionica: an historical account of the english stage, shewing the ancient use, improvement, and perfection, of dramatick representations, in this nation. in a dialogue, of _plays_ and _players._ ----_olim meminisse juvabit._ _london._ printed by _g. croom,_ for _william haws_ at the rose in _ludgate-street_. . the preface. _much has been writ of late_ pro _and_ con, _about the stage, yet the subject admits of more, and that which has not been hetherto toucht upon; not only what that is, but what it was, about which some people have made such a busle. what it is we see, and i think it has been sufficiently displayed in mr._ collier'_s book; what it was in former ages, and how used in this kingdom, so far back as one may collect any memorialls, is the subject of the following dialogue. old plays will be always read by the_ curious, _if it were only to discover the manners and behaviour of several ages; and how they alter'd. for plays are exactly like_ portraits _drawn in the garb and fashion of the time when painted. you see one habit in the time of king_ charles i. _another quite different from that, both for men and women, in queen_ elizabeths _time; another under_ henry _the eighth different from both; and so backward all various. and in the several fashions of behaviour and conversation, there is as much mutability as in that of cloaths. religion and religious matters was once as much the mode in publick entertainments, as the contrary has been in some times since. this appears in the different plays of several ages: and to evince this, the following sheets are an essay or specimen._ _some may think the subject of this discourse trivial, and the persons herein mention'd not worth remembering. but besides that i could name some things contested of late with great heat, of as little, or less consequence, the reader may know that the profession of players is not so totally scandalous, nor all of them so reprobate, but that there has been found under that name, a canonized saint in the primitive church; as may be seen in the_ roman martyrology _on the_ th _of_ march; _his name_ masculas _a master of interludes_, (_the latin is_ archimimus, _and the french translation_ un maitre comedien) _who under the persecution of the_ vandals _in_ africa, _by_ geisericus _the_ arian _king, having endured many and greivious torments and reproaches for the confession of the truth, finisht the course of this glorious combat. saith the said_ martyrology. _it appears from this, and some further instances in the following discourse, that there have been players of worthy principles as to religion, loyalty, and other virtues; and if the major part of them fall under a different character, it is the general unhappiness of mankind, that the_ most _are the_ worst. a dialogue of plays and players. lovewit, truman. lovew. honest old cavalier! well met, 'faith i'm glad to see thee. trum. have a care what you call me. old, is a word of disgrace among the ladies; to be honest is to be poor, and foolish, (as some think) and cavalier is a word as much out of fashion as any of 'em. lovew. the more's the pity: but what said the fortune-teller in _ben. johnson_'s mask of _gypsies_, to the then _lord privy seal_, _honest and old!_ _in those the_ good _part of a fortune is told_. trum. _ben. johnson?_ how dare you name _ben. johnson_ in these times? when we have such a crowd of poets of a quite different genius; the least of which thinks himself as well able to correct _ben. johnson_, as he could a country school mistress that taught to spell. lovew. we have indeed, poets of a different genius; so are the plays: but in my opinion, they are all of 'em (some few excepted) as much inferior to those of former times, as the actors now in being (generally speaking) are, compared to _hart_, _mohun_, _burt_, _lacy_, _clun_, and _shatterel_; for i can reach no farther backward. trum. i can; and dare assure you, if my fancy and memory are not partial (for men of my age are apt to be over indulgent to the thoughts of their youthful days) i say the actors that i have seen before the wars, _lowin_, _tayler_, _pollard_, and some others, were almost as far beyond _hart_ and his company, as those were beyond these now in being. lovew. i am willing to believe it, but cannot readily; because i have been told, that those whom i mention'd, were bred up under the others of your acquaintance, and follow'd their manner of action, which is now lost. so far, that when the question has been askt, why these players do not revive the _silent woman_, and some other of _johnson_'s plays, (once of highest esteem) they have answer'd, truly, because there are none now living who can rightly humour those parts; for all who related to the _black-friers_, (where they were acted in perfection) are now dead, and almost forgotten. trum. 'tis very true, _hart_ and _clun_, were bred up boys at the _black-friers_, and acted womens parts, _hart_ was _robinson_'s boy or apprentice: he acted the dutchess in the tragedy of _the cardinal_, which was the first part that gave him reputation. _cartwright_, and _wintershal_ belong'd to the private house in _salisbury-court_, _burt_ was a boy first under _shank_ at the _black-friers_, then under _beeston_ at the _cockpit_; and _mohun_, and _shatterel_ were in the same condition with him, at the last place. there _burt_ used to play the principal women's parts, in particular _clariana_ in _love's cruelty_; and at the same time _mohun_ acted _bellamente_, which part he retain'd after the restauration. lovew. that i have seen, and can well remember. i wish they had printed in the last age (so i call the times before the rebellion) the actors names over against the parts they acted, as they have done since the restauration. and thus one might have guest at the action of the men, by the parts which we now read in the old plays. trum. it was not the custome and usage of those days, as it hath been since. yet some few old plays there are that have the names set against the parts, as, _the dutchess of malfy_; _the picture_; _the roman actor_; _the deserving favourite_; _the wild goose chace_, (at the black-friers) _the wedding_; _the renegado_; _the fair maid of the west_; _hannibal and scipio_; _king john and matilda_; (at the cockpit) and _holland's leaguer_, (at salisbury court). lovew. these are but few indeed: but pray sir, hat master-parts can you remember the old _black-friers_ men to act, in _johnson_, _shakespear_, and _fletcher_'s plays. trum. what i can at present recollect i'll tell you; _shakespear_, (who as i have heard, was a much better poet, than player) _burbadge_, _hemmings_, and others of the older sort, were dead before i knew the town; but in my time, before the wars, _lowin_ used to act, with mighty applause, _falstaffe_, _morose_, _volpone_, and _mammon_ in the _alchymist_; _melancius_, in the _maid's_ tragedy, and at the same time _amyntor_ was play'd by _stephen hammerton_, (who was at first a most noted and beautiful woman actor, but afterwards he acted with equal grace and applause, a young lover's part); _tayler_ acted _hamlet_ incomparably well, _iago_, _truewit_ in the _silent woman_, and _face_ in the _alchymist_; _swanston_ used to play _othello_; _pollard_, and _robinson_ were comedians, so was _shank_ who us'd to act sir _roger_, in _the scornful lady_. these were of the _black-friers_. those of principal note at the _cockpit_, were, _perkins_, _michael bowyer_, _sumner_, _william allen_, and _bird_, eminent actors, and _robins_ a comedian. of the other companies i took little notice. lovew. were there so many companies? trum. before the wars, there were in being all these play-houses at the same time. the _black-friers_, and _globe_ on the _bankside_, a winter and summer house, belonging to the same company, called the king's servants; the _cockpit_ or _phoenix_, in _drury-lane_, called the queen's servants; the private house in _salisbury-court_, called the prince's servants; the _fortune_ near _white-cross-street_, and the _red bull_ at the upper end of st. _john's-street_: the two last were mostly frequented by citizens, and the meaner sort of people. all these companies got money, and liv'd in reputation, especially those of the _black-friers_, who were men of grave and sober behaviour. lovew. which i admire at; that the town much less than at present, could then maintain five companies, and yet now two can hardly subsist. trum. do not wonder, but consider, that tho' the town was then, perhaps, not much more than half so populous as now, yet then the prices were small (there being no scenes) and better order kept among the company that came; which made very good people think a play an innocent diversion for an idle hour or two, the plays themselves being then, for the most part, more instructive and moral. whereas of late, the play-houses are so extreamly pestered with vizard-masks and their trade, (occasioning continual quarrels and abuses) that many of the more civilized part of the town are uneasy in the company, and shun the theater as they would a house of scandal. it is an argument of the worth of the plays and actors, of the last age, and easily inferr'd, that they were much beyond ours in this, to consider that they cou'd support themselves meerly from their own merit; the weight of the matter, and goodness of the action, without scenes and machines: whereas the present plays with all that shew, can hardly draw an audience, unless there be the additional invitation of a _signior fideli_, a _monsieur l'abbe_, or some such foreign regale exprest in the bottom of the bill. lovew. to wave this digression, i have read of one _edward allin_, a man so famed for excellent action, that among _ben. johnson_'s epigrams, i find one directed to him, full of encomium, and concluding thus, _wear this renown, 'tis just that who did give so many poets life, by one should live._ was he one of the _black-friers_? trum. never, as i have heard; (for he was dead before my time). he was master of a company of his own, for whom he built the _fortune_ playhouse from the ground, a large, round brick building. this is he that grew so rich that he purchased a great estate in _surrey_ and elsewhere; and having no issue, he built and largely endow'd _dulwich_ college, in the year , for a master, a warden, four fellows, twelve aged poor people, and twelve poor boys, _&c._ a noble charity. lovew. what kind of playhouses had they before the wars? trum. the _black-friers_, _cockpit_, and _salisbury-court_, were called private houses, and were very small to what we see now. the _cockpit_ was standing since the restauration, and _rhode_'s company acted there for some time. lovew. i have seen that. trum. then you have seen the other two, in effect; for they were all three built almost exactly alike, for form and bigness. here they had pits for the gentry, and acted by candle-light. the _globe_, _fortune_ and _bull_, were large houses, and lay partly open to the weather, and there they alwaies acted by daylight. lovew. but, prithee, _truman_, what became of these players when the stage was put down, and the rebellion rais'd? trum. most of 'em, except _lowin_, _tayler_ and _pollard_ (who were superannuated) went into the king's army, and like good men and true, serv'd their old master, tho' in a different, yet more honourable, capacity. _robinson_ was kill'd at the taking of a place, (i think _basing house_) by _harrison_, he that was after hang'd at _charing-cross_, who refused him quarter, and shot him in the head when he had laid down his arms; abusing scripture at the same time, in saying, _cursed is he that doth the work of the lord negligently_. _mohun_ was a captain, (and after the wars were ended here, served in _flanders_ where he received pay as a major), _hart_ was a lieutenant of horse under sir _thomas dallison_, in _prince rupert_'s regiment, _burt_ was cornet in the same troop, and _shatterel_ quarter-master. _allen_ of the _cockpit_, was a major, and quarter master general at _oxford_. i have not heard of one of these players of any note that sided with the other party, but only _swanston_, and he profest himself a presbyterian, took up the trade of a jeweller, and liv'd in _aldermanbury_, within the territory of father _calamy_. the rest either lost, or expos'd their lives for their king. when the wars were over, and the royalists totally subdued, most of 'em who were left alive gather'd to _london_, and for a subsistence endeavour'd to revive their old trade, privately. they made up one company out of all the scatter'd members of several; and in the winter before the king's murder, , they ventured to act some plays with as much caution and privacy as you'd be, at the _cockpit_. they continu'd undisturbed for three or four days; but at last as they were presenting the tragedy of the _bloudy brother_ (in which _lowin_ acted aubrey, _tayler_ rollo, _pollard_ the cook, _burt_ latorch, and i think _hart_ otto) a party of foot souldiers beset the house, surpriz'd 'em about the midle of the play, and carried 'em away in their habits, not admitting them to shift, to _hatton-house_, then a prison, where having detain'd them some time, they plunder'd them of their cloths and let 'em loose again. afterwards in _oliver_'s time, they used to act privately, three or four miles, or more, out of town, now here, now there, sometimes in noblemens houses, in particular _holland-house_ at _kensington_, where the nobility and gentry who met (but in no great numbers) used to make a sum for them, each giving a broad peice, or the like. and _alexander goffe_, the woman actor at _black-friers_ (who had made himself known to persons of quality) used to be the jackal, and give notice of time and place. at christmass, and bartlemew-fair, they used to bribe the officer who commanded the guard at _whitehall_, and were thereupon connived at to act for a few days, at the _red bull_; but were sometimes notwithstanding disturb'd by soldiers. some pickt up a little money by publishing the copies of plays never before printed, but kept up in manuscript. for instance, in the year , _beaumont_ and _fletcher's wild goose chace_ was printed in folio, _for the public use of all the ingenious_, (as the title-page says) _and private benefit of_ john lowin _and_ joseph tayler, _servants to his late majesty_; and by them dedicated _to the honour'd few lovers of dramatick poesy_: wherein they modestly intimate their wants. and that with sufficient cause; for whatever they were before the wars, they were, after, reduced to a necessitous condition. _lowin_ in his latter days, kept an inn (the three pidgions) at _brentford_, where he dyed very old, (for he was an actor of eminent note in the reign of k. _james_ the first) and his poverty was as great as his age. _tayler_ dyed at _richmond_ and was there buried. _pollard_ who lived single, and had a competent estate; retired to some relations he had in the country, and there ended his life. _perkins_ and _sumner_ of the _cockpit_, kept house together at _clerkenwel_, and were there buried. these all dyed some years before the restauration. what follow'd after, i need not tell you: you can easily remember. lovew. yes, presently after the restauration, the king's players acted publickly at the _red bull_ for some time, and then removed to a new-built playhouse in _vere-street_, by _claremarket_. there they continued for a year or two, and then removed to the _theater royal_ in _drury-lane_, where they first made use of scenes, which had been a little before introduced upon the publick stage by sir _william davenant_ at the _dukes old theater_ in _lincolns-inn-fields_, but afterwards very much improved, with the addition of curious machines, by mr. _betterton_ at the new _theater_ in _dorset-garden_, to the great expence and continual charge of the players. this much impair'd their profit o'er what it was before; for i have been inform'd, (by one of 'em) that for several years next after the restauration, every whole sharer in mr. _hart_'s company, got _l. per an._ about the same time that scenes first enter'd upon the stage at _london_, women were taught to act their own parts; since when, we have seen at both houses several excellent actresses, justly famed as well for beauty, as perfect good action. and some plays (in particular _the parson's wedding_) have been presented all by women, as formerly all by men. thus it continued for about years, when mr. _hart_ and some of the old men began to grow weary, and were minded to leave off; then the two companies thought fit to unite; but of late, you see, they have thought it no less fit to divide again, though both companies keep the same name of his majesty's servants. all this while the play-house musick improved yearly, and is now arrived to greater perfection than ever i knew it. yet for all these advantages, the reputation of the stage, and peoples affection to it, are much decay'd. some were lately severe against it, and would hardly allow stage-plays fit to be longer permitted. have you seen mr. _collier_'s book? trum. yes, and his opposer's. lovew. and what think you? trum. in my mind mr. _collier_'s reflections are pertinent, and true in the main; the book ingeniously writ, and well intended: but he has over-shot himself in some places; and his respondents, perhaps, in more. my affection inclines me not to engage on either side, but rather mediate. if there be abuses relating to the stage; (which i think is too apparent) let the abuse be reformed, and not the use, for that reason only, abolish'd. 'twas an old saying when i was a boy, _absit abusus, non desit totaliter usus._ i shall not run through mr. _collier_'s book; i will only touch a little on two or three general notions, in which, i think he may be mistaken. what he urges out of the primitive councils, and fathers of the church, seems to me to be directed against the heathen plays, which were a sort of religious worship with them, to the honour of _ceres_, _flora_, or some of their false deities; they had always a little altar on their stages, as appears plain enough from some places in _plautus_. and mr. _collier_ himself, p. , tells us out of _livy_, that plays were brought in upon the score of religion, to pacify the gods. no wonder then, they forbid christians to be present at them, for it was almost the same as to be present at their sacrifices. we must also observe that this was in the infancy of christianity, when the church was under severe, and almost continual persecutions, and when all its true members were of most strict and exemplary lives, not knowing when they should be call'd to the stake, or thrown to wild-beasts. they communicated daily, and expected death hourly; their thoughts were intent upon the next world, they abstain'd almost wholly from all diversions and pleasures (though lawfull and innocent) in this. afterwards when persecution ceased, and the church flourisht, christians being then freed from their former terrors, allow'd themselves, at proper times, the lawfull recreations of conversation, and among other (no doubt) this of shewes and representations. after this time, the censures of the church indeed, might be continued, or revived, upon occasion, against plays and players; tho' (in my opinion) it cannot be understood generally, but only against such players who were of vicious and licencious lives, and represented profane subjects, inconsistant with the morals and probity of manners requisite to christians; and frequented chiefly by such loose and debaucht people, as were much more apt to corrupt than divert those who associated with them. i say, i cannot think the canons and censures of the fathers can be applyed to all players, _quatenus_ players; for if so how could plays be continued among the christians, as they were, of divine subjects, and scriptural stories? a late french author, speaking of the original of the _hotel de bourgogne_ (a play-house in _paris_) says that the ancient dukes of that name gave it to the brotherhood of the passion, established in the church of trinity-hospital in the _rue s. denis_, on condition that they should represent here interludes of devotion: and adds that there have been public shews in this place years ago. the spanish and portuguize continue still to have, for the most part, such ecclesiastical stories, for the subject of their plays: and, if we may believe _gage_, they are acted in their churches in _mexico_, and the spanish _west-indies_. lovew. that's a great way off, _truman_; i had rather you would come nearer home, and confine your discourse to old _england_. trum. so i intend. the same has been done here in _england_; for otherwise how comes it to be prohibited in the _ th_ canon, among those past in convocation, . certain it is that our ancient plays were of religious subjects, and had for their actors, (if not priests) yet men relating to the church. lovew. how does that appear? trum. nothing clearer. _stow_ in his survey of _london_, has one chapter _of the sports and pastimes of old time used in this city_; and there he tells us, that in the year (which was _r._ .) a stage-play was play'd by the parish-clerks of _london_, at the _skinner's-well_ beside _smithfield_, which play continued, three days together, the king, queen, and nobles of the realm being present. and another was play'd in the year , ( _h._ .) which lasted eight days, and was of matter from the creation of the world; whereat was present most part of the nobility and gentry of _england_. sir _william dugdale_, in his antiquities of _warwickshire_, p. , speaking of the _gray-friers_ (or _franciscans_) at _coventry_, says, before the suppression of the monasteries, this city was very famous for the pageants that were play'd therein upon _corpus-christi_ day; which pageants being acted with mighty state and reverence by the friers of this house, had theatres for the several scenes very large and high, plac'd upon wheels, and drawn to all the eminent parts of the city, for the better advantage of the spectators; and contain'd the story of the new testament, composed in old english rhime. an ancient manuscript of the same is now to be seen in the _cottonian_ library, _sub effig. vespat. d._ . since the reformation, in queen _elizabeth's_ time, plays were frequently acted by quiristers and singing boys; and several of our old comedies have printed in the title page, _acted by the children of_ paul's, (not the school, but the church) others, _by the children of her majesty's chappel_; in particular, _cinthias revels_, and the _poetaster_ were play'd by them; who were at that time famous for good action. among _ben. johnson_'s epigrams you may find _an epitaph on s. p._ (sal pavy) _one of the children of queen_ elizabeth's _chappel_, part of which runs thus, _years he counted scarce thirteen when fates turn'd cruel, yet three fill'd zodiacks he had been the stages jewell; and did act (what now we moan) old men so duly, as, sooth, the_ parcæ _thought him one, he play'd so truly._ some of these chappel boys, when they grew men, became actors at the _black-friers_; such were _nathan feild_, and _john underwood_. now i can hardly imagine that such plays and players as these, are included in the severe censure of the councils and fathers; but such only who are truly within the character given by _didacus de tapia_, cited by mr. _collier_, p. , _viz. the infamous playhouse_; _a place of contradiction to the strictness and sobriety of religion_; _a place hated by god, and haunted by the devil_. and for such i have as great an abhorrance as any man. lovew. can you guess of what antiquity the representing of religious matters, on the stage, hath been in _england_? trum. how long before the conquest i know not, but that it was used in _london_ not long after, appears by _fitz-stevens_, an author who wrote in the reign of king _henry_ the second. his words are, _londonia pro spectaculis theatralibus, pro ludis scenicis, ludos habet sanctiores, representationes miraculorum, quæ sancti confessores operati sunt, seu representationes passionum quibus claruit constantia martyrum_. of this, the manuscript which i lately mention'd, in the _cottonian_ library, is a notable instance. sir _william dugdale_ cites this manuscript, by the title of _ludus coventriæ_; but in the printed catalogue of that library, p. , it is named thus, _a collection of plays in old english metre,_ h. e. _dramata sacra in quibus exhibentur historiæ veteris & n. testamenti, introductis quasi in scenam personis illic memoratis, quas secum invicem colloquentes pro ingenio fingit poeta. videntur olim coram populo, sive ad instruendum sive ad placendum, a fratribus mendicantibus repræsentata._ it appears by the latter end of the prologue, that these plays or interludes, were not only play'd at _coventry_, but in other towns and places upon occasion. and possibly this may be the same play which _stow_ tells us was play'd in the reign of king _henry_ iv., which lasted for eight days. the book seems by the character and language to be at least years old. it begins with a general prologue, giving the arguments of pageants or gesticulations (which were as so many several acts or scenes) representing all the histories of both testaments, from the creation, to the choosing of st. _mathias_ to be an apostle. the stories of the new testament are more largely exprest, _viz._ the annunciation, nativity, visitation; but more especially all matters relating to the passion very particularly, the resurrection, ascention, the choice of st. _mathias_: after which is also represented the assumption, and last judgment. all these things were treated of in a very homely style, (as we now think) infinitely below the dignity of the subject: but it seems the gust of that age was not so nice and delicate in these matters; the plain and incurious judgment of our ancestors, being prepared with favour, and taking every thing by the right and easiest handle: for example, in the scene relating to the visitation: _maria._ but husband of oo thyng pray you most mekely, i haue knowing that our cosyn elizabeth with childe is, that it please yow to go to her hastyly, if ought we myth comfort her it wer to me blys. _joseph._ a gods sake, is she with child, sche? than will her husband zachary be mery. in montana they dwelle, fer hence, so moty the, in the city of juda, i know it verily; it is hence i trowe myles two a fifty, we ar like to be wery or we come at the same. i wole with a good will, blessyd wyff mary; now go we forth then in goddys name, &c. a little before the resurrection: _nunc dormient milites, & veniet anima christi de inferno, cum_ adam & eva, abraham, john baptist, _& aliis._ _anima christi._ come forth adam, and eve with the, and all my fryndes that herein be, in paradys come forth with me in blysse for to dwelle. the fende of hell that is yowr foo he shall be wrappyd and woundyn in woo: fro wo to welth now shall ye go, with myrth euer mor to melle. _adam._ i thank the lord of thy grete grace that now is forgiuen my gret trespace, now shall we dwellyn in blyssful pace, &c. the last scene or pageant, which represents the day of judgment, begins thus: _michael._ _surgite_, all men aryse, _venite ad judicium_, for now is set the high justice, and hath assignyd the day of dome: kepe you redyly to this grett assyse, both gret and small, all and sum, and of yowr answer you now advise, what you shall say when that yow com, &c. these and such like, were the plays which in former ages were presented publickly: whether they had any settled and constant houses for that purpose, does not appear; i suppose not. but it is notorious that in former times there was hardly ever any solemn reception of princes, or noble persons, but pageants (that is stages erected in the open street) were part of the entertainment. on which there were speeches by one or more persons, in the nature of scenes; and be sure one of the speakers must be some saint of the same name with the party to whom the honour is intended. for instance, there is an ancient manuscript at _coventry_, call'd the _old leet book_, wherein is set down in a very particular manner, (fo. ) the reception of queen _margaret_, wife of _h._ , who came to _coventry_ (and i think, with her, her young son, prince _edward_) on the feast of the exaltation of the holy-cross, _h._ . ( ). many pageants and speeches were made for her welcome; out of all which, i shall observe but two or three, in the old english, as it is recorded. _st. edward._ moder of mekenes, dame margarete, princes most excellent, i king edward wellcome you with affection cordial, certefying to your highnes mekely myn entent, for the wele of the king and you hertily pray i shall, and for prince edward my gostly chylde, who i love principal. praying the, john evangelist, my help therein to be, on that condition right humbly i giue this ring to the. _john evangelist._ holy edward crowned king, brother in verginity, my power plainly i will prefer thy will to amplefy. most excellent princes of wymen mortal, your bedeman will i be. i know your life so vertuous that god is pleased thereby. the birth of you unto this reme shall cause great melody: the vertuous voice of prince edward shall dayly well encrease, st. edward his godfader and i shall pray therefore doubtlese. _st. margaret._ most notabul princes of wymen earthle, dame margarete, the chefe myrth of this empyre, ye be hertely welcome to this cyte. to the plesure of your highnesse i wyll set my desyre; both nature and gentlenesse doth me require, seth we be both of one name, to shew you kindnesse; wherefore by my power ye shall have no distresse. i shall pray to the prince that is endlese to socour you with solas of his high grace; he will here my petition this is doubtlesse, for i wrought all my life that his will wace. therefore, lady, when you be in any dredfull case, call on me boldly, thereof i pray you, and trust in me feythfully, i will do that may pay you. in the next reign (as appears in the same book, fo. ) an other prince _edward_, son of king _edward_ the , came to _coventry_ on the of _april_, _e._ , ( ) and was entertain'd with many pageants and speeches, among which i shall observe only two: one was of st. _edward_ again, who was then made to speak thus, noble prince edward, my cousin and my knight, and very prince of our line com yn dissent, i saint edward have pursued for your faders imperial right, whereof he was excluded by full furious intent. unto this your chamber as prince full excellent ye be right welcome. thanked be crist of his sonde, for that that was ours is now in your faders honde. the other speech was from st. _george_; and thus saith the book. ----also upon the condite in the croscheping was st. george armed, and a kings daughter kneling afore him with a lamb, and the fader and the moder being in a towre aboven beholding st. george saving their daughter from the dragon, and the condite renning wine in four places, and minstralcy of organ playing, and st. george hauing this speech under-written. o mighty god our all succour celestiall, which this royme hast given in dower to thi moder, and to me george protection perpetuall it to defend from enimys fer and nere, and as this mayden defended was here by thy grace from this dragons devour, so, lord preserve this noble prince, and ever be his socour. lovew. i perceive these holy matters consisted very much of praying; but i pitty poor st. _edward_ the confessor, who in the compass of a few years, was made to promise his favour and assistance to two young princes of the same name indeed, but of as different and opposite interests as the two poles. i know not how he could perform to both. trum. alas! they were both unhappy, notwithstanding these fine shews and seeming caresses of fortune, being both murder'd, one by the hand, the other by the procurement of _rich._ duke of _glocester_. i will produce but one example more of this sort of action, or representations, and that is of later time, and an instance of much higher nature than any yet mentioned, it was at the marriage of prince _arthur_, eldest son of king _henry _. to the princess _catherine_ of _spain, an. _. her passage through _london_ was very magnificent, as i have read it described in an old m.s. chronicle of that time. the pageants and speeches were many; the persons represented st. _catherine_, st. _ursula_, a senator, noblesse, virtue, an angel, king _alphonse_, _job_, _boetius_, &c. among others one is thus described. when this spech was ended, she held on her way tyll she cam unto the standard in chepe, where was ordeyned the fifth pagend made like an hevyn, theryn syttyng a personage representing the fader of hevyn, beyng all formyd of gold, and brennying beffor his trone vii candyilis of wax standyng in vii candylstykis of gold, the said personage beyng environed wyth sundry hyrarchies off angelis, and sytting in a cope of most rich cloth of tyssu, garnishyd wyth stoon and perle in most sumptuous wyse. foragain which said pagend upon the sowth syde of the strete stood at that tyme, in a hows wheryn that tyme dwellyd _william geffrey_ habyrdasher, the king, the quene, my lady the kingys moder, my lord of _oxynfford_, with many othir lordys and ladys, and perys of this realm, wyth also certayn ambassadors of france lately sent from the french king; and so passyng the said estatys, eyther guyvyng to other due and convenyent saluts and countenancs, so sone as hyr grace was approachid unto the sayd pagend, the fadyr began his spech as folowyth: _hunc veneram locum, septeno lumine septum._ _dignumque_ arthuri _totidem astra micant._ i am begynyng and ende, that made ech creature my sylfe, and for my sylfe, but man esspecially both male and female, made aftyr myne aun fygure, whom i joyned togydyr in matrimony and that in paradyse, declaring opynly that men shall weddyng in my chyrch solempnize, fygurid and signifyed by the erthly paradyze. in thys my chyrch i am allway recydent as my chyeff tabernacle, and most chosyn place, among these goldyn candylstikkis, which represent my catholyk chyrch, shynyng affor my face, with lyght of feyth, wisdom, doctryne, and grace, and mervelously eke enflamyd toward me wyth the extyngwible fyre of charyte. wherefore, my welbelovid dowgthyr katharyn, syth i have made yow to myne awn semblance in my chyrch to be maried, and your noble childryn to regn in this land as in their enherytance, se that ye have me in speciall remembrance: love me and my chyrch yowr spiritual modyr, for ye dispysing that oon, dyspyse that othyr. look that ye walk in my precepts, and obey them well: and here i give you the same blyssyng that i gave my well beloved chylder of israell; blyssyd be the fruyt of your bely; yower substance and frutys i shall encrease and multyply; yower rebellious enimyes i shall put in yowr hand, encreasing in honour both yow and yowr land. lovew. this would be censured now a days as profane to the highest degree. trum. no doubt on't: yet you see there was a time when people were not so nicely censorious in these matters, but were willing to take things in the best sence: and then this was thought a noble entertainment for the greatest king in _europe_ (such i esteem king _h._ . at that time) and proper for that day of mighty joy and triumph. and i must farther observe out of the lord _bacon_'s history of _h._ . that the chief man who had the care of that days proceedings was bishop _fox_, a grave councelor for war or peace, and also a good surveyor of works, and a good master of cerimonies, and it seems he approv'd it. the said lord _bacon_ tells us farther, that whosoever had those toys in compiling, they were not altogether pedantical. lovew. these things however are far from that which we understand by the name of a play. trum. it may be so; but these were the plays of those times. afterwards in the reign of k. _h._ . both the subject and form of these plays began to alter, and have since varied more and more. i have by me, a thing called _a merry play between the pardoner and the frere, the curate and neybour pratte_. printed the of _april_ , which was _h._ . (a few years before the dissolution of monasteries). the design of this play was to redicule friers and pardoners. of which i'll give you a taste. to begin it, the fryer enters with these words, deus hic; the holy trynyte preserue all that now here be. dere bretherne, yf ye will consyder the cause why i am com hyder, ye wolde be glad to knowe my entent; for i com not hyther for mony nor for rent, i com not hyther for meat nor for meale, but i com hyther for your soules heale, &c. after a long preamble, he addresses himself to preach, when the pardoner enters with these words, god and st. leonarde send ye all his grace as many as ben assembled in this place, &c. and makes a long speech, shewing his bulls and his reliques, in order to sell his pardons for the raising some money towards the rebuilding, of the holy chappell of sweet saynt leonarde, which late by fyre was destroyed and marde. both these speaking together, with continual interruption, at last they fall together by the ears. here the curate enters (for you must know the scene lies in the church) hold your hands; a vengeance on ye both two that euer ye came hyther to make this ado, to polute my chyrche, &c. _fri._ mayster parson, i marvayll ye will give lycence to this false knaue in this audience to publish his ragman rolles with lyes. i desyred hym ywys more than ones or twyse to hold his peas tyll that i had done, but he would here no more than the man in the mone. _pard._ why sholde i suffre the, more than thou me? mayster parson gaue me lycence before the. and i wolde thou knowest it i have relykes here, other maner stuffe than thou dost bere: i wyll edefy more with the syght of it, than will all thy pratynge of holy wryt; for that except that the precher himselfe lyve well, his predycacyon wyll helpe never a dell, &c. _pars._ no more of this wranglyng in my chyrch: i shrewe your hertys bothe for this lurche. is there any blood shed here between these knaues? thanked be god they had no stauys, nor egotoles, for then it had ben wronge. well, ye shall synge another songe. here he calls his neighbour _prat_ the constable, with design to apprehend 'em, and set 'em in the stocks. but the frier and pardoner prove sturdy, and will not be stockt, but fall upon the poor parson and constable, and bang 'em both so well-favour'dly, that at last they are glad to let 'em go at liberty: and so the farce ends with a drawn battail. such as this were the plays of that age, acted in gentlemens halls at christmas, or such like festival times, by the servants of the family, or strowlers who went about and made it a trade. it is not unlikely that[ ] lords in those days, and persons of eminent quality, had their several gangs of players, as some have now of fidlers, to whom they give cloaks and badges. the first comedy that i have seen that looks like regular, is _gammer gurton's needle_, writ i think in the reign of king _edward_ . this is composed of five acts, the scenes unbroken, and the unities of time and place duly observed. it was acted at _christ_ colledge in _cambridge_; there not being as yet any settled and publick theaters. lovew. i observe, _truman_, from what you have said, that plays in _england_ had a beginning much like those of _greece_, the monologues and the pageants drawn from place to place on wheels, answer exactly to the cart of _thespis_, and the improvements have been by such little steps and degrees as among the ancients, till at last, to use the words of sir _george buck_ (in his _third university of_ england) _dramatick poesy is so lively exprest and represented upon the publick stages and theatres of this city, as_ rome _in the_ auge _(the highest pitch) of her pomp and glory, never saw it better perform'd, i mean_ (says he) _in respect of the action and art, and not of the cost and sumptiousness_. this he writ about the year . but can you inform me _truman_, when publick theaters were first erected for this purpose in _london_? trum. not certainly; but i presume about the beginning of queen _elizabeths_ reign. for _stow_ in his survey of _london_ (which book was first printed in the year ) says, _of late years, in place of these stage-plays_ (i. e. those of religious matters) _have been used comedies, tragedies, interludes, and histories, both true and feigned; for the acting whereof certain publick places, as the theatre, the curtine, &c. have been erected_. and the continuator of _stows_ annals, p. , says, that in sixty years before the publication of that book, (which was _an. dom. _) no less than publick stages, or common playhouses, had been built in and about _london_. in which number he reckons five inns or common osteries, to have been in his time turned into play-houses, one cockpit, st. _paul_'s singing school, one in the _black-friers_, one in the _whitefriers_, and one in former time at _newington_ buts; and adds, before the space of years past, i never knew, heard, or read, of any such theaters, set stages, or playhouses, as have been purposely built within man's memory. lovew. after all, i have been told, that stage-plays are inconsistant with the laws of this kingdom, and players made rogues by statute. trum. he that told you so strain'd a point of truth. i never met with any law wholly to suppress them: sometimes indeed they have been prohibited for a season; as in times of _lent_, general mourning or publick calamities, or upon other occasions, when the government saw fit. thus by proclamation, of _april_, in the first year of queen _elizabeth_, plays and interludes were forbid till _all hallow-tide_ next following. _hollinshed_, p. . some statutes have been made for their regulation or reformation, not general suppression. by the stat. _eliz._ c. , (which was made _for the suppressing of rogues, vagabonds and sturdy beggars_) it is enacted, s. , that all persons that be, or utter themselves to be, proctors, procurers, patent gatherers, or collectors for gaols, prisons or hospitals, or fencers, barewards, common players of interludes and ministrels, wandering abroad, (other than players of interludes belonging to any baron of this realm, or any other honourable personage of greater degree, to be authoriz'd to play under the hand and seal of arms of such baron or personage) all juglers, tinkers, pedlers, and petty chapmen, wandering abroad, all wandring persons, &c. able in body, using loytering, and refusing to work for such reasonable wages as is commonly given, &c. these shall be ajudged and deemed rogues, vagabonds and sturdy beggars, and punished as such. lovew. but this priviledge of authorizing or licensing, is taken away by the stat. _ja._ . ch. , s. , and therefore all of them (as mr. _collier_ says, p. ) are expresly brought under the foresaid penalty, without distinction. trum. if he means all players, without distinction, 'tis a great mistake. for the force of the queens statute extends only to _wandring players_, and not to such as are the king or queen's servants, and establisht in settled houses by royal authority. on such, the ill character of vagrant players (or as they are now called, strolers) can cast no more aspersion, than the wandring proctors, in the same statute mentioned, on those of _doctors-commons_. by a stat. made _ ja._ i. ch. . it was enacted, that if any person shall in any stage-play, enterlude, shew, maygame, or pageant, jestingly or prophanely speak or use the holy name of god, christ jesus, the holy ghost, or of the trinity, he shall forfeit for every such offence, _l._ the stat. _char._ i. ch. , enacts, that no meetings, assemblies, or concourse of people shall be out of their own parishes, on the lords day, for any sports or pastimes whatsoever, nor any bear-bating, bull-bating, enterludes, common plays, or other unlawful exercises and pastimes used by any person or persons within their own parishes. these are all the statutes that i can think of relating to the stage and players; but nothing to suppress them totally, till the two ordinances of the long parliament, one of the of _october _, the other of the of _feb. _. by which all stage-plays and interludes are absolutely forbid; the stages, seats, galleries, _&c._ to be pulled down; all players tho' calling themselves the king or queens servants, if convicted of acting within two months before such conviction, to be punished as rogues according to law; the money received by them to go to the poor of the parish; and every spectator to pay s. to the use of the poor. also cock-fighting was prohibited by one of _oliver_'s acts of _ mar. _. but i suppose no body pretends these things to be laws; i could say more on this subject, but i must break off here, and leave you, _lovewit_; my occasions require it. love. farewel, old cavalier. trum. 'tis properly said; we are almost all of us, now, gone and forgotten. letters patent for erecting a new theatre january, car. ii. . a copy of the letters patents then granted by king charles ii. under the great seal of england, to sir william d'avenant, knt. his heirs and assigns, for erecting a new theatre, and establishing of a company of actors in any place within london or westminster, or the suburbs of the same: and that no other but this company, and one other company, by virtue of a like patent, to thomas killigrew, esq.; should be permitted within the said liberties. charles the second, by the grace of god, king of england, scotland, france, and ireland, defender of the faith, &c. to all to whom all these presents shall come, greeting. [sidenote: recites former patents, car. i. ann. , to sir will. d'avenant.] whereas our royal father of glorious memory, by his letters patents under his great seal of england bearing date at westminster the th day of march, in the th year of his reign, did give and grant unto sir william d'avenant (by the name of william d'avenant, gent.) his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, full power, licence, and authority, that he, they, and every of them, by him and themselves, and by all and every such person and persons as he or they should depute or appoint, and his and their laborers, servants, and workmen, should and might, lawfully, quietly, and peaceably, frame, erect, new build, and set up, upon a parcel of ground, lying near unto or behind the three kings ordinary in fleet-street, in the parishes of st. dunstan's in the west, london; or in st. bride's, london; or in either of them, or in any other ground in or about that place, or in the whole street aforesaid, then allotted to him for that use; or in any other place that was, or then after should be assigned or allotted out to the said sir william d'avenant by thomas earl of arundel and surry, then earl marshal of england, or any other commissioner for building, for the time being in that behalf, a theatre or play-house, with necessary tiring and retiring rooms, and other places convenient, containing in the whole forty yards square at the most, wherein plays, musical entertainments, scenes, or other the like presentments might be presented. and our said royal father did grant unto the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs, executors, and administrators and assignes, that it should and might be lawful to and for him the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assignes, from time to time, to gather together, entertain, govern, privilege, and keep, such and so many players and persons to exercise actions, musical presentments, scenes, dancing, and the like, as he the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs, executors, administrators, or assignes, should think fit and approve for the said house. and such persons to permit and continue, at and during the pleasure of the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs, executors, administrators, or assignes, from time to time, to act plays in such house so to be by him or them erected, and exercise musick, musical presentments, scenes, dancing, or other the like, at the same or other houses or times, or after plays are ended, peaceably and quietly, without the impeachment or impediment of any person or persons whatsoever, for the honest recreation of such as should desire to see the same; and that it should and might be lawful to and for the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, to take and receive of such as should resort to see or hear any such plays, scenes, and entertainments whatsoever, such sum or sums of money as was or then after, from time to time, should be accustomed to be given or taken in other play-houses and places for the like plays, scenes, presentments, and entertainments as in and by the said letters patents, relation being thereunto had, more at large may appear. [sidenote: car. ii. exemplification of said letters patents.] and whereas we did, by our letters patents under the great seal of england, bearing date the th day of may, in the th year of our reign, exemplifie the said recited letters patents granted by our royal father, as in and by the same, relation being thereunto had, at large may appear. [sidenote: surrender of both to the king in the court of chancery.] and whereas the said sir william d'avenant hath surrendered our letters patents of exemplification, and also the said recited letters patents granted by our royal father, into our court of chancery, to be cancelled; which surrender we have accepted, and do accept by these presents. [sidenote: new grant to sir william d'avenant, his heirs and assignes.] [sidenote: to erect a theatre in london or westminster, or the suburbs.] know ye that we of our especial grace, certain knowledge, and meer motion, and upon the humble petition of the said sir william d'avenant, and in consideration of the good and faithful service which he the said sir william d'avenant hath done unto us, and doth intend to do for the future; and in consideration of the said surrender, have given and granted, and by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors, do give and grant, unto the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, full power, licence, and authority, that he, they, and every one of them, by him and themselves, and by all and every such person and persons as he or they should depute or appoint, and his or their labourers, servants, and workmen, shall and may lawfully, peaceably, and quietly, frame, erect, new build, and set up, in any place within our cities of london and westminster, or the suburbs thereof, where he or they shall find best accommodation for that purpose; to be assigned and allotted out by the surveyor of our works; one theatre or play-house, with necessary tiring and retiring rooms, and other places convenient, of such extent and dimention as the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs or assigns shall think fitting: wherein tragedies, comedies, plays, operas, musick, scenes, and all other entertainments of the stage whatsoever, may be shewed and presented. [sidenote: and to entertain players, &c. to act without the impeachment of any person.] and we do hereby, for us, our heirs and successors, grant unto the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs and assigns, full power, licence, and authority, from time to time, to gather together, entertain, govern, priviledge and keep, such and so many players and persons to exercise and act tragedies, comedies, plays, operas, and other performances of the stage, within the house to be built as aforesaid, or within the house in lincoln's-inn-fields, wherein the said sir william d'avenant doth now exercise the premises; or within any other house, where he or they can best be fitted for that purpose, within our cities of london and westminster, or the suburbs thereof; which said company shall be the servants of our dearly beloved brother, james duke of york, and shall consist of such number as the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs or assigns, shall from time to time think meet. and such persons to permit and continue at and during the pleasure of the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs or assigns, from time to time, to act plays and entertainments of the stage, of all sorts, peaceably and quietly, without the impeachment or impediment of any person or persons whatsoever, for the honest recreation of such as shall desire to see the same. and that it shall and may be lawful to and for the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs and assigns, to take and receive of such our subjects as shall resort to see or hear any such plays, scenes and entertainments whatsoever, such sum or sums of money, as either have accustomably been given and taken in the like kind, or as shall be thought reasonable by him or them, in regard of the great expences of scenes, musick, and such new decorations, as have not been formerly used. and further, for us, our heirs, and successors, we do hereby give and grant unto the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs and assigns, full power to make such allowances out of that which he shall so receive, by the acting of plays and entertainments of the stage, as aforesaid, to the actors and other persons imployed in acting, representing, or in any quality whatsoever, about the said theatre, as he or they shall think fit; and that the said company shall be under the sole government and authority of the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs and assigns. and all scandalous and mutinous persons shall from time to time be by him and them ejected and disabled from playing in the said theatre. [sidenote: that no other company but this, and one other under mr. killigrew, be permitted to act within london or westminster or the suburbs.] and for that we are informed that divers companies of players have taken upon them to act plays publicly in our said cities of london and westminster, or the suburbs thereof, without any authority for that purpose; we do hereby declare our dislike of the same, and will and grant that only the said company erected and set up, or to be erected and set up by the said sir william d'avenant, his heirs and assigns, by virtue of these presents, and one other company erected and set up, or to be erected and set up by thomas killigrew, esq., his heirs or assigns, and none other, shall from henceforth act or represent comedies, tragedies, plays, or entertainments of the stage, within our said cities of london and westminster, or the suburbs thereof; which said company to be erected by the said thomas killigrew, his heirs or assigns, shall be subject to his and their government and authority, and shall be stiled the company of us and our royal consort. [sidenote: no actor to go from one company to the other.] and the better to preserve amity and correspondency betwixt the said companies, and that the one may not incroach upon the other by any indirect means, we will and ordain, that no actor or other person employed about either of the said theatres, erected by the said sir william d'avenant and thomas killigrew, or either of them, or deserting his company, shall be received by the governor or any of the said other company, or any other person or persons, to be employed in acting, or in any matter relating to the stage, without the consent and approbation of the governor of the company, whereof the said person so ejected or deserting was a member, signified under his hand and seal. and we do by these presents declare all other company and companies, saving the two companies before mentioned, to be silenced and suppressed. [sidenote: to correct plays, &c.] and forasmuch as many plays, formerly acted, do contain several prophane, obscene, and scurrilous passages; and the womens parts therein have been acted by men in the habits of women, at which some have taken offence: for the preventing of these abuses for the future, we do hereby straitly charge and command and enjoyn, that from henceforth no new play shall be acted by either of the said companies, containing any passages offensive to piety and good manners, nor any old or revived play, containing any such offensive passages as aforesaid, until the same shall be corrected and purged, by the said masters or governors of the said respective companies, from all such offensive and scandalous passages, as aforesaid. and we do likewise permit and give leave that all the womens parts to be acted in either of the said two companies for the time to come, may be performed by women, so long as these recreations, which, by reason of the abuses aforesaid, were scandalous and offensive, may by such reformation be esteemed, not only harmless delights, but useful and instructive representations of humane life, to such of our good subjects as shall resort to see the same. [sidenote: these letters patents to be good and effectual in the law, according to the true meaning of the same, although, &c.] and these our letters patents, or the inrolment thereof, shall be in all things good and effectual in the law, according to the true intent and meaning of the same, any thing in these presents contained, or any law, statute, act, ordinance proclamation, provision, restriction, or any other matter, cause, or thing whatsoever to the contrary, in any wise notwithstanding; although express mention of the true yearly value, or certainty of the premises, or of any of them, or of any other gifts or grants by us, or by any of our progenitors or predecessors, heretofore made to the said sir william d'avenant in these presents, is not made, or any other statute, act, ordinance, provision, proclamation, or restriction heretofore had, made, enacted, ordained, or provided, or any other matter, cause, or thing whatsoever to the contrary thereof, in any wise notwithstanding. in witness whereof, we have caused these our letters to be made patents. witness our self at westminster, the fifteenth day of january, in the fourteenth year of our reign. by the king. howard. an apology for the life of _mr._ colley cibber, _comedian_, and late patentee of the _theatre-royal_. _with an historical view of the_ stage _during his_ own time. written by himself. ------------------------------_hoc est vivere bis, vitâ posse priore frui._ mart. lib. . _when years no more of active life retain, 'tis youth renew'd, to laugh 'em o'er again._ anonym. the second edition. _london:_ printed by john watts for the author: and sold by w. lewis in _russel-street,_ near _convent--garden._ mdccxl. to a certain gentleman.[ ] _sir,_ because i know it would give you less concern to find your name in an impertinent satyr, than before the daintiest dedication of a modern author, i conceal it. let me talk never so idly to you, this way; you are, at least, under no necessity of taking it to yourself: nor when i boast of your favours, need you blush to have bestow'd them. or i may now give you all the attributes that raise a wise and good-natur'd man to esteem and happiness, and not be censured as a flatterer by my own or your enemies. ----i place my own first; because as they are the greater number, i am afraid of not paying the greater respect to them. yours, if such there are, i imagine are too well-bred to declare themselves: but as there is no hazard or visible terror in an attack upon my defenceless station, my censurers have generally been persons of an intrepid sincerity. having therefore shut the door against them while i am thus privately addressing you, i have little to apprehend from either of them. under this shelter, then, i may safely tell you, that the greatest encouragement i have had to publish this work, has risen from the several hours of patience you have lent me at the reading it. it is true, i took the advantage of your leisure in the country, where moderate matters serve for amusement; and there, indeed, how far your good-nature for an old acquaintance, or your reluctance to put the vanity of an author out of countenance, may have carried you, i cannot be sure; and yet appearances give me stronger hopes: for was not the complaisance of a whole evening's attention as much as an author of more importance ought to have expected? why then was i desired the next day to give you a second lecture? or why was i kept a third day with you, to tell you more of the same story? if these circumstances have made me vain, shall i say, sir, you are accountable for them? no, sir, i will rather so far flatter myself as to suppose it possible, that your having been a lover of the stage (and one of those few good judges who know the use and value of it, under a right regulation) might incline you to think so copious an account of it a less tedious amusement, than it may naturally be to others of different good sense, who may have less concern or taste for it. but be all this as it may; the brat is now born, and rather than see it starve upon the bare parish provision, i chuse thus clandestinely to drop it at your door, that it may exercise one of your many virtues, your charity, in supporting it. if the world were to know into whose hands i have thrown it, their regard to its patron might incline them to treat it as one of his family: but in the consciousness of what i _am_, i chuse not, sir, to say who you _are_. if your equal in rank were to do publick justice to your character, then, indeed, the concealment of your name might be an unnecessary diffidence: but am i, sir, of consequence enough, in any guise, to do honour to mr. ----? were i to set him in the most laudable lights that truth and good sense could give him, or his own likeness would require, my officious mite would be lost in that general esteem and regard which people of the first consequence, even of different parties, have a pleasure in paying him. encomiums to superiors from authors of lower life, as they are naturally liable to suspicion, can add very little lustre to what before was visible to the publick eye: such offerings (to use the stile they are generally dressed in) like _pagan_ incense, evaporate on the altar, and rather gratify the priest than the deity. but you, sir, are to be approached in terms within the reach of common sense: the honest oblation of a chearful heart is as much as you desire or i am able to bring you: a heart that has just sense enough to mix respect with intimacy, and is never more delighted than when your rural hours of leisure admit me, with all my laughing spirits, to be my idle self, and in the whole day's possession of you! then, indeed, i have reason to be vain; i am, then, distinguish'd by a pleasure too great to be conceal'd, and could almost pity the man of graver merit that dares not receive it with the same unguarded transport! this nakedness of temper the world may place in what rank of folly or weakness they please; but 'till wisdom can give me something that will make me more heartily happy, i am content to be gaz'd at as i am, without lessening my respect for those whose passions may be more soberly covered. yet, sir, will i not deceive you; 'tis not the lustre of your publick merit, the affluence of your fortune, your high figure in life, nor those honourable distinctions, which you had rather deserve than be told of, that have so many years made my plain heart hang after you: these are but incidental ornaments, that, 'tis true, may be of service to you in the world's opinion; and though, as one among the crowd, i may rejoice that providence has so deservedly bestow'd them; yet my particular attachment has risen from a meer natural and more engaging charm, the agreeable companion! nor is my vanity half so much gratified in the _honour_, as my sense is in the _delight_ of your society! when i see you lay aside the advantages of superiority, and by your own chearfulness of spirits call out all that nature has given me to meet them; then 'tis i taste you! then life runs high! i desire! i possess you! yet, sir, in this distinguish'd happiness i give not up my farther share of that pleasure, or of that right i have to look upon you with the publick eye, and to join in the general regard so unanimously pay'd to that uncommon virtue, your _integrity_! this, sir, the world allows so conspicuous a part of your character, that, however invidious the merit, neither the rude license of detraction, nor the prejudice of party, has ever once thrown on it the least impeachment or reproach. this is that commanding power that, in publick speaking, makes you heard with such attention! this it is that discourages and keeps silent the insinuations of prejudice and suspicion; and almost renders your eloquence an unnecessary aid to your assertions: even your opponents, conscious of your _integrity_, hear you rather as a witness than an orator--but this, sir, is drawing you too near the light, _integrity_ is too particular a virtue to be cover'd with a general application. let me therefore only talk to you, as at _tusculum_ (for so i will call that sweet retreat, which your own hands have rais'd) where like the fam'd orator of old, when publick cares permit, you pass so many rational, unbending hours: there! and at such times, to have been admitted, still plays in my memory more like a fictitious than a real enjoyment! how many golden evenings, in that theatrical paradise of water'd lawns and hanging groves, have i walk'd and prated down the sun in social happiness! whether the retreat of _cicero_, in cost, magnificence, or curious luxury of antiquities, might not out-blaze the _simplex munditiis_, the modest ornaments of your _villa_, is not within my reading to determine: but that the united power of nature, art, or elegance of taste, could have thrown so many varied objects into a more delightful harmony, is beyond my conception. when i consider you in this view, and as the gentleman of eminence surrounded with the general benevolence of mankind; i rejoice, sir, for you and for myself; to see _you_ in this particular light of merit, and myself sometimes admitted to my more than equal share of you. if this _apology_ for my past life discourages you not from holding me in your usual favour, let me quit this greater stage, the world, whenever i may, i shall think this the best-acted part of any i have undertaken, since you first condescended to laugh with, _sir_, _your most obedient_, _most obliged, and_ _most humble servant_, colley cibber. novemb. . . an apology for the life of mr. colley cibber, &c. [ ] chapter i. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the introduction. the author's birth. various fortune at school. not lik'd by those he lov'd there. why. a digression upon raillery. the use and abuse of it. the comforts of folly. vanity of greatness. laughing, no bad philosophy._ you know, sir, i have often told you that one time or other i should give the publick some memoirs of my own life; at which you have never fail'd to laugh, like a friend, without saying a word to dissuade me from it; concluding, i suppose, that such a wild thought could not possibly require a serious answer. but you see i was in earnest. and now you will say the world will find me, under my own hand, a weaker man than perhaps i may have pass'd for, even among my enemies.--with all my heart! my enemies will then read me with pleasure, and you, perhaps, with envy, when you find that follies, without the reproach of guilt upon them, are not inconsistent with happiness.--but why make my follies publick? why not? i have pass'd my time very pleasantly with them, and i don't recollect that they have ever been hurtful to any other man living. even admitting they were injudiciously chosen, would it not be vanity in me to take shame to myself for not being found a wise man? really, sir, my appetites were in too much haste to be happy, to throw away my time in pursuit of a name i was sure i could never arrive at. now the follies i frankly confess i look upon as in some measure discharged; while those i conceal are still keeping the account open between me and my conscience. to me the fatigue of being upon a continual guard to hide them is more than the reputation of being without them can repay. if this be weakness, _defendit numerus_, i have such comfortable numbers on my side, that were all men to blush that are not wise, i am afraid, in ten, nine parts of the world ought to be out of countenance:[ ] but since that sort of modesty is what they don't care to come into, why should i be afraid of being star'd at for not being particular? or if the particularity lies in owning my weakness, will my wisest reader be so inhuman as not to pardon it? but if there should be such a one, let me at least beg him to shew me that strange man who is perfect! is any one more unhappy, more ridiculous, than he who is always labouring to be thought so, or that is impatient when he is not thought so? having brought myself to be easy under whatever the world may say of my undertaking, you may still ask me why i give myself all this trouble? is it for fame, or profit to myself,[ ] or use or delight to others? for all these considerations i have neither fondness nor indifference: if i obtain none of them, the amusement, at worst, will be a reward that must constantly go along with the labour. but behind all this there is something inwardly inciting, which i cannot express in few words; i must therefore a little make bold with your patience. a man who has pass'd above forty years of his life upon a theatre, where he has never appear'd to be himself, may have naturally excited the curiosity of his spectators to know what he really was when in no body's shape but his own; and whether he, who by his profession had so long been ridiculing his benefactors, might not, when the coat of his profession was off, deserve to be laugh'd at himself; or from his being often seen in the most flagrant and immoral characters, whether he might not see as great a rogue when he look'd into the glass himself as when he held it to others. it was doubtless from a supposition that this sort of curiosity wou'd compensate their labours that so many hasty writers have been encourag'd to publish the lives of the late mrs. _oldfield_, mr. _wilks_, and mr. _booth_, in less time after their deaths than one could suppose it cost to transcribe them.[ ] now, sir, when my time comes, lest they shou'd think it worth while to handle my memory with the same freedom, i am willing to prevent its being so odly besmear'd (or at best but flatly white-wash'd) by taking upon me to give the publick this, as true a picture of myself as natural vanity will permit me to draw: for to promise you that i shall never be vain, were a promise that, like a looking-glass too large, might break itself in the making: nor am i sure i ought wholly to avoid that imputation, because if vanity be one of my natural features, the portrait wou'd not be like me without it. in a word, i may palliate and soften as much as i please; but upon an honest examination of my heart, i am afraid the same vanity which makes even homely people employ painters to preserve a flattering record of their persons, has seduced me to print off this _chiaro oscuro_ of my mind. and when i have done it, you may reasonably ask me of what importance can the history of my private life be to the publick? to this, indeed, i can only make you a ludicrous answer, which is, that the publick very well knows my life has not been a private one; that i have been employ'd in their service ever since many of their grandfathers were young men; and tho' i have voluntarily laid down my post, they have a sort of right to enquire into my conduct (for which they have so well paid me) and to call for the account of it during my share of administration in the state of the theatre. this work, therefore, which i hope they will not expect a man of hasty head shou'd confine to any regular method: (for i shall make no scruple of leaving my history when i think a digression may make it lighter for my reader's digestion.) this work, i say, shall not only contain the various impressions of my mind, (as in _louis the fourteenth_ his cabinet you have seen the growing medals of his person from infancy to old age,) but shall likewise include with them the _theatrical history of my own time_, from my first appearance on the stage to my last _exit_.[ ] if then what i shall advance on that head may any ways contribute to the prosperity or improvement of the stage in being, the publick must of consequence have a share in its utility. this, sir, is the best apology i can make for being my own biographer. give me leave therefore to open the first scene of my life from the very day i came into it; and tho' (considering my profession) i have no reason to be asham'd of my original; yet i am afraid a plain dry account of it will scarce admit of a better excuse than what my brother _bays_ makes for prince _prettyman_ in the _rehearsal_, viz. _i only do it for fear i should be thought to be no body's son at all_;[ ] for if i have led a worthless life, the weight of my pedigree will not add an ounce to my intrinsic value. but be the inference what it will, the simple truth is this. i was born in _london_, on the _ th_ of _november _,[ ] in _southampton-street_, facing _southampton-house_.[ ] my father, _caius gabriel cibber_,[ ] was a native of _holstein_, who came into _england_ some time before the restoration of king _charles_ ii. to follow his profession, which was that of a statuary, _&c._ the _basso relievo_ on the pedestal of the great column in the city, and the two figures of the _lunaticks_, the _raving_ and the _melancholy_, over the gates of _bethlehem-hospital_,[ ] are no ill monuments of his fame as an artist. my mother was the daughter of _william colley_, esq; of a very ancient family of _glaiston_ in _rutlandshire_, where she was born. my mother's brother, _edward colley_, esq; (who gave me my christian name) being the last heir male of it, the family is now extinct. i shall only add, that in _wright's_ history of _rutlandshire_, publish'd in , the _colley's_ are recorded as sheriffs and members of parliament from the reign of _henry_ vii. to the latter end of _charles_ i., in whose cause chiefly sir _antony colley_, my mother's grandfather, sunk his estate from three thousand to about three hundred _per annum_.[ ] in the year , at little more than ten years of age, i was sent to the free-school of _grantham_ in _lincolnshire_, where i staid till i got through it, from the lowest form to the uppermost. and such learning as that school could give me is the most i pretend to (which, tho' i have not utterly forgot, i cannot say i have much improv'd by study) but even there i remember i was the same inconsistent creature i have been ever since! always in full spirits, in some small capacity to do right, but in a more frequent alacrity to do wrong; and consequently often under a worse character than i wholly deserv'd: a giddy negligence always possess'd me, and so much, that i remember i was once whipp'd for my _theme_, tho' my master told me, at the same time, what was good of it was better than any boy's in the form. and (whatever shame it may be to own it) i have observ'd the same odd fate has frequently attended the course of my later conduct in life. the unskilful openness, or in plain terms, the indiscretion i have always acted with from my youth, has drawn more ill-will towards me, than men of worse morals and more wit might have met with. my ignorance and want of jealousy of mankind has been so strong, that it is with reluctance i even yet believe any person i am acquainted with can be capable of envy, malice, or ingratitude:[ ] and to shew you what a mortification it was to me, in my very boyish days, to find myself mistaken, give me leave to tell you a school story. a great boy, near the head taller than myself, in some wrangle at play had insulted me; upon which i was fool-hardy enough to give him a box on the ear; the blow was soon return'd with another that brought me under him and at his mercy. another lad, whom i really lov'd and thought a good-natur'd one, cry'd out with some warmth to my antagonist (while i was down) beat him, beat him soundly! this so amaz'd me that i lost all my spirits to resist, and burst into tears! when the fray was over i took my friend aside, and ask'd him, how he came to be so earnestly against me? to which, with some glouting[ ] confusion, he reply'd, because you are always jeering and making a jest of me to every boy in the school. many a mischief have i brought upon myself by the same folly in riper life. whatever reason i had to reproach my companion's declaring against me, i had none to wonder at it while i was so often hurting him: thus i deserv'd his enmity by my not having sense enough to know i _had_ hurt him; and he hated me because he had not sense enough to know that i never _intended_ to hurt him. as this is the first remarkable error of my life i can recollect, i cannot pass it by without throwing out some further reflections upon it; whether flat or spirited, new or common, false or true, right or wrong, they will be still my own, and consequently like me; i will therefore boldly go on; for i am only oblig'd to give you my _own,_ and not a _good_ picture, to shew as well the weakness as the strength of my understanding. it is not on what i write, but on my reader's curiosity i relie to be read through: at worst, tho' the impartial may be tir'd, the ill-natur'd (no small number) i know will see the bottom of me. what i observ'd then, upon my having undesignedly provok'd my school-friend into an enemy, is a common case in society; errors of this kind often sour the blood of acquaintance into an inconceivable aversion, where it is little suspected. it is not enough to say of your raillery that you intended no offence; if the person you offer it to has either a wrong head, or wants a capacity to make that distinction, it may have the same effect as the intention of the grossest injury: and in reality, if you know his parts are too slow to return it in kind, it is a vain and idle inhumanity, and sometimes draws the aggressor into difficulties not easily got out of: or to give the case more scope, suppose your friend may have a passive indulgence for your mirth, if you find him silent at it; tho' you were as intrepid as _cæsar_, there can be no excuse for your not leaving it off. when you are conscious that your antagonist can give as well as take, then indeed the smarter the hit the more agreeable the party: a man of chearful sense among friends will never be grave upon an attack of this kind, but rather thank you that you have given him a right to be even with you: there are few men (tho' they may be masters of both) that on such occasions had not rather shew their parts than their courage, and the preference is just; a bull-dog may have one, and only a man can have the other. thus it happens that in the coarse merriment of common people, when the jest begins to swell into earnest; for want of this election you may observe, he that has least wit generally gives the first blow. now, as among the better sort, a readiness of wit is not always a sign of intrinsick merit; so the want of that readiness is no reproach to a man of plain sense and civility, who therefore (methinks) should never have these lengths of liberty taken with him. wit there becomes absurd, if not insolent; ill-natur'd i am sure it is, which imputation a generous spirit will always avoid, for the same reason that a man of real honour will never send a challenge to a cripple. the inward wounds that are given by the inconsiderate insults of wit to those that want it, are as dangerous as those given by oppression to inferiors; as long in healing, and perhaps never forgiven. there is besides (and little worse than this) a mutual grossness in raillery that sometimes is more painful to the hearers that are not concern'd in it than to the persons engaged. i have seen a couple of these clumsy combatants drub one another with as little manners or mercy as if they had two flails in their hands; children at play with case-knives could not give you more apprehension of their doing one another a mischief. and yet, when the contest has been over, the boobys have look'd round them for approbation, and upon being told they were admirably well match'd, have sat down (bedawb'd as they were) contented at making it a drawn battle. after all that i have said, there is no clearer way of giving rules for raillery than by example. there are two persons now living, who tho' very different in their manner, are, as far as my judgment reaches, complete masters of it; one of a more polite and extensive imagination, the other of a knowledge more closely useful to the business of life: the one gives you perpetual pleasure, and seems always to be taking it; the other seems to take none till his business is over, and then gives you as much as if pleasure were his only business. the one enjoys his fortune, the other thinks it first necessary to make it; though that he will enjoy it then i cannot be positive, because when a man has once pick'd up more than he wants, he is apt to think it a weakness to suppose he has enough. but as i don't remember ever to have seen these gentlemen in the same company, you must give me leave to take them separately.[ ] the first of them, then, has a title, and----no matter what; i am not to speak of the great, but the happy part of his character, and in this one single light; not of his being an illustrious, but a delightful companion. in conversation he is seldom silent but when he is attentive, nor ever speaks without exciting the attention of others; and tho' no man might with less displeasure to his hearers engross the talk of the company, he has a patience in his vivacity that chuses to divide it, and rather gives more freedom than he takes; his sharpest replies having a mixture of politeness that few have the command of; his expression is easy, short, and clear; a stiff or studied word never comes from him; it is in a simplicity of style that he gives the highest surprize, and his ideas are always adapted to the capacity and taste of the person he speaks to: perhaps you will understand me better if i give you a particular instance of it. a person at the university, who from being a man of wit easily became his acquaintance there, from that acquaintance found no difficulty in being made one of his chaplains: this person afterwards leading a life that did no great honour to his cloth, obliged his patron to take some gentle notice of it; but as his patron knew the patient was squeamish, he was induced to sweeten the medicine to his taste, and therefore with a smile of good humour told him, that if to the many vices he had already, he would give himself the trouble to add one more, he did not doubt but his reputation might still be set up again. sir _crape_, who could have no aversion to so pleasant a dose, desiring to know what it might be, was answered, _hypocrisy, doctor, only a little hypocrisy_! this plain reply can need no comment; but _ex pede herculem_, he is every where proportionable. i think i have heard him since say, the doctor thought hypocrisy so detestable a sin that he dy'd without committing it. in a word, this gentleman gives spirit to society the moment he comes into it, and whenever he leaves it they who have business have then leisure to go about it. having often had the honour to be my self the but of his raillery, i must own i have received more pleasure from his lively manner of raising the laugh against me, than i could have felt from the smoothest flattery of a serious civility. tho' wit flows from him with as much ease as common sense from another, he is so little elated with the advantage he may have over you, that whenever your good fortune gives it against him, he seems more pleas'd with it on your side than his own. the only advantage he makes of his superiority of rank is, that by always waving it himself, his inferior finds he is under the greater obligation not to forget it. when the conduct of social wit is under such regulations, how delightful must those _convivia,_ those meals of conversation be, where such a member presides; who can with so much ease (as _shakespear_ phrases it) _set the table in a roar_.[ ] i am in no pain that these imperfect out-lines will be apply'd to the person i mean, because every one who has the happiness to know him must know how much more in this particular attitude is wanting to be like him. the other gentleman, whose bare interjections of laughter have humour in them, is so far from having a title that he has lost his real name, which some years ago he suffer'd his friends to railly him out of; in lieu of which they have equipp'd him with one they thought had a better sound in good company. he is the first man of so sociable a spirit that i ever knew capable of quitting the allurements of wit and pleasure for a strong application to business; in his youth (for there was a time when he was young) he set out in all the hey-day expences of a modish man of fortune; but finding himself over-weighted with appetites, he grew restiff, kick'd up in the middle of the course, and turn'd his back upon his frolicks abroad, to think of improving his estate at home: in order to which he clapt collars upon his coach-horses, and that their mettle might not run over other people, he ty'd a plough to their tails, which tho' it might give them a more slovenly air, would enable him to keep them fatter in a foot pace, with a whistling peasant beside them, than in a full trot, with a hot-headed coachman behind them. in these unpolite amusements he has laugh'd like a rake and look'd about him like a farmer for many years. as his rank and station often find him in the best company, his easy humour, whenever he is called to it, can still make himself the fiddle of it. and tho' some say he looks upon the follies of the world like too severe a philosopher, yet he rather chuses to laugh than to grieve at them; to pass his time therefore more easily in it, he often endeavours to conceal himself by assuming the air and taste of a man in fashion; so that his only uneasiness seems to be, that he cannot quite prevail with his friends to think him a worse manager than he really is; for they carry their raillery to such a height that it sometimes rises to a charge of downright avarice against him. upon which head it is no easy matter to be more merry upon him than he will be upon himself. thus while he sets that infirmity in a pleasant light, he so disarms your prejudice, that if he has it not, you can't find in your heart to wish he were without it. whenever he is attack'd where he seems to lie so open, if his wit happens not to be ready for you, he receives you with an assenting laugh, till he has gain'd time enough to whet it sharp enough for a reply, which seldom turns out to his disadvantage. if you are too strong for him (which may possibly happen from his being oblig'd to defend the weak side of the question) his last resource is to join in the laugh till he has got himself off by an ironical applause of your superiority. if i were capable of envy, what i have observ'd of this gentleman would certainly incline me to it; for sure to get through the necessary cares of life with a train of pleasures at our heels in vain calling after us, to give a constant preference to the business of the day, and yet be able to laugh while we are about it, to make even society the subservient reward of it, is a state of happiness which the gravest precepts of moral wisdom will not easily teach us to exceed. when i speak of happiness, i go no higher than that which is contain'd in the world we now tread upon; and when i speak of laughter, i don't simply mean that which every oaf is capable of, but that which has its sensible motive and proper season, which is not more limited than recommended by that indulgent philosophy, _cum ratione insanire._[ ] when i look into my present self, and afterwards cast my eye round all my hopes, i don't see any one pursuit of them that should so reasonably rouze me out of a nod in my great chair, as a call to those agreeable parties i have sometimes the happiness to mix with, where i always assert the equal liberty of leaving them, when my spirits have done their best with them. [illustration: caius cibber.] now, sir, as i have been making my way for above forty years through a crowd of cares, (all which, by the favour of providence, i have honestly got rid of) is it a time of day for me to leave off these fooleries, and to set up a new character? can it be worth my while to waste my spirits, to bake my blood, with serious contemplations, and perhaps impair my health, in the fruitless study of advancing myself into the better opinion of those very--very few wise men that are as old as i am? no, the part i have acted in real life shall be all of a piece, ----_servetur ad imum, qualis ab incepto processerit._ hor.[ ] i will not go out of my character by straining to be wiser than i _can_ be, or by being more affectedly pensive than i _need_ be; whatever i am, men of sense will know me to be, put on what disguise i will; i can no more put off my follies than my skin; i have often try'd, but they stick too close to me; nor am i sure my friends are displeased with them; for, besides that in this light i afford them frequent matter of mirth, they may possibly be less uneasy at their _own_ foibles when they have so old a precedent to keep them in countenance: nay, there are some frank enough to confess they envy what they laugh at; and when i have seen others, whose rank and fortune have laid a sort of restraint upon their liberty of pleasing their company by pleasing themselves, i have said softly to myself,----well, there is some advantage in having neither rank nor fortune! not but there are among them a third sort, who have the particular happiness of unbending into the very wantonness of good-humour without depreciating their dignity: he that is not master of that freedom, let his condition be never so exalted, must still want something to come up to the happiness of his inferiors who enjoy it. if _socrates_ cou'd take pleasure in playing at _even or odd_ with his children, or _agesilaus_ divert himself in riding the hobby-horse with them, am i oblig'd to be as eminent as either of them before i am as frolicksome? if the emperor _adrian_, near his death, cou'd play with his very soul, his _animula_, &c. and regret that it cou'd be no longer companionable; if greatness at the same time was not the delight he was so loth to part with, sure then these chearful amusements i am contending for must have no inconsiderable share in our happiness; he that does not chuse to live his own way, suffers others to chuse for him. give me the joy i always took in the end of an old song, _my mind, my mind is a kingdom to me!_[ ] if i can please myself with my own follies, have not i a plentiful provision for life? if the world thinks me a trifler, i don't desire to break in upon their wisdom; let them call me any fool but an unchearful one; i live as i write; while my way amuses me, it's as well as i wish it; when another writes better, i can like him too, tho' he shou'd not like me. not our great imitator of _horace_ himself can have more pleasure in writing his verses than i have in reading them, tho' i sometimes find myself there (as _shakespear_ terms it) _dispraisingly_[ ] spoken of:[ ] if he is a little free with me, i am generally in good company, he is as blunt with my betters; so that even here i might laugh in my turn. my superiors, perhaps, may be mended by him; but, for my part, i own myself incorrigible: i look upon my follies as the best part of my fortune, and am more concern'd to be a good husband of them, than of that; nor do i believe i shall ever be rhim'd out of them. and, if i don't mistake, i am supported in my way of thinking by _horace_ himself, who, in excuse of a loose writer, says, _prætulerim scriptor delirus, inersque videri, dum mea delectent mala me, vel denique fallant, quam sapere, et ringi_----[ ] which, to speak of myself as a loose philosopher, i have thus ventur'd to imitate: _me, while my laughing follies can deceive, blest in the dear delirium let me live, rather than wisely know my wants and grieve._ we had once a merry monarch of our own, who thought chearfulness so valuable a blessing, that he would have quitted one of his kingdoms where he cou'd not enjoy it; where, among many other conditions they had ty'd him to, his sober subjects wou'd not suffer him to laugh on a _sunday_; and tho' this might not be the avow'd cause of his elopement,[ ] i am not sure, had he had no other, that this alone might not have serv'd his turn; at least, he has my hearty approbation either way; for had i been under the same restriction, tho' my staying were to have made me his successor, i shou'd rather have chosen to follow him. how far his subjects might be in the right is not my affair to determine; perhaps they were wiser than the frogs in the fable, and rather chose to have a log than a stork for their king; yet i hope it will be no offence to say that king _log_ himself must have made but a very simple figure in history. the man who chuses never to laugh, or whose becalm'd passions know no motion, seems to me only in the quiet state of a green tree; he vegetates, 'tis true, but shall we say he lives? now, sir, for amusement--reader, take heed! for i find a strong impulse to talk impertinently; if therefore you are not as fond of seeing, as i am of shewing myself in all my lights, you may turn over two leaves together, and leave what follows to those who have more curiosity, and less to do with their time, than you have.--as i was saying then, let us, for amusement, advance this, or any other prince, to the most glorious throne, mark out his empire in what clime you please, fix him on the highest pinnacle of unbounded power; and in that state let us enquire into his degree of happiness; make him at once the terror and the envy of his neighbours, send his ambition out to war, and gratify it with extended fame and victories; bring him in triumph home, with great unhappy captives behind him, through the acclamations of his people, to repossess his realms in peace. well, when the dust has been brusht from his purple, what will he do next? why, this envy'd monarch (who we will allow to have a more exalted mind than to be delighted with the trifling flatteries of a congratulating circle) will chuse to retire, i presume, to enjoy in private the contemplation of his glory; an amusement, you will say, that well becomes his station! but there, in that pleasing rumination, when he has made up his new account of happiness, how much, pray, will be added to the balance more than as it stood before his last expedition? from what one article will the improvement of it appear? will it arise from the conscious pride of having done his weaker enemy an injury? are his eyes so dazzled with false glory that he thinks it a less crime in him to break into the palace of his princely neighbour, because he gave him time to defend it, than for a subject feloniously to plunder the house of a private man? or is the outrage of hunger and necessity more enormous than the ravage of ambition? let us even suppose the wicked usage of the world as to that point may keep his conscience quiet; still, what is he to do with the infinite spoil that his imperial rapine has brought home? is he to sit down and vainly deck himself with the jewels which he has plunder'd from the crown of another, whom self-defence had compell'd to oppose him? no, let us not debase his glory into so low a weakness. what appetite, then, are these shining treasures food for? is their vast value in seeing his vulgar subjects stare at them, wise men smile at them, or his children play with them? or can the new extent of his dominions add a cubit to his happiness? was not his empire wide enough before to do good in? and can it add to his delight that now no monarch has such room to do mischief in? but farther; if even the great _augustus_, to whose reign such praises are given, cou'd not enjoy his days of peace free from the terrors of repeated conspiracies, which lost him more quiet to suppress than his ambition cost him to provoke them: what human eminence is secure? in what private cabinet then must this wondrous monarch lock up his happiness that common eyes are never to behold it? is it, like his person, a prisoner to its own superiority? or does he at last poorly place it in the triumph of his injurious devastations? one moment's search into himself will plainly shew him that real and reasonable happiness can have no existence without innocence and liberty. what a mockery is greatness without them? how lonesome must be the life of that monarch who, while he governs only by being fear'd, is restrain'd from letting down his grandeur sometimes to forget himself and to humanize him into the benevolence and joy of society? to throw off his cumbersome robe of majesty, to be a man without disguise, to have a sensible taste of life in its simplicity, till he confess from the sweet experience that _dulce est desipere in loco_[ ] was no fool's philosophy. or if the gawdy charms of pre-eminence are so strong that they leave him no sense of a less pompous, tho' a more rational enjoyment, none sure can envy him but those who are the dupes of an equally fantastick ambition. my imagination is quite heated and fatigued in dressing up this phantome of felicity; but i hope it has not made me so far misunderstood, as not to have allow'd that in all the dispensations of providence the exercise of a great and virtuous mind is the most elevated state of happiness: no, sir, i am not for setting up gaiety against wisdom; nor for preferring the man of pleasure to the philosopher; but for shewing that the wisest or greatest man is very near an unhappy man, if the unbending amusements i am contending for are not sometimes admitted to relieve him. how far i may have over-rated these amusements let graver casuists decide; whether they affirm or reject what i have asserted hurts not my purpose; which is not to give laws to others; but to shew by what laws i govern myself: if i am mis-guided, 'tis nature's fault, and i follow her from this persuasion; that as nature has distinguish'd our species from the mute creation by our risibility, her design must have been by that faculty as evidently to raise our happiness, as by our _os sublime_[ ] (our erected faces) to lift the dignity of our form above them. notwithstanding all i have said, i am afraid there is an absolute power in what is simply call'd our constitution that will never admit of other rules for happiness than her own; from which (be we never so wise or weak) without divine assistance we only can receive it; so that all this my parade and grimace of philosophy has been only making a mighty merit of following my own inclination. a very natural vanity! though it is some sort of satisfaction to know it does not impose upon me. vanity again! however, think it what you will that has drawn me into this copious digression, 'tis now high time to drop it: i shall therefore in my next chapter return to my school, from whence i fear i have too long been truant. chapter ii. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _he that writes of himself not easily tir'd. boys may give men lessons. the author's preferment at school attended with misfortunes. the danger of merit among equals. of satyrists and backbiters. what effect they have had upon the author. stanzas publish'd by himself against himself._ it often makes me smile to think how contentedly i have set myself down to write my own life; nay, and with less concern for what may be said of it than i should feel were i to do the same for a deceased acquaintance. this you will easily account for when you consider that nothing gives a coxcomb more delight than when you suffer him to talk of himself; which sweet liberty i here enjoy for a whole volume together! a privilege which neither cou'd be allow'd me, nor wou'd become me to take, in the company i am generally admitted to;[ ] but here, when i have all the talk to myself, and have no body to interrupt or contradict me, sure, to say whatever i have a mind other people shou'd know of me is a pleasure which none but authors as vain as myself can conceive.----but to my history. however little worth notice the life of a school-boy may be supposed to contain, yet, as the passions of men and children have much the same motives and differ very little in their effects, unless where the elder experience may be able to conceal them: as therefore what arises from the boy may possibly be a lesson to the man, i shall venture to relate a fact or two that happen'd while i was still at school. in _february, - _, died king _charles_ ii. who being the only king i had ever seen, i remember (young as i was) his death made a strong impression upon me, as it drew tears from the eyes of multitudes, who looked no further into him than i did: but it was, then, a sort of school-doctrine to regard our monarch as a deity; as in the former reign it was to insist he was accountable to this world as well as to that above him. but what, perhaps, gave king _charles_ ii. this peculiar possession of so many hearts, was his affable and easy manner in conversing; which is a quality that goes farther with the greater part of mankind than many higher virtues, which, in a prince, might more immediately regard the publick prosperity. even his indolent amusement of playing with his dogs and feeding his ducks in st. _james's park_, (which i have seen him do) made the common people adore him, and consequently overlook in him what, in a prince of a different temper, they might have been out of humour at. i cannot help remembring one more particular in those times, tho' it be quite foreign to what will follow. i was carry'd by my father to the chapel in _whitehall_; where i saw the king and his royal brother the then duke of _york_, with him in the closet, and present during the whole divine service. such dispensation, it seems, for his interest, had that unhappy prince from his real religion, to assist at another to which his heart was so utterly averse.----i now proceed to the facts i promis'd to speak of. king _charles_ his death was judg'd by our school-master a proper subject to lead the form i was in into a higher kind of exercise; he therefore enjoin'd us severally to make his funeral oration: this sort of task, so entirely new to us all, the boys receiv'd with astonishment as a work above their capacity; and tho' the master persisted in his command, they one and all, except myself, resolved to decline it. but i, sir, who was ever giddily forward and thoughtless of consequences, set myself roundly to work, and got through it as well as i could. i remember to this hour that single topick of his affability (which made me mention it before) was the chief motive that warm'd me into the undertaking; and to shew how very childish a notion i had of his character at that time, i raised his humanity, and love of those who serv'd him, to such height, that i imputed his death to the shock he receiv'd from the lord _arlington's_ being at the point of death about a week before him.[ ] this oration, such as it was, i produc'd the next morning: all the other boys pleaded their inability, which the master taking rather as a mark of their modesty than their idleness, only seem'd to punish by setting me at the head of the form: a preferment dearly bought! much happier had i been to have sunk my performance in the general modesty of declining it. a most uncomfortable life i led among them for many a day after! i was so jeer'd, laugh'd at, and hated as a pragmatical bastard (school-boys language) who had betray'd the whole form, that scarce any of 'em wou'd keep me company; and tho' it so far advanc'd me into the master's favour that he wou'd often take me from the school to give me an airing with him on horseback, while they were left to their lessons; you may be sure such envy'd happiness did not encrease their good-will to me: notwithstanding which my stupidity cou'd take no warning from their treatment. an accident of the same nature happen'd soon after, that might have frighten'd a boy of a meek spirit from attempting any thing above the lowest capacity. on the d of _april_ following, being the coronation-day of the new king, the school petition'd the master for leave to play; to which he agreed, provided any of the boys would produce an _english_ ode upon that occasion.----the very word, _ode_, i know makes you smile already; and so it does me; not only because it still makes so many poor devils turn wits upon it, but from a more agreeable motive; from a reflection of how little i then thought that, half a century afterwards, i shou'd be call'd upon twice a year, by my post,[ ] to make the same kind of oblations to an _unexceptionable_ prince, the serene happiness of whose reign my halting rhimes are still so unequal to----this, i own, is vanity without disguise; but _hæc olim meminisse juvat_:[ ] the remembrance of the miserable prospect we had then before us, and have since escaped by a revolution, is now a pleasure which, without that remembrance, i could not so heartily have enjoy'd.[ ] the ode i was speaking of fell to my lot, which in about half an hour i produc'd. i cannot say it was much above the merry style of _sing! sing the day, and sing the song_, in the farce: yet bad as it was, it serv'd to get the school a play-day, and to make me not a little vain upon it; which last effect so disgusted my play-fellows that they left me out of the party i had most a mind to be of in that day's recreation. but their ingratitude serv'd only to increase my vanity; for i consider'd them as so many beaten tits that had just had the mortification of seeing my hack of a _pegasus_ come in before them. this low passion is so rooted in our nature that sometimes riper heads cannot govern it. i have met with much the same silly sort of coldness, even from my contemporaries of the theatre, from having the superfluous capacity of writing myself the characters i have acted. here, perhaps, i may again seem to be vain; but if all these facts are true (as true they are) how can i help it? why am i oblig'd to conceal them? the merit of the best of them is not so extraordinary as to have warn'd me to be nice upon it; and the praise due to them is so small a fish, it was scarce worth while to throw my line into the water for it. if i confess my vanity while a boy, can it be vanity, when a man, to remember it? and if i have a tolerable feature, will not that as much belong to my picture as an imperfection? in a word, from what i have mentioned, i wou'd observe only this; that when we are conscious of the least comparative merit in ourselves, we shou'd take as much care to conceal the value we set upon it, as if it were a real defect: to be elated or vain upon it is shewing your money before people in want; ten to one but some who may think you to have too much may borrow, or pick your pocket before you get home. he who assumes praise to himself, the world will think overpays himself. even the suspicion of being vain ought as much to be dreaded as the guilt itself. _cæsar_ was of the same opinion in regard to his wife's chastity. praise, tho' it may be our due, is not like a _bank-bill_, to be paid upon demand; to be valuable it must be voluntary. when we are dun'd for it, we have a right and privilege to refuse it. if compulsion insists upon it, it can only be paid as persecution in points of faith is, in a counterfeit coin: and who ever believ'd occasional conformity to be sincere? _nero_, the most vain coxcomb of a tyrant that ever breath'd, cou'd not raise an unfeigned applause of his harp by military execution; even where praise is deserv'd, ill-nature and self-conceit (passions that poll a majority of mankind) will with less reluctance part with their mony than their approbation. men of the greatest merit are forced to stay 'till they die before the world will fairly make up their account: then indeed you have a chance for your full due, because it is less grudg'd when you are incapable of enjoying it: then perhaps even malice shall heap praises upon your memory; tho' not for your sake, but that your surviving competitors may suffer by a comparison.[ ] 'tis from the same principle that _satyr_ shall have a thousand readers where _panegyric_ has one. when i therefore find my name at length in the satyrical works of our most celebrated living author, i never look upon those lines as malice meant to me, (for he knows i never provok'd it) but profit to himself: one of his points must be, to have many readers: he considers that my face and name are more known than those of many thousands of more consequence in the kingdom: that therefore, right or wrong, a lick at the _laureat_[ ] will always be a sure bait, _ad captandum vulgus_, to catch him little readers: and that to gratify the unlearned, by now and then interspersing those merry sacrifices of an old acquaintance to their taste, is a piece of quite right poetical craft.[ ] but as a little bad poetry is the greatest crime he lays to my charge, i am willing to subscribe to his opinion of _it_.[ ] that this sort of wit is one of the easiest ways too of pleasing the generality of readers, is evident from the comfortable subsistence which our weekly retailers of politicks have been known to pick up, merely by making bold with a government that had unfortunately neglected to find their genius a better employment. hence too arises all that flat poverty of censure and invective that so often has a run in our publick papers upon the success of a new author; when, god knows, there is seldom above one writer among hundreds in being at the same time whose satyr a man of common sense ought to be mov'd at. when a master in the art is angry, then indeed we ought to be alarm'd! how terrible a weapon is satyr in the hand of a great genius? yet even there, how liable is prejudice to misuse it? how far, when general, it may reform our morals, or what cruelties it may inflict by being angrily particular,[ ] is perhaps above my reach to determine. i shall therefore only beg leave to interpose what i feel for others whom it may personally have fallen upon. when i read those mortifying lines of our most eminent author, in his character of _atticus_[ ] (_atticus_, whose genius in verse and whose morality in prose has been so justly admir'd) though i am charm'd with the poetry, my imagination is hurt at the severity of it; and tho' i allow the satyrist to have had personal provocation, yet, methinks, for that very reason he ought not to have troubled the publick with it: for, as it is observed in the d _tatler_, "in all terms of reproof, when the sentence appears to arise from personal hatred or passion, it is not then made the cause of mankind, but a misunderstanding between two persons." but if such kind of satyr has its incontestable greatness; if its exemplary brightness may not mislead inferior wits into a barbarous imitation of its severity, then i have only admir'd the verses, and expos'd myself by bringing them under so scrupulous a reflexion: but the pain which the acrimony of those verses gave me is, in some measure, allay'd in finding that this inimitable writer, as he advances in years, has since had candour enough to celebrate the same person for his visible merit. happy genius! whose verse, like the eye of beauty, can heal the deepest wounds with the least glance of favour. since i am got so far into this subject, you must give me leave to go thro' all i have a mind to say upon it; because i am not sure that in a more proper place my memory may be so full of it. i cannot find, therefore, from what reason satyr is allow'd more licence than comedy, or why either of them (to be admir'd) ought not to be limited by decency and justice. let _juvenal_ and _aristophanes_ have taken what liberties they please, if the learned have nothing more than their antiquity to justify their laying about them at that enormous rate, i shall wish they had a better excuse for them! the personal ridicule and scurrility thrown upon _socrates_, which _plutarch_ too condemns; and the boldness of _juvenal_, in writing real names over guilty characters, i cannot think are to be pleaded in right of our modern liberties of the same kind. _facit indignatio versum_[ ] may be a very spirited expression, and seems to give a reader hopes of a lively entertainment: but i am afraid reproof is in unequal hands when anger is its executioner; and tho' an outrageous invective may carry some truth in it, yet it will never have that natural, easy credit with us which we give to the laughing ironies of a cool head. the satyr that can smile _circum præcordia ludit_, and seldom fails to bring the reader quite over to his side whenever ridicule and folly are at variance. but when a person satyriz'd is us'd with the extreamest rigour, he may sometimes meet with compassion instead of contempt, and throw back the odium that was designed for him, upon the author. when i would therefore disarm the satyrist of this indignation, i mean little more than that i would take from him all private or personal prejudice, and wou'd still leave him as much general vice to scourge as he pleases, and that with as much fire and spirit as art and nature demand to enliven his work and keep his reader awake. against all this it may be objected, that these are laws which none but phlegmatick writers will observe, and only men of eminence should give. i grant it, and therefore only submit them to writers of better judgment. i pretend not to restrain others from chusing what i don't like; they are welcome (if they please too) to think i offer these rules more from an incapacity to break them than from a moral humanity. let it be so! still, that will not weaken the strength of what i have asserted, if my assertion be true. and though i allow that provocation is not apt to weigh out its resentments by drachms and scruples, i shall still think that no publick revenge can be honourable where it is not limited by justice; and if honour is insatiable in its revenge it loses what it contends for and sinks itself, if not into cruelty, at least into vain-glory. this so singular concern which i have shewn for others may naturally lead you to ask me what i feel for myself when i am unfavourably treated by the elaborate authors of our daily papers.[ ] shall i be sincere? and own my frailty? its usual effect is to make me vain! for i consider if i were quite good for nothing these pidlers in wit would not be concern'd to take me to pieces, or (not to be quite so vain) when they moderately charge me with only ignorance or dulness, i see nothing in that which an honest man need be asham'd of:[ ] there is many a good soul who from those sweet slumbers of the brain are never awaken'd by the least harmful thought; and i am sometimes tempted to think those retailers of wit may be of the same class; that what they write proceeds not from malice, but industry; and that i ought no more to reproach them than i would a lawyer that pleads against me for his fee; that their detraction, like dung thrown upon a meadow, tho' it may seem at first to deform the prospect, in a little time it will disappear of itself and leave an involuntary crop of praise behind it. when they confine themselves to a sober criticism upon what i write; if their censure is just, what answer can i make to it? if it is unjust, why should i suppose that a sensible reader will not see it, as well as myself? or, admit i were able to expose them by a laughing reply, will not that reply beget a rejoinder? and though they might be gainers by having the worst on't in a paper war, that is no temptation for me to come into it. or (to make both sides less considerable) would not my bearing ill-language from a chimney-sweeper do me less harm than it would be to box with him, tho' i were sure to beat him? nor indeed is the little reputation i have as an author worth the trouble of a defence. then, as no criticism can possibly make me worse than i really am; so nothing i can say of myself can possibly make me better: when therefore a determin'd critick comes arm'd with wit and outrage to take from me that small pittance i have, i wou'd no more dispute with him than i wou'd resist a gentleman of the road to save a little pocket-money.[ ] men that are in want themselves seldom make a conscience of taking it from others. whoever thinks i have too much is welcome to what share of it he pleases: nay, to make him more merciful (as i partly guess the worst he can say of what i now write) i will prevent even the imputation of his doing me injustice, and honestly say it myself, viz. that of all the assurances i was ever guilty of, this of writing my own life is the most hardy. i beg his pardon!----impudent is what i should have said! that through every page there runs a vein of vanity and impertinence which no _french ensigns memoires_ ever came up to; but, as this is a common error, i presume the terms of _doating trifler_, _old fool_, or _conceited coxcomb_ will carry contempt enough for an impartial censor to bestow on me; that my style is unequal, pert, and frothy, patch'd and party-colour'd like the coat of an _harlequin_; low and pompous, cramm'd with epithets, strew'd with scraps of second-hand _latin_ from common quotations; frequently aiming at wit, without ever hitting the mark; a mere ragoust toss'd up from the offals of other authors: my subject below all pens but my own, which, whenever i keep to, is flatly daub'd by one eternal egotism: that i want nothing but wit to be as accomplish'd a coxcomb here as ever i attempted to expose on the theatre: nay, that this very confession is no more a sign of my modesty than it is a proof of my judgment, that, in short, you may roundly tell me, that----_cinna_ (or _cibber_) _vult videri pauper, et est pauper_. _when humble_ cinna _cries_, i'm poor and low, _you may believe him----he is really so_. well, sir critick! and what of all this? now i have laid myself at your feet, what will you do with me? expose me? why, dear sir, does not every man that writes expose himself? can you make me more ridiculous than nature has made me? you cou'd not sure suppose that i would lose the pleasure of writing because you might possibly judge me a blockhead, or perhaps might pleasantly tell other people they ought to think me so too. will not they judge as well from what _i_ say as what _you_ say? if then you attack me merely to divert yourself, your excuse for writing will be no better than mine. but perhaps you may want bread: if that be the case, even go to dinner, i' god's name![ ] if our best authors, when teiz'd by these triflers, have not been masters of this indifference, i should not wonder if it were disbeliev'd in me; but when it is consider'd that i have allow'd my never having been disturb'd into a reply has proceeded as much from vanity as from philosophy,[ ] the matter then may not seem so incredible: and tho' i confess the complete revenge of making them immortal dunces in immortal verse might be glorious; yet, if you will call it insensibility in me never to have winc'd at them, even that insensibility has its happiness, and what could glory give me more?[ ] for my part, i have always had the comfort to think, whenever they design'd me a disfavour, it generally flew back into their own faces, as it happens to children when they squirt at their play-fellows against the wind. if a scribbler cannot be easy because he fancies i have too good an opinion of my own productions, let him write on and mortify; i owe him not the charity to be out of temper myself merely to keep him quiet or give him joy: nor, in reality, can i see why any thing misrepresented, tho' believ'd of me by persons to whom i am unknown, ought to give me any more concern than what may be thought of me in _lapland:_ 'tis with those with whom i am to _live_ only, where my character can affect me; and i will venture to say, he must find out a new way of writing that will make me pass my time _there_ less agreeably. you see, sir, how hard it is for a man that is talking of himself to know when to give over; but if you are tired, lay me aside till you have a fresh appetite; if not, i'll tell you a story. in the year there were many authors whose merit wanted nothing but interest to recommend them to the vacant _laurel_, and who took it ill to see it at last conferred upon a comedian; insomuch, that they were resolved at least to shew specimens of their superior pretensions, and accordingly enliven'd the publick papers with ingenious epigrams and satyrical flirts at the unworthy successor;[ ] these papers my friends with a wicked smile would often put into my hands and desire me to read them fairly in company: this was a challenge which i never declin'd, and, to do my doughty antagonists justice, i always read them with as much impartial spirit as if i had writ them myself. while i was thus beset on all sides, there happen'd to step forth a poetical knight-errant to my assistance, who was hardy enough to publish some compassionate stanzas in my favour. these, you may be sure, the raillery of my friends could do no less than say i had written to myself. to deny it i knew would but have confirmed their pretended suspicion: i therefore told them, since it gave them such joy to believe them my own, i would do my best to make the whole town think so too. as the oddness of this reply was i knew what would not be easily comprehended, i desired them to have a days patience, and i would print an explanation to it: to conclude, in two days after i sent this letter, with some doggerel rhimes at the bottom, _to the author of the_ whitehall evening-post. sir, _the verses to the laureat in yours of_ saturday _last have occasion'd the following reply, which i hope you'll give a place in your next, to shew that we can be quick as well as smart upon a proper occasion: and, as i think it the lowest mark of a scoundrel to make bold with any man's character in print without subscribing the true name of the author; i therefore desire, if the laureat is concern'd enough to ask the question, that you will tell him my name and where i live; till then, i beg leave to be known by no other than that of,_ your servant, francis fairplay. monday, jan. , . these were the verses.[ ] i. _ah, hah! sir_ coll, _is that thy way, thy own dull praise to write? and wou'd'st thou stand so sure a lay? no, that's too stale a bite._ ii. _nature and art in thee combine, thy talents here excel: all shining brass thou dost outshine, to play the cheat so well._ iii. _who sees thee in_ iago's _part, but thinks thee such a rogue? and is not glad, with all his heart, to hang so sad a dog?_ iv. _when_ bays _thou play'st, thyself thou art; for that by nature fit, no blockhead better suits the part, than such a coxcomb wit._ v. _in_ wronghead _too, thy brains we see, who might do well at plough; as fit for parliament was he, as for the laurel, thou._ vi. _bring thy protected verse from court, and try it on the stage; there it will make much better sport, and set the town in rage._ vii. _there beaux and wits and cits and smarts, where hissing's not uncivil, will shew their parts to thy deserts, and send it to the devil._ viii. _but, ah! in vain 'gainst thee we write, in vain thy verse we maul! our sharpest satyr's thy delight, [ ]for_----blood! thou'lt stand it all. ix. _thunder, 'tis said, the laurel spares; nought but thy brows could blast it: and yet----o curst, provoking stars! thy comfort is, thou_ hast _it._ this, sir, i offer as a proof that i was seven years ago[ ] the same cold candidate for fame which i would still be thought; you will not easily suppose i could have much concern about it, while, to gratify the merry pique of my friends, i was capable of seeming to head the poetical cry then against me, and at the same time of never letting the publick know 'till this hour that these verses were written by myself: nor do i give them you as an entertainment, but merely to shew you this particular cast of my temper. when i have said this, i would not have it thought affectation in me when i grant that no man worthy the name of an author is a more faulty writer than myself; that i am not master of my own language[ ] i too often feel when i am at a loss for expression: i know too that i have too bold a disregard for that correctness which others set so just a value upon: this i ought to be ashamed of, when i find that persons, perhaps of colder imaginations, are allowed to write better than myself. whenever i speak of any thing that highly delights me, i find it very difficult to keep my words within the bounds of common sense: even when i write too, the same failing will sometimes get the better of me; of which i cannot give you a stronger instance than in that wild expression i made use of in the first edition of my preface to the _provok'd husband_; where, speaking of mrs. _oldfield's_ excellent performance in the part of lady _townly_, my words ran thus, _viz. it is not enough to say, that here she outdid_ her usual _outdoing_.[ ]--a most vile jingle, i grant it! you may well ask me, how could i possibly commit such a wantonness to paper? and i owe myself the shame of confessing i have no excuse for it but that, like a lover in the fulness of his content, by endeavouring to be floridly grateful i talk'd nonsense. not but it makes me smile to remember how many flat writers have made themselves brisk upon this single expression; wherever the verb, _outdo_, could come in, the pleasant accusative, _outdoing_, was sure to follow it. the provident wags knew that _decies repetita placeret_:[ ] so delicious a morsel could not be serv'd up too often! after it had held them nine times told for a jest, the publick has been pester'd with a tenth skull thick enough to repeat it. nay, the very learned in the law have at last facetiously laid hold of it! ten years after it first came from me it served to enliven the eloquence of an eloquent pleader before a house of parliament! what author would not envy me so frolicksome a fault that had such publick honours paid to it? after this consciousness of my real defects, you will easily judge, sir, how little i presume that my poetical labours may outlive those of my mortal _cotemporaries_.[ ] at the same time that i am so humble in my pretensions to fame, i would not be thought to undervalue it; nature will not suffer us to despise it, but she may sometimes make us too fond of it. i have known more than one good writer very near ridiculous from being in too much heat about it. whoever intrinsically deserves it will always have a proportionable right to it. it can neither be resign'd nor taken from you by violence. truth, which is unalterable, must (however his fame may be contested) give every man his due: what a poem weighs it will be worth; nor is it in the power of human eloquence, with favour or prejudice, to increase or diminish its value. prejudice, 'tis true, may a while discolour it; but it will always have its appeal to the equity of good sense, which will never fail in the end to reverse all false judgment against it. therefore when i see an eminent author hurt, and impatient at an impotent attack upon his labours, he disturbs my inclination to admire him; i grow doubtful of the favourable judgment i have made of him, and am quite uneasy to see him so tender in a point he cannot but know he ought not himself to be judge of; his concern indeed at another's prejudice or disapprobation may be natural; but to own it seems to me a natural weakness. when a work is apparently great it will go without crutches; all your art and anxiety to heighten the fame of it then becomes low and little.[ ] he that will bear no censure must be often robb'd of his due praise. fools have as good a right to be readers as men of sense have, and why not to give their judgments too? methinks it would be a sort of tyranny in wit for an author to be publickly putting every argument to death that appear'd against him; so absolute a demand for approbation puts us upon our right to dispute it; praise is as much the reader's property as wit is the author's; applause is not a tax paid to him as a prince, but rather a benevolence given to him as a beggar; and we have naturally more charity for the dumb beggar than the sturdy one. the merit of a writer and a fine woman's face are never mended by their talking of them: how amiable is she that seems not to know she is handsome! to conclude; all i have said upon this subject is much better contained in six lines of a reverend author, which will be an answer to all critical censure for ever. _time is the judge; time has nor friend nor foe; false fame must wither, and the true will grow. arm'd with this truth all criticks i defy; for, if i fall, by my own pen i die; while snarlers strive with proud but fruitless pain, to wound immortals, or to slay the slain._[ ] chapter iii. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the author's several chances for the church, the court, and the army. going to the university. met the revolution at nottingham. took arms on that side. what he saw of it. a few political thoughts. fortune willing to do for him. his neglect of her. the stage preferr'd to all her favours. the profession of an actor consider'd. the misfortunes and advantages of it._ i am now come to that crisis of my life when fortune seem'd to be at a loss what she should do with me. had she favour'd my father's first designation of me, he might then, perhaps, have had as sanguine hopes of my being a bishop as i afterwards conceived of my being a general when i first took arms at the revolution. nay, after that i had a third chance too, equally as good, of becoming an under-propper of the state. how at last i came to be none of all these the sequel will inform you. about the year i was taken from school to stand at the election of children into _winchester_ college; my being by my mother's side a descendant[ ] of _william_ of _wickam_, the founder, my father (who knew little how the world was to be dealt with) imagined my having that advantage would be security enough for my success, and so sent me simply down thither, without the least favourable recommendation or interest, but that of my naked merit and a pompous pedigree in my pocket. had he tack'd a direction to my back, and sent me by the carrier to the mayor of the town, to be chosen member of parliament there, i might have had just as much chance to have succeeded in the one as the other. but i must not omit in this place to let you know that the experience which my father then bought, at my cost, taught him some years after to take a more judicious care of my younger brother, _lewis cibber_, whom, with the present of a statue of the founder, of his own making, he recommended to the same college. this statue now stands (i think) over the school door there,[ ] and was so well executed that it seem'd to speak----for its kinsman. it was no sooner set up than the door of preferment was open to him. here one would think my brother had the advantage of me in the favour of fortune, by this his first laudable step into the world. i own i was so proud of his success that i even valued myself upon it; and yet it is but a melancholy reflection to observe how unequally his profession and mine were provided for; when i, who had been the outcast of fortune, could find means, from my income of the theatre, before i was my own master there, to supply in his highest preferment his common necessities. i cannot part with his memory without telling you i had as sincere a concern for this brother's well-being as my own. he had lively parts and more than ordinary learning, with a good deal of natural wit and humour; but from too great a disregard to his health he died a fellow of _new college_ in _oxford_ soon after he had been ordained by dr. _compton_, then bishop of _london_. i now return to the state of my own affair at _winchester_. after the election, the moment i was inform'd that i was one of the unsuccessful candidates, i blest myself to think what a happy reprieve i had got from the confin'd life of a school-boy! and the same day took post back to _london_, that i might arrive time enough to see a play (then my darling delight) before my mother might demand an account of my travelling charges. when i look back to that time, it almost makes me tremble to think what miseries, in fifty years farther in life, such an unthinking head was liable to! to ask why providence afterwards took more care of me than i did of myself, might be making too bold an enquiry into its secret will and pleasure: all i can say to that point is, that i am thankful and amazed at it![ ] 'twas about this time i first imbib'd an inclination, which i durst not reveal, for the stage; for besides that i knew it would disoblige my father, i had no conception of any means practicable to make my way to it. i therefore suppress'd the bewitching ideas of so sublime a station, and compounded with my ambition by laying a lower scheme, of only getting the nearest way into the immediate life of a gentleman-collegiate. my father being at this time employ'd at _chattsworth_ in _derbyshire_ by the (then) earl of _devonshire_, who was raising that seat from a _gothick_ to a _grecian_ magnificence, i made use of the leisure i then had in _london_ to open to him by letter my disinclination to wait another year for an uncertain preferment at _winchester_, and to entreat him that he would send me, _per saltum_, by a shorter cut, to the university. my father, who was naturally indulgent to me, seem'd to comply with my request, and wrote word that as soon as his affairs would permit, he would carry me with him and settle me in some college, but rather at _cambridge_, where (during his late residence at that place, in making some statues that now stand upon _trinity_ college new library) he had contracted some acquaintance with the heads of houses, who might assist his intentions for me.[ ] this i lik'd better than to go discountenanc'd to _oxford_, to which it would have been a sort of reproach to me not to have come elected. after some months were elaps'd, my father, not being willing to let me lie too long idling in _london_, sent for me down to _chattsworth_, to be under his eye, till he cou'd be at leisure to carry me to _cambridge_. before i could set out on my journey thither, the nation fell in labour of the revolution, the news being then just brought to _london_ that the prince of _orange_ at the head of an army was landed in the _west_.[ ] when i came to _nottingham_, i found my father in arms there, among those forces which the earl of _devonshire_ had rais'd for the redress of our violated laws and liberties. my father judg'd this a proper season for a young strippling to turn himself loose into the bustle of the world; and being himself too advanc'd in years to endure the winter fatigue which might possibly follow, entreated that noble lord that he would be pleas'd to accept of his son in his room, and that he would give him (my father) leave to return and finish his works at _chattsworth_. this was so well receiv'd by his lordship that he not only admitted of my service, but promis'd my father in return that when affairs were settled he would provide for me. upon this my father return'd to _derbyshire_, while i, not a little transported, jump'd into his saddle. thus in one day all my thoughts of the university were smother'd in ambition! a slight commission for a horse-officer was the least view i had before me. at this crisis you cannot but observe that the fate of king _james_ and of the prince of _orange_, and that of so minute a being as my self, were all at once upon the anvil: in what shape they wou'd severally come out, tho' a good _guess_ might be made, was not then _demonstrable_ to the deepest foresight; but as my fortune seem'd to be of small importance to the publick, providence thought fit to postpone it 'till that of those great rulers of nations was justly perfected. yet, had my father's business permitted him to have carried me one month sooner (as he intended) to the university, who knows but by this time that purer fountain might have wash'd my imperfections into a capacity of writing (instead of plays and annual odes) sermons and pastoral letters. but whatever care of the church might so have fallen to my share, as i dare say it may be now in better hands, i ought not to repine at my being otherwise disposed of.[ ] you must now consider me as one among those desperate thousands, who, after a patience sorely try'd, took arms under the banner of necessity, the natural parent of all human laws and government. i question if in all the histories of empire there is one instance of so bloodless a revolution as that in _england_ in , wherein whigs, tories, princes, prelates, nobles, clergy, common people, and a standing army, were unanimous. to have seen all _england_ of one mind is to have liv'd at a very particular juncture. happy nation! who are never divided among themselves but when they have least to complain of! our greatest grievance since that time seems to have been that we cannot all govern; and 'till the number of good places are equal to those who think themselves qualified for them there must ever be a cause of contention among us. while great men want great posts, the nation will never want real or seeming patriots; and while great posts are fill'd with persons whose capacities are but human, such persons will never be allow'd to be without errors; not even the revolution, with all its advantages, it seems, has been able to furnish us with unexceptionable statesmen! for from that time i don't remember any one set of ministers that have not been heartily rail'd at; a period long enough one would think (if all of them have been as bad as they have been call'd) to make a people despair of ever seeing a good one: but as it is possible that envy, prejudice, or party may sometimes have a share in what is generally thrown upon 'em, it is not easy for a private man to know who is absolutely in the right from what is said against them, or from what their friends or dependants may say in their favour: tho' i can hardly forbear thinking that they who have been _longest_ rail'd at, must from that circumstance shew in some sort a proof of capacity.----but to my history. it were almost incredible to tell you, at the latter end of king _james's_ time (though the rod of arbitrary power was always shaking over us) with what freedom and contempt the common people in the open streets talk'd of his wild measures to make a whole protestant nation papists; and yet, in the height of our secure and wanton defiance of him, we of the vulgar had no farther notion of any remedy for this evil than a satisfy'd presumption that our numbers were too great to be master'd by his mere will and pleasure; that though he might be too hard for our laws, he would never be able to get the better of our nature; and that to drive all _england_ into popery and slavery he would find would be teaching an old lion to dance.[ ] but happy was it for the nation that it had then wiser heads in it, who knew how to lead a people so dispos'd into measures for the publick preservation. here i cannot help reflecting on the very different deliverances _england_ met with at this time and in the very same year of the century before: then (in ) under a glorious princess, who had at heart the good and happiness of her people, we scatter'd and destroy'd the most formidable navy of invaders that ever cover'd the seas: and now (in ) under a prince who had alienated the hearts of his people by his absolute measures to oppress them, a foreign power is receiv'd with open arms in defence of our laws, liberties, and religion, which our native prince had invaded! how widely different were these two monarchs in their sentiments of glory! but, _tantum religio potuit suadere malorum_.[ ] when we consider in what height of the nation's prosperity the successor of queen _elizabeth_ came to this throne, it seems amazing that such a pile of _english_ fame and glory, which her skilful administration had erected, should in every following reign down to the revolution so unhappily moulder away in one continual gradation of political errors: all which must have been avoided, if the plain rule which that wise princess left behind her had been observed, _viz. that the love of her people was the surest support of her throne_. this was the principle by which she so happily govern'd herself and those she had the care of. in this she found strength to combat and struggle thro' more difficulties and dangerous conspiracies than ever _english_ monarch had to cope with. at the same time that she profess'd to _desire_ the people's love, she took care that her actions shou'd _deserve_ it, without the least abatement of her prerogative; the terror of which she so artfully covered that she sometimes seem'd to flatter those she was determin'd should obey. if the four following princes had exercis'd their regal authority with so visible a regard to the publick welfare, it were hard to know whether the people of _england_ might have ever complain'd of them, or even felt the want of that liberty they now so happily enjoy. 'tis true that before her time our ancestors had many successful contests with their sovereigns for their _ancient right_ and _claim_ to it; yet what did those successes amount to? little more than a declaration that there was such a right in being; but who ever saw it enjoy'd? did not the actions of almost every succeeding reign shew there were still so many doors of oppression left open to the prerogative that (whatever value our most eloquent legislators may have set upon those ancient liberties) i doubt it will be difficult to fix the period of their having a real being before the revolution: or if there ever was an elder period of our unmolested enjoying them, i own my poor judgment is at a loss where to place it. i will boldly say then, it is to the revolution only we owe the full possession of what, 'till then, we never had more than a perpetually contested right to: and, from thence, from the revolution it is that the protestant successors of king _william_ have found their paternal care and maintenance of that right has been the surest basis of their glory.[ ] these, sir, are a few of my political notions, which i have ventur'd to expose that you may see what sort of an _english_ subject i am; how wise or weak they may have shewn me is not my concern; let the weight of these matters have drawn me never so far out of my depth, i still flatter myself that i have kept a simple, honest head above water. and it is a solid comfort to me to consider that how insignificant soever my life was at the revolution, it had still the good fortune to make one among the many who brought it about; and that i now, with my coævals, as well as with the millions since born, enjoy the happy effects of it. but i must now let you see how my particular fortune went forward with this change in the government; of which i shall not pretend to give you any farther account than what my simple eyes saw of it. we had not been many days at _nottingham_ before we heard that the prince of _denmark_, with some other great persons, were gone off from the king to the prince of _orange_, and that the princess _anne_, fearing the king her father's resentment might fall upon her for her consort's revolt, had withdrawn her self in the night from _london_, and was then within half a days journey of _nottingham_; on which very morning we were suddenly alarm'd with the news that two thousand of the king's dragoons were in close pursuit to bring her back prisoner to _london_: but this alarm it seems was all stratagem, and was but a part of that general terror which was thrown into many other places about the kingdom at the same time, with design to animate and unite the people in their common defence; it being then given out that the _irish_ were every where at our heels to cut off all the protestants within the reach of their fury. in this alarm our troops scrambled to arms in as much order as their consternation would admit of, when, having advanc'd some few miles on the _london_ road, they met the princess in a coach, attended only by the lady _churchill_ (now dutchess dowager of _marlborough_) and the lady _fitzharding_, whom they conducted into _nottingham_ through the acclamations of the people: the same night all the noblemen and the other persons of distinction then in arms had the honour to sup at her royal highness's table; which was then furnish'd (as all her necessary accommodations were) by the care and at the charge of the lord _devonshire_. at this entertainment, of which i was a spectator, something very particular surpriz'd me: the noble guests at the table happening to be more in number than attendants out of liveries could be found for, i being well known in the lord _devonshire_'s family, was desired by his lordship's _maitre d'hotel_ to assist at it: the post assign'd me was to observe what the lady _churchill_ might call for. being so near the table, you may naturally ask me what i might have heard to have pass'd in conversation at it? which i should certainly tell you had i attended to above two words that were utter'd there, and those were, _some wine and water_. these i remember came distinguish'd and observ'd to my ear, because they came from the fair guest whom i took such pleasure to wait on: except at that single sound, all my senses were collected into my eyes, which during the whole entertainment wanted no better amusement, than of stealing now and then the delight of gazing on the fair object so near me: if so clear an emanation of beauty, such a commanding grace of aspect struck me into a regard that had something softer than the most profound respect in it, i cannot see why i may not without offence remember it; since beauty, like the sun, must sometimes lose its power to chuse, and shine into equal warmth the peasant and the courtier.[ ] now to give you, sir, a farther proof of how good a taste my first hopeful entrance into manhood set out with, i remember above twenty years after, when the same lady had given the world four of the loveliest daughters that ever were gaz'd on, even after they were all nobly married, and were become the reigning toasts of every party of pleasure, their still lovely mother had at the same time her votaries, and her health very often took the lead in those involuntary triumphs of beauty. however presumptuous or impertinent these thoughts might have appear'd at my first entertaining them, why may i not hope that my having kept them decently secret for full fifty years may be now a good round plea for their pardon? were i now qualify'd to say more of this celebrated lady, i should conclude it thus: that she has liv'd (to all appearance) a peculiar favourite of providence; that few examples can parallel the profusion of blessings which have attended so long a life of felicity. a person so attractive! a husband so memorably great! an offspring so beautiful! a fortune so immense! and a title which (when royal favour had no higher to bestow) she only could receive from the author of nature; a great grandmother without grey hairs! these are such consummate indulgencies that we might think heaven has center'd them all in one person, to let us see how far, with a lively understanding, the full possession of them could contribute to human happiness.--i now return to our military affairs. from _nottingham_ our troops march'd to _oxford_; through every town we pass'd the people came out, in some sort of order, with such rural and rusty weapons as they had, to meet us, in acclamations of welcome and good wishes. this i thought promis'd a favourable end of our civil war, when the nation seem'd so willing to be all of a side! at _oxford_ the prince and princess of _denmark_ met for the first time after their late separation, and had all possible honours paid them by the university. here we rested in quiet quarters for several weeks, till the flight of king _james_ into _france_; when the nation being left to take care of it self, the only security that could be found for it was to advance the prince and princess of _orange_ to the vacant throne. the publick tranquillity being now settled, our forces were remanded back to _nottingham_. here all our officers who had commanded them from their first rising receiv'd commissions to confirm them in their several posts; and at the same time such private men as chose to return to their proper business or habitations were offer'd their discharges. among the small number of those who receiv'd them, i was one; for not hearing that my name was in any of these new commissions, i thought it time for me to take my leave of ambition, as ambition had before seduc'd me from the imaginary honours of the gown, and therefore resolv'd to hunt my fortune in some other field.[ ] from _nottingham_ i again return'd to my father at _chattsworth_, where i staid till my lord came down, with the new honours[ ] of lord steward of his majesty's houshold and knight of the garter! a noble turn of fortune! and a deep stake he had play'd for! which calls to my memory a story we had then in the family, which though too light for our graver historians notice, may be of weight enough for my humble memoirs. this noble lord being in the presence-chamber in king _james_'s time, and known to be no friend to the measures of his administration, a certain person in favour there, and desirous to be more so, took occasion to tread rudely upon his lordship's foot, which was return'd with a sudden blow upon the spot: for this misdemeanour his lordship was fin'd thirty thousand pounds; but i think had some time allow'd him for the payment.[ ] in the summer preceding the revolution, when his lordship was retir'd to _chattsworth_, and had been there deeply engag'd with other noblemen in the measures which soon after brought it to bear, king _james_ sent a person down to him with offers to mitigate his fine upon conditions of ready payment, to which his lordship reply'd, that if his majesty pleas'd to allow him a little longer time, he would rather chuse to play _double_ or _quit_ with him: the time of the intended rising being then so near at hand, the demand, it seems, came too late for a more serious answer. however low my pretensions to preferment were at this time, my father thought that a little court-favour added to them might give him a chance for saving the expence of maintaining me, as he had intended, at the university: he therefore order'd me to draw up a petition to the duke, and, to give it some air of merit, to put it into _latin_, the prayer of which was, that his grace would be pleas'd to do something (i really forget what) for me.----however the duke, upon receiving it, was so good as to desire my father would send me to _london_ in the winter, where he would consider of some provision for me. it might, indeed, well require time to consider it; for i believe it was then harder to know what i was really fit for, than to have got me any thing i was not fit for: however, to _london_ i came, where i enter'd into my first state of attendance and dependance for about five months, till the _february_ following. but alas! in my intervals of leisure, by frequently seeing plays, my wise head was turn'd to higher views, i saw no joy in any other life than that of an actor, so that (as before, when a candidate at _winchester_) i was even afraid of succeeding to the preferment i sought for: 'twas on the stage alone i had form'd a happiness preferable to all that camps or courts could offer me! and there was i determin'd, let father and mother take it as they pleas'd, to fix my _non ultra_.[ ] here i think my self oblig'd, in respect to the honour of that noble lord, to acknowledge that i believe his real intentions to do well for me were prevented by my own inconsiderate folly; so that if my life did not then take a more laudable turn, i have no one but my self to reproach for it; for i was credibly inform'd by the gentlemen of his houshold, that his grace had, in their hearing, talk'd of recommending me to the lord _shrewsbury_, then secretary of state, for the first proper vacancy in that office. but the distant hope of a reversion was too cold a temptation for a spirit impatient as mine, that wanted immediate possession of what my heart was so differently set upon. the allurements of a theatre are still so strong in my memory, that perhaps few, except those who have felt them, can conceive: and i am yet so far willing to excuse my folly, that i am convinc'd, were it possible to take off that disgrace and prejudice which custom has thrown upon the profession of an actor, many a well-born younger brother and beauty of low fortune would gladly have adorn'd the theatre, who by their not being able to brook such dishonour to their birth, have pass'd away their lives decently unheeded and forgotten. many years ago, when i was first in the menagement of the theatre, i remember a strong instance, which will shew you what degree of ignominy the profession of an actor was then held at.--a lady, with a real title, whose female indiscretions had occasion'd her family to abandon her, being willing, in her distress, to make an honest penny of what beauty she had left, desired to be admitted as an actress; when before she could receive our answer, a gentleman (probably by her relation's permission) advis'd us not to entertain her, for reasons easy to be guess'd. you may imagine we cou'd not be so blind to our interest as to make an honourable family our unnecessary enemies by not taking his advice; which the lady, too, being sensible of, saw the affair had its difficulties, and therefore pursu'd it no farther. now, is it not hard that it should be a doubt whether this lady's condition or ours were the more melancholy? for here you find her honest endeavour to get bread from the stage was look'd upon as an addition of new scandal to her former dishonour! so that i am afraid, according to this way of thinking, had the same lady stoop'd to have sold patches and pomatum in a band-box from door to door, she might in that occupation have starv'd with less infamy than had she reliev'd her necessities by being famous on the theatre. whether this prejudice may have arisen from the abuses that so often have crept in upon the stage, i am not clear in; tho' when that is grossly the case, i will allow there ought to be no limits set to the contempt of it; yet in its lowest condition in my time, methinks there could have been no pretence of preferring the band-box to the buskin. but this severe opinion, whether merited or not, is not the greatest distress that this profession is liable to. i shall now give you another anecdote, quite the reverse of what i have instanc'd, wherein you will see an actress as hardly us'd for an act of modesty (which without being a prude, a woman, even upon the stage, may sometimes think it necessary not to throw off.) this too i am forc'd to premise, that the truth of what i am going to tell you may not be sneer'd at before it be known. about the year , a young actress of a desirable person, sitting in an upper box at the opera, a military gentleman thought this a proper opportunity to secure a little conversation with her, the particulars of which were probably no more worth repeating than it seems the _damoiselle_ then thought them worth listening to; for, notwithstanding the fine things he said to her, she rather chose to give the musick the preference of her attention: this indifference was so offensive to his high heart, that he began to change the tender into the terrible, and, in short, proceeded at last to treat her in a style too grosly insulting for the meanest female ear to endure unresented: upon which, being beaten too far out of her discretion, she turn'd hastily upon him with an angry look, and a reply which seem'd to set his merit in so low a regard, that he thought himself oblig'd in honour to take his time to resent it: this was the full extent of her crime, which his glory delay'd no longer to punish than 'till the next time she was to appear upon the stage: there, in one of her best parts, wherein she drew a favourable regard and approbation from the audience, he, dispensing with the respect which some people think due to a polite assembly, began to interrupt her performance with such loud and various notes of mockery, as other young men of honour in the same place have sometimes made themselves undauntedly merry with: thus, deaf to all murmurs or entreaties of those about him, he pursued his point, even to throwing near her such trash as no person can be suppos'd to carry about him unless to use on so particular an occasion. a gentleman then behind the scenes, being shock'd at his unmanly behaviour, was warm enough to say, that no man but a fool or a bully cou'd be capable of insulting an audience or a woman in so monstrous a manner. the former valiant gentleman, to whose ear the words were soon brought by his spies, whom he had plac'd behind the scenes to observe how the action was taken there, came immediately from the pit in a heat, and demanded to know of the author of those words if he was the person that spoke them? to which he calmly reply'd, that though he had never seen him before, yet, since he seem'd so earnest to be satisfy'd, he would do him the favour to own, that indeed the words were his, and that they would be the last words he should chuse to deny, whoever they might fall upon. to conclude, their dispute was ended the next morning in _hyde-park_, where the determin'd combatant who first ask'd for satisfaction was oblig'd afterwards to ask his life too; whether he mended it or not, i have not yet heard; but his antagonist in a few years after died in one of the principal posts of the government.[ ] now, though i have sometimes known these gallant insulters of audiences draw themselves into scrapes which they have less honourably got out of, yet, alas! what has that avail'd? this generous publick-spirited method of silencing a few was but repelling the disease in one part to make it break out in another: all endeavours at protection are new provocations to those who pride themselves in pushing their courage to a defiance of humanity. even when a royal resentment has shewn itself in the behalf of an injur'd actor, it has been unable to defend him from farther insults! an instance of which happen'd in the late king _james_'s time. mr. _smith_[ ] (whose character as a gentleman could have been no way impeach'd had he not degraded it by being a celebrated actor) had the misfortune, in a dispute with a gentleman behind the scenes, to receive a blow from him: the same night an account of this action was carry'd to the king, to whom the gentleman was represented so grosly in the wrong, that the next day his majesty sent to forbid him the court upon it. this indignity cast upon a gentleman only for having maltreated a player, was look'd upon as the concern of every gentleman; and a party was soon form'd to assert and vindicate their honour, by humbling this favour'd actor, whose slight injury had been judg'd equal to so severe a notice. accordingly, the next time _smith_ acted he was receiv'd with a chorus of cat-calls, that soon convinc'd him he should not be suffer'd to proceed in his part; upon which, without the least discomposure, he order'd the curtain to be dropp'd; and, having a competent fortune of his own, thought the conditions of adding to it by his remaining upon the stage were too dear, and from that day entirely quitted it.[ ] i shall make no observation upon the king's resentment, or on that of his good subjects; how far either was or was not right, is not the point i dispute for: be that as it may, the unhappy condition of the actor was so far from being reliev'd by this royal interposition in his favour, that it was the worse for it. while these sort of real distresses on the stage are so unavoidable, it is no wonder that young people of sense (though of low fortune) should be so rarely found to supply a succession of good actors. why then may we not, in some measure, impute the scarcity of them to the wanton inhumanity of those spectators, who have made it so terribly mean to appear there? were there no ground for this question, where could be the disgrace of entring into a society whose institution, when not abus'd, is a delightful school of morality; and where to excel requires as ample endowments of nature as any one profession (that of holy institution excepted) whatsoever? but, alas! as _shakespear_ says, _where's that palace, whereinto, sometimes foul things intrude not?_[ ] look into st. _peter_'s at _rome_, and see what a profitable farce is made of religion there! why then is an actor more blemish'd than a cardinal? while the excellence of the one arises from his innocently seeming what he is not, and the eminence of the other from the most impious fallacies that can be impos'd upon human understanding? if the best things, therefore, are most liable to corruption, the corruption of the theatre is no disproof of its innate and primitive utility. in this light, therefore, all the abuses of the stage, all the low, loose, or immoral supplements to wit, whether in making virtue ridiculous or vice agreeable, or in the decorated nonsense and absurdities of pantomimical trumpery, i give up to the contempt of every sensible spectator, as so much rank theatrical popery. but cannot still allow these enormities to impeach the profession, while they are so palpably owing to the deprav'd taste of the multitude. while vice and farcical folly are the most profitable commodities, why should we wonder that, time out of mind, the poor comedian, when real wit would bear no price, should deal in what would bring him most ready money? but this, you will say, is making the stage a nursery of vice and folly, or at least keeping an open shop for it.----i grant it: but who do you expect should reform it? the actors? why so? if people are permitted to buy it without blushing, the theatrical merchant seems to have an equal right to the liberty of selling it without reproach. that this evil wants a remedy is not to be contested; nor can it be denied that the theatre is as capable of being preserv'd by a reformation as matters of more importance; which, for the honour of our national taste, i could wish were attempted; and then, if it could not subsist under decent regulations, by not being permitted to present any thing there but what were _worthy_ to be there, it would be time enough to consider, whether it were necessary to let it totally fall, or effectually support it. notwithstanding all my best endeavours to recommend the profession of an actor to a more general favour, i doubt, while it is liable to such corruptions, and the actor himself to such unlimited insults as i have already mention'd, i doubt, i say, we must still leave him a-drift, with his intrinsick merit, to ride out the storm as well as he is able. however, let us now turn to the other side of this account, and see what advantages stand there to balance the misfortunes i have laid before you. there we shall still find some valuable articles of credit, that sometimes overpay his incidental disgraces. first, if he has sense, he will consider that as these indignities are seldom or never offer'd him by people that are remarkable for any one good quality, he ought not to lay them too close to his heart: he will know too, that when malice, envy, or a brutal nature, can securely hide or fence themselves in a multitude, virtue, merit, innocence, and even sovereign superiority, have been, and must be equally liable to their insults; that therefore, when they fall upon him in the same manner, his intrinsick value cannot be diminish'd by them: on the contrary, if, with a decent and unruffled temper, he lets them pass, the disgrace will return upon his aggressor, and perhaps warm the generous spectator into a partiality in his favour. that while he is conscious, that, as an actor, he must be always in the hands of injustice, it does him at least this involuntary good, that it keeps him in a settled resolution to avoid all occasions of provoking it, or of even offending the lowest enemy, who, at the expence of a shilling, may publickly revenge it. that, if he excells on the stage, and is irreproachable in his personal morals and behaviour, his profession is so far from being an impediment, that it will be oftner a just reason for his being receiv'd among people of condition with favour; and sometimes with a more social distinction, than the best, though more profitable trade he might have follow'd, could have recommended him to. that this is a happiness to which several actors within my memory, as _betterton_, _smith_, _montfort_, captain _griffin_,[ ] and mrs. _bracegirdle_ (yet living) have arriv'd at; to which i may add the late celebrated mrs. _oldfield_. now let us suppose these persons, the men, for example, to have been all eminent mercers, and the women as famous milliners, can we imagine that merely as such, though endow'd with the same natural understanding, they could have been call'd into the same honourable parties of conversation? people of sense and condition could not but know it was impossible they could have had such various excellencies on the stage, without having something naturally valuable in them: and i will take upon me to affirm, who knew them all living, that there was not one of the number who were not capable of supporting a variety of spirited conversation, tho' the stage were never to have been the subject of it. that to have trod the stage has not always been thought a disqualification from more honourable employments; several have had military commissions; _carlile_,[ ] and _wiltshire_[ ] were both kill'd captains; one in king _william_'s reduction of _ireland;_ and the other in his first war in _flanders_; and the famous _ben. johnson_, tho' an unsuccessful actor, was afterwards made poet-laureat.[ ] to these laudable distinctions let me add one more; that of publick applause, which, when truly merited, is perhaps one of the most agreeable gratifications that venial vanity can feel. a happiness almost peculiar to the actor, insomuch that the best tragick writer, however numerous his separate admirers may be, yet, to unite them into one general act of praise, to receive at once those thundring peals of approbation which a crouded theatre throws out, he must still call in the assistance of the skilful actor to raise and partake of them. in a word, 'twas in this flattering light only, though not perhaps so thoroughly consider'd, i look'd upon the life of an actor when but eighteen years of age; nor can you wonder if the temptations were too strong for so warm a vanity as mine to resist; but whether excusable or not, to the stage at length i came, and it is from thence, chiefly, your curiosity, if you have any left, is to expect a farther account of me. chapter iv. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _a short view of the stage, from the year to the revolution. the king's and duke's company united, composed the best set of_ english _actors yet known. their several theatrical characters._ tho' i have only promis'd you an account of all the material occurrences of the theatre during my own time, yet there was one which happen'd not above seven years before my admission to it, which may be as well worth notice as the first great revolution of it, in which, among numbers, i was involv'd. and as the one will lead you into a clearer view of the other, it may therefore be previously necessary to let you know that. king _charles_ ii. at his restoration granted two patents, one to sir _william davenant_,[ ] and the other to _thomas killigrew_, esq.,[ ] and their several heirs and assigns, for ever, for the forming of two distinct companies of comedians: the first were call'd the _king's servants,_ and acted at the theatre-royal in _drury-lane_;[ ] and the other the _duke's company_, who acted at the duke's theatre in _dorset-garden_.[ ] about ten of the king's company were on the royal houshold-establishment, having each ten yards of scarlet cloth, with a proper quantity of lace allow'd them for liveries; and in their warrants from the lord chamberlain were stiled _gentlemen of the great chamber_.[ ] whether the like appointments were extended to the duke's company, i am not certain; but they were both in high estimation with the publick, and so much the delight and concern of the court, that they were not only supported by its being frequently present at their publick _presentations_, but by its taking cognizance even of their private government, insomuch that their particular differences, pretentions, or complaints were generally ended by the _king_ or _duke_'s personal command or decision. besides their being thorough masters of their art, these actors set forwards with two critical advantages, which perhaps may never happen again in many ages. the one was, their immediate opening after the so long interdiction of plays during the civil war and the anarchy that followed it. what eager appetites from so long a fast must the guests of those times have had to that high and fresh variety of entertainments which _shakespear_ had left prepared for them? never was a stage so provided! a hundred years are wasted, and another silent century well advanced, and yet what unborn age shall say _shakespear_ has his equal! how many shining actors have the warm scenes of his genius given to posterity? without being himself in his action equal to his writing! a strong proof that actors, like poets, must be born such. eloquence and elocution are quite different talents: _shakespear_ could write _hamlet,_ but tradition tells us that the _ghost_, in the same play, was one of his best performances as an actor: nor is it within the reach of rule or precept to complete either of them. instruction, 'tis true, may guard them equally against faults or absurdities, but there it stops; nature must do the rest: to excel in either art is a self-born happiness which something more than good sense must be the mother of. [illustration: thomas betterton.] the other advantage i was speaking of is, that before the restoration no actresses had ever been seen upon the _english_ stage.[ ] the characters of women on former theatres were perform'd by boys, or young men of the most effeminate aspect. and what grace or master-strokes of action can we conceive such ungain hoydens to have been capable of? this defect was so well considered by _shakespear_, that in few of his plays he has any greater dependance upon the ladies than in the innocence and simplicity of a _desdemona_, an _ophelia_, or in the short specimen of a fond and virtuous _portia_. the additional objects then of real, beautiful women could not but draw a proportion of new admirers to the theatre. we may imagine, too, that these actresses were not ill chosen, when it is well known that more than one of them had charms sufficient at their leisure hours to calm and mollify the cares of empire.[ ] besides these peculiar advantages, they had a private rule or agreement, which both houses were happily ty'd down to, which was, that no play acted at one house should ever be attempted at the other. all the capital plays therefore of _shakespear_, _fletcher_, and _ben. johnson_ were divided between them by the approbation of the court and their own alternate choice.[ ] so that when _hart_[ ] was famous for _othello, betterton_ had no less a reputation for _hamlet_. by this order the stage was supply'd with a greater variety of plays than could possibly have been shewn had both companies been employ'd at the same time upon the same play; which liberty, too, must have occasion'd such frequent repetitions of 'em, by their opposite endeavours to forestall and anticipate one another, that the best actors in the world must have grown tedious and tasteless to the spectator: for what pleasure is not languid to satiety?[ ] it was therefore one of our greatest happinesses (during my time of being in the menagement of the stage) that we had a certain number of select plays which no other company had the good fortune to make a tolerable figure in, and consequently could find little or no account by acting them against us. these plays therefore for many years, by not being too often seen, never fail'd to bring us crowded audiences; and it was to this conduct we ow'd no little share of our prosperity. but when four houses[ ] are at once (as very lately they were) all permitted to act the same pieces, let three of them perform never so ill, when plays come to be so harrass'd and hackney'd out to the common people (half of which too, perhaps, would as lieve see them at one house as another) the best actors will soon feel that the town has enough of them. i know it is the common opinion, that the more play-houses the more emulation; i grant it; but what has this emulation ended in? why, a daily contention which shall soonest surfeit you with the best plays; so that when what _ought_ to please can no _longer_ please, your appetite is again to be raised by such monstrous presentations as dishonour the taste of a civiliz'd people.[ ] if, indeed, to our several theatres we could raise a proportionable number of good authors to give them all different employment, then perhaps the publick might profit from their emulation: but while good writers are so scarce, and undaunted criticks so plenty, i am afraid a good play and a blazing star will be equal rarities. this voluptuous expedient, therefore, of indulging the taste with several theatres, will amount to much the same variety as that of a certain oeconomist, who, to enlarge his hospitality, would have two puddings and two legs of mutton for the same dinner.[ ]--but to resume the thread of my history. these two excellent companies were both prosperous for some few years, 'till their variety of plays began to be exhausted: then of course the better actors (which the king's seem to have been allowed) could not fail of drawing the greater audiences. sir _william davenant_, therefore, master of the duke's company, to make head against their success, was forced to add spectacle and musick to action; and to introduce a new species of plays, since call'd dramatick opera's, of which kind were the _tempest_, _psyche_, _circe_, and others, all set off with the most expensive decorations of scenes and habits, with the best voices and dancers.[ ] this sensual supply of sight and sound coming in to the assistance of the weaker party, it was no wonder they should grow too hard for sense and simple nature, when it is consider'd how many more people there are, that can see and hear, than think and judge. so wanton a change of the publick taste, therefore, began to fall as heavy upon the king's company as their greater excellence in action had before fallen upon their competitors: of which encroachment upon wit several good prologues in those days frequently complain'd.[ ] but alas! what can truth avail, when its dependance is much more upon the ignorant than the sensible auditor? a poor satisfaction, that the due praise given to it must at last sink into the cold comfort of--_laudatur & alget_.[ ] unprofitable praise can hardly give it a _soup maigre_. taste and fashion with us have always had wings, and fly from one publick spectacle to another so wantonly, that i have been inform'd by those who remember it, that a famous puppet-shew[ ] in _salisbury_ change (then standing where _cecil-street_ now is) so far distrest these two celebrated companies, that they were reduced to petition the king for relief against it: nor ought we perhaps to think this strange, when, if i mistake not, _terence_ himself reproaches the _roman_ auditors of his time with the like fondness for the _funambuli_, the rope-dancers.[ ] not to dwell too long therefore upon that part of my history which i have only collected from oral tradition, i shall content myself with telling you that _mohun_[ ] and _hart_ now growing old (for, above thirty years before this time, they had severally born the king's commission of major and captain in the civil wars), and the younger actors, as _goodman_,[ ] _clark_,[ ] and others, being impatient to get into their parts, and growing intractable,[ ] the audiences too of both houses then falling off, the patentees of each, by the king's advice, which perhaps amounted to a command, united their interests and both companies into one, exclusive of all others, in the year .[ ] this union was, however, so much in favour of the duke's company, that _hart_ left the stage upon it, and _mohun_ survived not long after. one only theatre being now in possession of the whole town, the united patentees imposed their own terms upon the actors; for the profits of acting were then divided into twenty shares, ten of which went to the proprietors, and the other moiety to the principal actors, in such sub-divisions as their different merit might pretend to. these shares of the patentees were promiscuously sold out to money-making persons, call'd adventurers,[ ] who, tho' utterly ignorant of theatrical affairs, were still admitted to a proportionate vote in the menagement of them; all particular encouragements to actors were by them, of consequence, look'd upon as so many sums deducted from their private dividends. while therefore the theatrical hive had so many drones in it, the labouring actors, sure, were under the highest discouragement, if not a direct state of oppression. their hardship will at least appear in a much stronger light when compar'd to our later situation, who with scarce half their merit succeeded to be sharers under a patent upon five times easier conditions: for as they had but half the profits divided among ten or more of them; we had three fourths of the whole profits divided only among three of us: and as they might be said to have ten task-masters over them, we never had but one assistant menager (not an actor) join'd with us;[ ] who, by the crown's indulgence, was sometimes too of our own chusing. under this heavy establishment then groan'd this united company when i was first admitted into the lowest rank of it. how they came to be relieved by king _william_'s licence in , how they were again dispersed early in queen _anne_'s reign, and from what accidents fortune took better care of us, their unequal successors, will be told in its place: but to prepare you for the opening so large a scene of their history, methinks i ought (in justice to their memory too) to give you such particular characters of their theatrical merit as in my plain judgment they seem'd to deserve. presuming then that this attempt may not be disagreeable to the curious or the true lovers of the theatre, take it without farther preface. in the year , when i first came into this company, the principal actors then at the head of it were, of men. of women. mr. _betterton_, mrs. _betterton_, mr. _monfort_, mrs. _barry_, mr. _kynaston_, mrs. _leigh_, mr. _sandford_, mrs. _butler_, mr. _nokes_, mrs. _monfort_, and mr. _underhil_, and mrs. _bracegirdle_. mr. _leigh_. these actors whom i have selected from their cotemporaries were all original masters in their different stile, not meer auricular imitators of one another, which commonly is the highest merit of the middle rank, but self-judges of nature, from whose various lights they only took their true instruction. if in the following account of them i may be obliged to hint at the faults of others, i never mean such observations should extend to those who are now in possession of the stage; for as i design not my memoirs shall come down to their time, i would not lie under the imputation of speaking in their disfavour to the publick, whose approbation they must depend upon for support.[ ] but to my purpose. _betterton_ was an actor, as _shakespear_ was an author, both without competitors! form'd for the mutual assistance and illustration of each others genius! how _shakespear_ wrote, all men who have a taste for nature may read and know--but with what higher rapture would he still be _read_ could they conceive how _betterton play'd_ him! then might they know the one was born alone to speak what the other only knew to write! pity it is that the momentary beauties flowing from an harmonious elocution cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record! that the animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath and motion that presents them, or at best can but faintly glimmer through the memory or imperfect attestation of a few surviving spectators. could _how betterton_ spoke be as easily known as _what_ he spoke, then might you see the muse of _shakespear_ in her triumph, with all her beauties in their best array rising into real life and charming her beholders. but alas! since all this is so far out of the reach of description, how shall i shew you _betterton_? should i therefore tell you that all the _othellos_, _hamlets_, _hotspurs_, _mackbeths_, and _brutus_'s whom you may have seen since his time, have fallen far short of him; this still would give you no idea of his particular excellence. let us see then what a particular comparison may do! whether that may yet draw him nearer to you? you have seen a _hamlet_ perhaps, who, on the first appearance of his father's spirit, has thrown himself into all the straining vociferation requisite to express rage and fury, and the house has thunder'd with applause; tho' the mis-guided actor was all the while (as _shakespear_ terms it) tearing a passion into rags[ ]----i am the more bold to offer you this particular instance, because the late mr. _addison_, while i sate by him to see this scene acted, made the same observation, asking me, with some surprize, if i thought _hamlet_ should be in so violent a passion with the ghost, which, tho' it might have astonish'd, it had not provok'd him? for you may observe that in this beautiful speech the passion never rises beyond an almost breathless astonishment, or an impatience, limited by filial reverence, to enquire into the suspected wrongs that may have rais'd him from his peaceful tomb! and a desire to know what a spirit so seemingly distrest might wish or enjoin a sorrowful son to execute towards his future quiet in the grave? this was the light into which _betterton_ threw this scene; which he open'd with a pause of mute amazement! then rising slowly to a solemn, trembling voice, he made the ghost equally terrible to the spectator as to himself![ ] and in the descriptive part of the natural emotions which the ghastly vision gave him, the boldness of his expostulation was still govern'd by decency, manly, but not braving; his voice never rising into that seeming outrage or wild defiance of what he naturally rever'd.[ ] but alas! to preserve this medium, between mouthing and meaning too little, to keep the attention more pleasingly awake by a temper'd spirit than by meer vehemence of voice, is of all the master-strokes of an actor the most difficult to reach. in this none yet have equall'd _betterton_. but i am unwilling to shew his superiority only by recounting the errors of those who now cannot answer to them, let their farther failings therefore be forgotten! or rather, shall i in some measure excuse them? for i am not yet sure that they might not be as much owing to the false judgment of the spectator as the actor. while the million are so apt to be transported when the drum of their ear is so roundly rattled; while they take the life of elocution to lie in the strength of the lungs, it is no wonder the actor, whose end is applause, should be also tempted at this easy rate to excite it. shall i go a little farther? and allow that this extreme is more pardonable than its opposite error? i mean that dangerous affectation of the monotone, or solemn sameness of pronounciation, which, to my ear, is insupportable; for of all faults that so frequently pass upon the vulgar, that of flatness will have the fewest admirers. that this is an error of ancient standing seems evident by what _hamlet_ says, in his instructions to the players, _viz._ _be not too tame, neither,_ &c. the actor, doubtless, is as strongly ty'd down to the rules of _horace_ as the writer. _si vis me flere, dolendum est primum ipsi tibi_----[ ] he that feels not himself the passion he would raise, will talk to a sleeping audience: but this never was the fault of _betterton_; and it has often amaz'd me to see those who soon came after him throw out, in some parts of a character, a just and graceful spirit which _betterton_ himself could not but have applauded. and yet in the equally shining passages of the same character have heavily dragg'd the sentiment along like a dead weight, with a long-ton'd voice and absent eye, as if they had fairly forgot what they were about: if you have never made this observation, i am contented you should not know where to apply it.[ ] a farther excellence in _betterton_ was, that he could vary his spirit to the different characters he acted. those wild impatient starts, that fierce and flashing fire, which he threw into _hotspur_, never came from the unruffled temper of his _brutus_ (for i have more than once seen a _brutus_ as warm as _hotspur_): when the _betterton brutus_ was provok'd in his dispute with _cassius,_ his spirit flew only to his eye; his steady look alone supply'd that terror which he disdain'd an intemperance in his voice should rise to. thus, with a settled dignity of contempt, like an unheeding rock he repelled upon himself the foam of _cassius_. perhaps the very words of _shakespear_ will better let you into my meaning: _must i give way and room to your rash choler? shall i be frighted when a madman stares?_ and a little after, _there is no terror,_ cassius, _in your looks_! &c. not but in some part of this scene, where he reproaches _cassius,_ his temper is not under this suppression, but opens into that warmth which becomes a man of virtue; yet this is that _hasty spark_ of anger which _brutus_ himself endeavours to excuse. but with whatever strength of nature we see the poet shew at once the philosopher and the heroe, yet the image of the actor's excellence will be still imperfect to you unless language could put colours in our words to paint the voice with. _et, si vis similem pingere, pinge sonum_,[ ] is enjoyning an impossibility. the most that a _vandyke_ can arrive at, is to make his portraits of great persons seem to _think;_ a _shakespear_ goes farther yet, and tells you _what_ his pictures thought; a _betterton_ steps beyond 'em both, and calls them from the grave to breathe and be themselves again in feature, speech, and motion. when the skilful actor shews you all these powers at once united, and gratifies at once your eye, your ear, your understanding: to conceive the pleasure rising from such harmony, you must have been present at it! 'tis not to be told you! [illustration: benjamin johnson.] there cannot be a stronger proof of the charms of harmonious elocution than the many even unnatural scenes and flights of the false sublime it has lifted into applause. in what raptures have i seen an audience at the furious fustian and turgid rants in _nat. lee's alexander the great_! for though i can allow this play a few great beauties, yet it is not without its extravagant blemishes. every play of the same author has more or less of them. let me give you a sample from this. _alexander_, in a full crowd of courtiers, without being occasionally call'd or provok'd to it, falls into this rhapsody of vain-glory. _can none remember? yes, i know all must!_ and therefore they shall know it agen. _when glory, like the dazzling eagle, stood perch'd on my beaver, in the granic flood, when fortune's self my standard trembling bore, and the pale fates stood frighted on the shore, when the immortals on the billows rode, and i myself appear'd the leading god._[ ] when these flowing numbers came from the mouth of a _betterton_ the multitude no more desired sense to them than our musical _connoisseurs_ think it essential in the celebrate airs of an _italian_ opera. does not this prove that there is very near as much enchantment in the well-govern'd voice of an actor as in the sweet pipe of an eunuch? if i tell you there was no one tragedy, for many years, more in favour with the town than _alexander_, to what must we impute this its command of publick admiration? not to its intrinsick merit, surely, if it swarms with passages like this i have shewn you! if this passage has merit, let us see what figure it would make upon canvas, what sort of picture would rise from it. if _le brun_, who was famous for painting the battles of this heroe, had seen this lofty description, what one image could he have possibly taken from it? in what colours would he have shewn us _glory perch'd upon a beaver_? how would he have drawn _fortune trembling_? or, indeed, what use could he have made of _pale fates_ or _immortals_ riding upon _billows_, with this blustering _god_ of his own making at the _head_ of them?[ ] where, then, must have lain the charm that once made the publick so partial to this tragedy? why plainly, in the grace and harmony of the actor's utterance. for the actor himself is not accountable for the false poetry of his author; that the hearer is to judge of; if it passes upon him, the actor can have no quarrel to it; who, if the periods given him are round, smooth, spirited, and high-sounding, even in a false passion, must throw out the same fire and grace as may be required in one justly rising from nature; where those his excellencies will then be only more pleasing in proportion to the taste of his hearer. and i am of opinion that to the extraordinary success of this very play we may impute the corruption of so many actors and tragick writers, as were immediately misled by it. the unskilful actor who imagin'd all the merit of delivering those blazing rants lay only in the strength and strain'd exertion of the voice, began to tear his lungs upon every false or slight occasion to arrive at the same applause. and it is from hence i date our having seen the same reason prevalent for above fifty years. thus equally mis-guided, too, many a barren-brain'd author has stream'd into a frothy flowing style, pompously rolling into sounding periods signifying----roundly nothing; of which number, in some of my former labours, i am something more than suspicious that i may myself have made one. but to keep a little closer to _betterton_. when this favourite play i am speaking of, from its being too frequently acted, was worn out, and came to be deserted by the town, upon the sudden death of _monfort_, who had play'd _alexander_ with success for several years, the part was given to _betterton_, which, under this great disadvantage of the satiety it had given, he immediately reviv'd with so new a lustre that for three days together it fill'd the house;[ ] and had his then declining strength been equal to the fatigue the action gave him, it probably might have doubled its success; an uncommon instance of the power and intrinsick merit of an actor. this i mention not only to prove what irresistable pleasure may arise from a judicious elocution, with scarce sense to assist it; but to shew you too, that tho' _betterton_ never wanted fire and force when his character demanded it; yet, where it was not demanded, he never prostituted his power to the low ambition of a false applause. and further, that when, from a too advanced age, he resigned that toilsome part of _alexander_, the play for many years after never was able to impose upon the publick;[ ] and i look upon his so particularly supporting the false fire and extravagancies of that character to be a more surprizing proof of his skill than his being eminent in those of _shakespear_; because there, truth and nature coming to his assistance, he had not the same difficulties to combat, and consequently we must be less amaz'd at his success where we are more able to account for it. notwithstanding the extraordinary power he shew'd in blowing _alexander_ once more into a blaze of admiration, _betterton_ had so just a sense of what was true or false applause, that i have heard him say, he never thought any kind of it equal to an attentive silence; that there were many ways of deceiving an audience into a loud one; but to keep them husht and quiet was an applause which only truth and merit could arrive at: of which art there never was an equal master to himself. from these various excellencies, he had so full a possession of the esteem and regard of his auditors, that upon his entrance into every scene he seem'd to seize upon the eyes and ears of the giddy and inadvertent! to have talk'd or look'd another way would then have been thought insensibility or ignorance.[ ] in all his soliloquies of moment, the strong intelligence of his attitude and aspect drew you into such an impatient gaze and eager expectation, that you almost imbib'd the sentiment with your eye before the ear could reach it. as _betterton_ is the centre to which all my observations upon action tend, you will give me leave, under his character, to enlarge upon that head. in the just delivery of poetical numbers, particularly where the sentiments are pathetick, it is scarce credible upon how minute an article of sound depends their greatest beauty or inaffection. the voice of a singer is not more strictly ty'd to time and tune, than that of an actor in theatrical elocution:[ ] the least syllable too long or too slightly dwelt upon in a period depreciates it to nothing; which very syllable if rightly touch'd shall, like the heightening stroke of light from a master's pencil, give life and spirit to the whole. i never heard a line in tragedy come from _betterton_ wherein my judgment, my ear, and my imagination were not fully satisfy'd; which, since his time, i cannot equally say of any one actor whatsoever: not but it is possible to be much his inferior, with great excellencies; which i shall observe in another place. had it been practicable to have ty'd down the clattering hands of all the ill judges who were commonly the majority of an audience, to what amazing perfection might the _english_ theatre have arrived with so just an actor as _betterton_ at the head of it! if what was truth only could have been applauded, how many noisy actors had shook their plumes with shame, who, from the injudicious approbation of the multitude, have bawl'd and strutted in the place of merit? if therefore the bare speaking voice has such allurements in it, how much less ought we to wonder, however we may lament, that the sweeter notes of vocal musick should so have captivated even the politer world into an apostacy from sense to an idolatry of sound. let us enquire from whence this enchantment rises. i am afraid it may be too naturally accounted for: for when we complain that the finest musick, purchas'd at such vast expence, is so often thrown away upon the most miserable poetry, we seem not to consider, that when the movement of the air and tone of the voice are exquisitely harmonious, tho' we regard not one _word_ of what we hear, yet the power of the melody is so busy in the heart, that we naturally annex ideas to it of our own creation, and, in some sort, become our selves the poet to the composer; and what poet is so dull as not to be charm'd with the child of his own fancy? so that there is even a kind of language in agreeable sounds, which, like the aspect of beauty, without words speaks and plays with the imagination. while this taste therefore is so naturally prevalent, i doubt to propose remedies for it were but giving laws to the winds or advice to inamorato's: and however gravely we may assert that profit ought always to be inseparable from the delight of the theatre; nay, admitting that the pleasure would be heighten'd by the uniting them; yet, while instruction is so little the concern of the auditor, how can we hope that so choice a commodity will come to a market where there is so seldom a demand for it? it is not to the actor, therefore, but to the vitiated and low taste of the spectator, that the corruptions of the stage (of what kind soever) have been owing. if the publick, by whom they must live, had spirit enough to discountenance and declare against all the trash and fopperies they have been so frequently fond of, both the actors and the authors, to the best of their power, must naturally have serv'd their daily table with sound and wholesome diet.[ ]----but i have not yet done with my article of elocution. as we have sometimes great composers of musick who cannot sing, we have as frequently great writers that cannot read; and though without the nicest ear no man can be master of poetical numbers, yet the best ear in the world will not always enable him to pronounce them. of this truth _dryden_, our first great master of verse and harmony, was a strong instance: when he brought his play of _amphytrion_ to the stage,[ ] i heard him give it his first reading to the actors, in which, though it is true he deliver'd the plain sense of every period, yet the whole was in so cold, so flat, and unaffecting a manner, that i am afraid of not being believ'd when i affirm it. on the contrary, _lee_, far his inferior in poetry, was so pathetick a reader of his own scenes, that i have been inform'd by an actor who was present, that while _lee_ was reading to major _mohun_ at a rehearsal, _mohun_, in the warmth of his admiration, threw down his part and said, unless i were able to _play_ it as well as you _read_ it, to what purpose should i undertake it? and yet this very author, whose elocution rais'd such admiration in so capital an actor, when he attempted to be an actor himself, soon quitted the stage in an honest despair of ever making any profitable figure there.[ ] from all this i would infer, that let our conception of what we are to speak be ever so just, and the ear ever so true, yet, when we are to deliver it to an audience (i will leave fear out of the question) there must go along with the whole a natural freedom and becoming grace, which is easier to conceive than to describe: for without this inexpressible somewhat the performance will come out oddly disguis'd, or somewhere defectively unsurprizing to the hearer. of this defect, too, i will give you yet a stranger instance, which you will allow fear could not be the occasion of: if you remember _estcourt_,[ ] you must have known that he was long enough upon the stage not to be under the least restraint from fear in his performance: this man was so amazing and extraordinary a mimick, that no man or woman, from the coquette to the privy-counsellor, ever mov'd or spoke before him, but he could carry their voice, look, mien, and motion, instantly into another company: i have heard him make long harangues and form various arguments, even in the manner of thinking of an eminent pleader at the bar,[ ] with every the least article and singularity of his utterance so perfectly imitated, that he was the very _alter ipse_, scarce to be distinguish'd from his original. yet more; i have seen upon the margin of the written part of _falstaff_ which he acted, his own notes and observations upon almost every speech of it, describing the true spirit of the humour, and with what tone of voice, look, and gesture, each of them ought to be delivered. yet in his execution upon the stage he seem'd to have lost all those just ideas he had form'd of it, and almost thro' the character labour'd under a heavy load of flatness: in a word, with all his skill in mimickry and knowledge of what ought to be done, he never upon the stage could bring it truly into practice, but was upon the whole a languid, unaffecting actor.[ ] after i have shewn you so many necessary qualifications, not one of which can be spar'd in true theatrical elocution, and have at the same time prov'd that with the assistance of them all united, the whole may still come forth defective; what talents shall we say will infallibly form an actor? this i confess is one of nature's secrets, too deep for me to dive into; let us content our selves therefore with affirming, that _genius_, which nature only gives, only can complete him. this _genius_ then was so strong in _betterton_, that it shone out in every speech and motion of him. yet voice and person are such necessary supports to it, that by the multitude they have been preferr'd to _genius_ itself, or at least often mistaken for it. _betterton_ had a voice of that kind which gave more spirit to terror than to the softer passions; of more strength than melody.[ ] the rage and jealousy of _othello_ became him better than the sighs and tenderness of _castalio_:[ ] for though in _castalio_ he only excell'd others, in _othello_ he excell'd himself; which you will easily believe when you consider that, in spite of his complexion, _othello_ has more natural beauties than the best actor can find in all the magazine of poetry to animate his power and delight his judgment with. the person of this excellent actor was suitable to his voice, more manly than sweet, not exceeding the middle stature, inclining to the corpulent; of a serious and penetrating aspect; his limbs nearer the athletick than the delicate proportion; yet however form'd, there arose from the harmony of the whole a commanding mien of majesty, which the fairer-fac'd or (as _shakespear_ calls 'em) the _curled_ darlings of his time ever wanted something to be equal masters of. there was some years ago to be had, almost in every print-shop, a _metzotinto_ from _kneller_, extremely like him.[ ] in all i have said of _betterton_, i confine myself to the time of his strength and highest power in action, that you may make allowances from what he was able to execute at fifty, to what you might have seen of him at past seventy; for tho' to the last he was without his equal, he might not then be equal to his former self; yet so far was he from being ever overtaken, that for many years after his decease i seldom saw any of his parts in _shakespear_ supply'd by others, but it drew from me the lamentation of _ophelia_ upon _hamlet_'s being unlike what she had seen him. ----_ah! woe is me! t'have seen what i have seen, see what i see!_ the last part this great master of his profession acted was _melantius_ in the _maid's tragedy_, for his own benefit;[ ] when being suddenly seiz'd by the gout, he submitted, by extraordinary applications, to have his foot so far reliev'd that he might be able to walk on the stage in a slipper, rather than wholly disappoint his auditors. he was observ'd that day to have exerted a more than ordinary spirit, and met with suitable applause; but the unhappy consequence of tampering with his distemper was, that it flew into his head, and kill'd him in three days, (i think) in the seventy-fourth year of his age.[ ] i once thought to have fill'd up my work with a select dissertation upon theatrical action,[ ] but i find, by the digressions i have been tempted to make in this account of _betterton_, that all i can say upon that head will naturally fall in, and possibly be less tedious if dispers'd among the various characters of the particular actors i have promis'd to treat of; i shall therefore make use of those several vehicles, which you will find waiting in the next chapter, to carry you thro' the rest of the journey at your leisure. chapter v. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc apres peter van bleeck] _the theatrical characters of the principal actors in the year , continu'd._ _a few words to critical auditors._ tho', as i have before observ'd, women were not admitted to the stage 'till the return of king _charles_, yet it could not be so suddenly supply'd with them but that there was still a necessity, for some time, to put the handsomest young men into petticoats;[ ] which _kynaston_ was then said to have worn with success; particularly in the part of _evadne_ in the _maid's tragedy_, which i have heard him speak of, and which calls to my mind a ridiculous distress that arose from these sort of shifts which the stage was then put to.----the king coming a little before his usual time to a tragedy, found the actors not ready to begin, when his majesty, not chusing to have as much patience as his good subjects, sent to them to know the meaning of it; upon which the master of the company came to the box, and rightly judging that the best excuse for their default would be the true one, fairly told his majesty that the queen was not _shav'd_ yet: the king, whose good humour lov'd to laugh at a jest as well as to make one, accepted the excuse, which serv'd to divert him till the male queen cou'd be effeminated. in a word, _kynaston_ at that time was so beautiful a youth that the ladies of quality prided themselves in taking him with them in their coaches to _hyde-park_ in his theatrical habit, after the play; which in those days they might have sufficient time to do, because plays then were us'd to begin at four a-clock: the hour that people of the same rank are now going to dinner.----of this truth i had the curiosity to enquire, and had it confirm'd from his own mouth in his advanc'd age: and indeed, to the last of him, his handsomeness was very little abated; even at past sixty his teeth were all sound, white, and even, as one would wish to see in a reigning toast of twenty. he had something of a formal gravity in his mien, which was attributed to the stately step he had been so early confin'd to, in a female decency. but even that in characters of superiority had its proper graces; it misbecame him not in the part of _leon_, in _fletcher's rule a wife, &c._ which he executed with a determin'd manliness and honest authority well worth the best actor's imitation. he had a piercing eye, and in characters of heroick life a quick imperious vivacity in his tone of voice that painted the tyrant truly terrible. there were two plays of _dryden_ in which he shone with uncommon lustre; in _aurenge-zebe_ he play'd _morat_, and in _don sebastian, muley moloch_; in both these parts he had a fierce, lion-like majesty in his port and utterance that gave the spectator a kind of trembling admiration! here i cannot help observing upon a modest mistake which i thought the late mr. _booth_ committed in his acting the part of _morat_. there are in this fierce character so many sentiments of avow'd barbarity, insolence, and vain-glory, that they blaze even to a ludicrous lustre, and doubtless the poet intended those to make his spectators laugh while they admir'd them; but _booth_ thought it depreciated the dignity of tragedy to raise a smile in any part of it, and therefore cover'd these kind of sentiments with a scrupulous coldness and unmov'd delivery, as if he had fear'd the audience might take too familiar a notice of them.[ ] in mr. _addison's cato, syphax_[ ] has some sentiments of near the same nature, which i ventur'd to speak as i imagin'd _kynaston_ would have done had he been then living to have stood in the same character. mr. _addison_, who had something of mr. _booth_'s diffidence at the rehearsal of his play, after it was acted came into my opinion, and own'd that even tragedy on such particular occasions might admit of a _laugh_ of _approbation_.[ ] in _shakespear_ instances of them are frequent, as in _mackbeth_, _hotspur_, _richard the third_, and _harry the eighth_,[ ] all which characters, tho' of a tragical cast, have sometimes familiar strokes in them so highly natural to each particular disposition, that it is impossible not to be transported into an honest laughter at them: and these are those happy liberties which, tho' few authors are qualify'd to take, yet, when justly taken, may challenge a place among their greatest beauties. now, whether _dryden_, in his _morat, feliciter audet_,[ ]----or may be allow'd the happiness of having hit this mark, seems not necessary to be determin'd by the actor, whose business, sure, is to make the best of his author's intention, as in this part _kynaston_ did, doubtless not without _dryden_'s approbation. for these reasons then, i thought my good friend, mr. _booth_ (who certainly had many excellencies) carry'd his reverence for the buskin too far, in not following the bold flights of the author with that wantonness of spirit which the nature of those sentiments demanded: for example! _morat_ having a criminal passion for _indamora_, promises, at her request, for one day to spare the life of her lover _aurenge-zebe_: but not chusing to make known the real motive of his mercy, when _nourmahal_ says to him, _'twill not be safe to let him live an hour!_ _morat_ silences her with this heroical _rhodomontade_, _i'll do't, to shew my arbitrary power_.[ ] _risum teneatis?_ it was impossible not to laugh and reasonably too, when this line came out of the mouth of _kynaston_,[ ] with the stern and haughty look that attended it. but above this tyrannical, tumid superiority of character there is a grave and rational majesty in _shakespear's harry the fourth_, which, tho' not so glaring to the vulgar eye, requires thrice the skill and grace to become and support. of this real majesty _kynaston_ was entirely master; here every sentiment came from him as if it had been his own, as if he had himself that instant conceiv'd it, as if he had lost the player and were the real king he personated! a perfection so rarely found, that very often, in actors of good repute, a certain vacancy of look, inanity of voice, or superfluous gesture, shall unmask the man to the judicious spectator, who, from the least of those errors, plainly sees the whole but a lesson given him to be got by heart from some great author whose sense is deeper than the repeater's understanding. this true majesty _kynaston_ had so entire a command of, that when he whisper'd the following plain line to _hotspur_, _send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it_![ ] he convey'd a more terrible menace in it than the loudest intemperance of voice could swell to. but let the bold imitator beware, for without the look and just elocution that waited on it an attempt of the same nature may fall to nothing. [illustration: kynaston.] but the dignity of this character appear'd in _kynaston_ still more shining in the private scene between the king and prince his son: there you saw majesty in that sort of grief which only majesty could feel! there the paternal concern for the errors of the son made the monarch more rever'd and dreaded: his reproaches so just, yet so unmix'd with anger (and therefore the more piercing) opening as it were the arms of nature with a secret wish, that filial duty and penitence awak'd, might fall into them with grace and honour. in this affecting scene i thought _kynaston_ shew'd his most masterly strokes of nature; expressing all the various motions of the heart with the same force, dignity and feeling, they are written; adding to the whole that peculiar and becoming grace which the best writer cannot inspire into any actor that is not born with it. what made the merit of this actor and that of _betterton_ more surprizing, was that though they both observ'd the rules of truth and nature, they were each as different in their manner of acting as in their personal form and features. but _kynaston_ staid too long upon the stage, till his memory and spirit began to fail him. i shall not therefore say any thing of his imperfections, which, at that time, were visibly not his own, but the effects of decaying nature.[ ] _monfort_,[ ] a younger man by twenty years, and at this time in his highest reputation, was an actor of a very different style: of person he was tall, well made, fair, and of an agreeable aspect: his voice clear, full, and melodious: in tragedy he was the most affecting lover within my memory. his addresses had a resistless recommendation from the very tone of his voice, which gave his words such softness that, as _dryden_ says, ----_like flakes of feather'd snow, they melted as they fell_![ ] all this he particularly verify'd in that scene of _alexander_, where the heroe throws himself at the feet of _statira_ for pardon of his past infidelities. there we saw the great, the tender, the penitent, the despairing, the transported, and the amiable, in the highest perfection. in comedy he gave the truest life to what we call the _fine gentleman_; his spirit shone the brighter for being polish'd with decency: in scenes of gaiety he never broke into the regard that was due to the presence of equal or superior characters, tho' inferior actors play'd them; he fill'd the stage, not by elbowing and crossing it before others, or disconcerting their action, but by surpassing them in true masterly touches of nature. he never laugh'd at his own jest, unless the point of his raillery upon another requir'd it.--he had a particular talent in giving life to _bons mots_ and _repartees_: the wit of the poet seem'd always to come from him _extempore_, and sharpen'd into more wit from his brilliant manner of delivering it; he had himself a good share of it, or what is equal to it, so lively a pleasantness of humour, that when either of these fell into his hands upon the stage, he wantoned with them to the highest delight of his auditors. the _agreeable_ was so natural to him, that even in that dissolute character of the _rover_[ ] he seem'd to wash off the guilt from vice, and gave it charms and merit. for tho' it may be a reproach to the poet to draw such characters not only unpunish'd but rewarded, the actor may still be allow'd his due praise in his excellent performance. and this is a distinction which, when this comedy was acted at _whitehall_, king _william_'s queen _mary_ was pleas'd to make in favour of _monfort_, notwithstanding her disapprobation of the play. he had, besides all this, a variety in his genius which few capital actors have shewn, or perhaps have thought it any addition to their merit to arrive at; he could entirely change himself; could at once throw off the man of sense for the brisk, vain, rude, and lively coxcomb, the false, flashy pretender to wit, and the dupe of his own sufficiency: of this he gave a delightful instance in the character of _sparkish_ in _wycherly's country wife_. in that of sir _courtly nice_[ ] his excellence was still greater: there his whole man, voice, mien, and gesture was no longer _monfort_, but another person. there, the insipid, soft civility, the elegant and formal mien, the drawling delicacy of voice, the stately flatness of his address, and the empty eminence of his attitudes were so nicely observ'd and guarded by him, that he had not been an entire master of nature had he not kept his judgment, as it were, a centinel upon himself, not to admit the least likeness of what he us'd to be to enter into any part of his performance, he could not possibly have so completely finish'd it. if, some years after the death of _monfort_, i my self had any success in either of these characters, i must pay the debt i owe to his memory, in confessing the advantages i receiv'd from the just idea and strong impression he had given me from his acting them. had he been remember'd when i first attempted them my defects would have been more easily discover'd, and consequently my favourable reception in them must have been very much and justly abated. if it could be remembred how much he had the advantage of me in voice and person, i could not here be suspected of an affected modesty or of over-valuing his excellence: for he sung a clear counter-tenour, and had a melodious, warbling throat, which could not but set off the last scene of sir _courtly_ with an uncommon happiness; which i, alas! could only struggle thro' with the faint excuses and real confidence of a fine singer under the imperfection of a feign'd and screaming trebble, which at best could only shew you what i would have done had nature been more favourable to me. this excellent actor was cut off by a tragical death in the d year of his age, generally lamented by his friends and all lovers of the theatre. the particular accidents that attended his fall are to be found at large in the trial of the lord _mohun_, printed among those of the state, in _folio_.[ ] _sandford_ might properly be term'd the _spagnolet_ of the theatre, an excellent actor in disagreeable characters: for as the chief pieces of that famous painter were of human nature in pain and agony, so _sandford_ upon the stage was generally as flagitious as a _creon_, a _maligni_, an _iago_, or a _machiavil_[ ] could make him. the painter, 'tis true, from the fire of his genius might think the quiet objects of nature too tame for his pencil, and therefore chose to indulge it in its full power upon those of violence and horror: but poor _sandford_ was not the stage-villain by choice, but from necessity; for having a low and crooked person, such bodily defects were too strong to be admitted into great or amiable characters; so that whenever in any new or revived play there was a hateful or mischievous person, _sandford_ was sure to have no competitor for it: nor indeed (as we are not to suppose a villain or traitor can be shewn for our imitation, or not for our abhorrence) can it be doubted but the less comely the actor's person the fitter he may be to perform them. the spectator too, by not being misled by a tempting form, may be less inclin'd to excuse the wicked or immoral views or sentiments of them. and though the hard fate of an _oedipus_ might naturally give the humanity of an audience thrice the pleasure that could arise from the wilful wickedness of the best acted _creon,_ yet who could say that _sandford_ in such a part was not master of as true and just action as the best tragedian could be whose happier person had recommended him to the virtuous heroe, or any other more pleasing favourite of the imagination? in this disadvantageous light, then, stood _sandford_ as an actor; admir'd by the judicious, while the crowd only prais'd him by their prejudice.[ ] and so unusual had it been to see _sandford_ an innocent man in a play, that whenever he was so, the spectators would hardly give him credit in so gross an improbability. let me give you an odd instance of it, which i heard _monfort_ say was a real fact. a new play (the name of it i have forgot) was brought upon the stage, wherein _sandford_ happen'd to perform the part of an honest statesman: the pit, after they had sate three or four acts in a quiet expectation that the well-dissembled honesty of _sandford_ (for such of course they concluded it) would soon be discover'd, or at least, from its security, involve the actors in the play in some surprizing distress or confusion, which might raise and animate the scenes to come; when, at last, finding no such matter, but that the catastrophe had taken quite another turn, and that _sandford_ was really an honest man to the end of the play, they fairly damn'd it, as if the author had impos'd upon them the most frontless or incredible absurdity.[ ] it is not improbable but that from _sandford_'s so masterly personating characters of guilt, the inferior actors might think his success chiefly owing to the defects of his person; and from thence might take occasion, whenever they appear'd as bravo's or murtherers, to make themselves as frightful and as inhuman figures as possible. in king _charles_'s time, this low skill was carry'd to such an extravagance, that the king himself, who was black-brow'd and of a swarthy complexion, pass'd a pleasant remark upon his observing the grim looks of the murtherers in _mackbeth_; when, turning to his people in the box about him, _pray, what is the meaning_, said he, _that we never see a rogue in a play, but, godsfish! they always clap him on a black perriwig? when it is well known one of the greatest rogues in_ england _always wears a fair one_? now, whether or no dr. _oates_ at that time wore his own hair i cannot be positive: or, if his majesty pointed at some greater man then out of power, i leave those to guess at him who may yet remember the changing complexion of his ministers.[ ] this story i had from _betterton_, who was a man of veracity: and i confess i should have thought the king's observation a very just one, though he himself had been fair as _adonis_. nor can i in this question help voting with the court; for were it not too gross a weakness to employ in wicked purposes men whose very suspected looks might be enough to betray them? or are we to suppose it unnatural that a murther should be thoroughly committed out of an old red coat and a black perriwig? for my own part, i profess myself to have been an admirer of _sandford_, and have often lamented that his masterly performance could not be rewarded with that applause which i saw much inferior actors met with, merely because they stood in more laudable characters. for, tho' it may be a merit in an audience to applaud sentiments of virtue and honour; yet there seems to be an equal justice that no distinction should be made as to the excellence of an actor, whether in a good or evil character; since neither the vice nor the virtue of it is his own, but given him by the poet: therefore, why is not the actor who shines in either equally commendable?--no, sir; this may be reason, but that is not always a rule with us; the spectator will tell you, that when virtue is applauded he gives part of it to himself; because his applause at the same time lets others about him see that he himself admires it. but when a wicked action is going forward; when an _iago_ is meditating revenge and mischief; tho' art and nature may be equally strong in the actor, the spectator is shy of his applause, lest he should in some sort be look'd upon as an aider or an abettor of the wickedness in view; and therefore rather chuses to rob the actor of the praise he may merit, than give it him in a character which he would have you see his silence modestly discourages. from the same fond principle many actors have made it a point to be seen in parts sometimes even flatly written, only because they stood in the favourable light of honour and virtue.[ ] i have formerly known an actress carry this theatrical prudery to such a height, that she was very near keeping herself chaste by it: her fondness for virtue on the stage she began to think might perswade the world that it had made an impression on her private life; and the appearances of it actually went so far that, in an epilogue to an obscure play, the profits of which were given to her, and wherein she acted a part of impregnable chastity, she bespoke the favour of the ladies by a protestation that in honour of their goodness and virtue she would dedicate her unblemish'd life to their example. part of this vestal vow, i remember, was contain'd in the following verse: _study to live the character i play_.[ ] but alas! how weak are the strongest works of art when nature besieges it? for though this good creature so far held out her distaste to mankind that they could never reduce her to marry any one of 'em; yet we must own she grew, like _cæsar_, greater by her fall! her first heroick motive to a surrender was to save the life of a lover who in his despair had vow'd to destroy himself, with which act of mercy (in a jealous dispute once in my hearing) she was provoked to reproach him in these very words: _villain! did not i save your life?_ the generous lover, in return to that first tender obligation, gave life to her first-born,[ ] and that pious offspring has since raised to her memory several innocent grandchildren. so that, as we see, it is not the hood that makes the monk, nor the veil the vestal; i am apt to think that if the personal morals of an actor were to be weighed by his appearance on the stage, the advantage and favour (if any were due to either side) might rather incline to the traitor than the heroe, to the _sempronius_ than the _cato_, or to the _syphax_ than the _juba_: because no man can naturally desire to cover his honesty with a wicked appearance; but an ill man might possibly incline to cover his guilt with the appearance of virtue, which was the case of the frail fair one now mentioned. but be this question decided as it may, _sandford_ always appear'd to me the honester man in proportion to the spirit wherewith he exposed the wicked and immoral characters he acted: for had his heart been unsound, or tainted with the least guilt of them, his conscience must, in spite of him, in any too near a resemblance of himself, have been a check upon the vivacity of his action. _sandford_ therefore might be said to have contributed his equal share with the foremost actors to the true and laudable use of the stage: and in this light too, of being so frequently the object of common distaste, we may honestly stile him a theatrical martyr to poetical justice: for in making vice odious or virtue amiable, where does the merit differ? to hate the one or love the other are but leading steps to the same temple of fame, tho' at different portals.[ ] this actor, in his manner of speaking, varied very much from those i have already mentioned. his voice had an acute and piercing tone, which struck every syllable of his words distinctly upon the ear. he had likewise a peculiar skill in his look of marking out to an audience whatever he judg'd worth their more than ordinary notice. when he deliver'd a command, he would sometimes give it more force by seeming to slight the ornament of harmony. in _dryden_'s plays of rhime, he as little as possible glutted the ear with the jingle of it, rather chusing, when the sense would permit him, to lose it, than to value it. had _sandford_ liv'd in _shakespear_'s time, i am confident his judgment must have chose him above all other actors to have play'd his _richard the third_: i leave his person out of the question, which, tho' naturally made for it, yet that would have been the least part of his recommendation; _sandford_ had stronger claims to it; he had sometimes an uncouth stateliness in his motion, a harsh and sullen pride of speech, a meditating brow, a stern aspect, occasionally changing into an almost ludicrous triumph over all goodness and virtue: from thence falling into the most asswasive gentleness and soothing candour of a designing heart. these, i say, must have preferr'd him to it; these would have been colours so essentially shining in that character, that it will be no dispraise to that great author to say, _sandford_ must have shewn as many masterly strokes in it (had he ever acted it) as are visible in the writing it.[ ] when i first brought _richard the third_[ ] (with such alterations as i thought not improper) to the stage, _sandford_ was engaged in the company then acting under king _william_'s licence in _lincoln's-inn-fields_; otherwise you cannot but suppose my interest must have offer'd him that part. what encouraged me, therefore, to attempt it myself at the _theatre-royal_, was that i imagined i knew how _sandford_ would have spoken every line of it: if, therefore, in any part of it i succeeded, let the merit be given to him: and how far i succeeded in that light, those only can be judges who remember him. in order, therefore, to give you a nearer idea of _sandford_, you must give me leave (compell'd as i am to be vain) to tell you that the late sir _john vanbrugh_, who was an admirer of _sandford_, after he had seen me act it, assur'd me that he never knew any one actor so particularly profit by another as i had done by _sandford_ in _richard the third_: _you have_, said he, _his very look, gesture, gait, speech, and every motion of him, and have borrow'd them all only to serve you in that character_. if, therefore, sir _john vanbrugh_'s observation was just, they who remember me in _richard the third_ may have a nearer conception of _sandford_ than from all the critical account i can give of him.[ ] i come now to those other men actors, who at this time were equally famous in the lower life of comedy. but i find myself more at a loss to give you them in their true and proper light, than those i have already set before you. why the tragedian warms us into joy or admiration, or sets our eyes on flow with pity, we can easily explain to another's apprehension: but it may sometimes puzzle the gravest spectator to account for that familiar violence of laughter that shall seize him at some particular strokes of a true comedian. how then shall i describe what a better judge might not be able to express? the rules to please the fancy cannot so easily be laid down as those that ought to govern the judgment. the decency, too, that must be observed in tragedy, reduces, by the manner of speaking it, one actor to be much more like another than they can or need be supposed to be in comedy: there the laws of action give them such free and almost unlimited liberties to play and wanton with nature, that the voice, look, and gesture of a comedian may be as various as the manners and faces of the whole mankind are different from one another. these are the difficulties i lie under. where i want words, therefore, to describe what i may commend, i can only hope you will give credit to my opinion: and this credit i shall most stand in need of, when i tell you, that: _nokes_[ ] was an actor of a quite different genius from any i have ever read, heard of, or seen, since or before his time; and yet his general excellence may be comprehended in one article, _viz._ a plain and palpable simplicity of nature, which was so utterly his own, that he was often as unaccountably diverting in his common speech as on the stage. i saw him once giving an account of some table-talk to another actor behind the scenes, which a man of quality accidentally listening to, was so deceived by his manner, that he ask'd him if that was a new play he was rehearsing? it seems almost amazing that this simplicity, so easy to _nokes_, should never be caught by any one of his successors. _leigh_ and _underhil_ have been well copied, tho' not equall'd by others. but not all the mimical skill of _estcourt_ (fam'd as he was for it) tho' he had often seen _nokes_, could scarce give us an idea of him. after this perhaps it will be saying less of him, when i own, that though i have still the sound of every line he spoke in my ear, (which us'd not to be thought a bad one) yet i have often try'd by myself, but in vain, to reach the least distant likeness of the _vis comica_ of _nokes_. though this may seem little to his praise, it may be negatively saying a good deal to it, because i have never seen any one actor, except himself, whom i could not at least so far imitate as to give you a more than tolerable notion of his manner. but _nokes_ was so singular a species, and was so form'd by nature for the stage, that i question if (beyond the trouble of getting words by heart) it ever cost him an hour's labour to arrive at that high reputation he had, and deserved. the characters he particularly shone in, were sir _martin marr-all_, _gomez_ in the _spanish friar_, sir _nicolas cully_ in _love in a tub_,[ ] _barnaby brittle_ in the _wanton wife_, sir _davy dunce_ in the _soldier's fortune_, _sosia_ in _amphytrion_,[ ] &c. &c. &c. to tell you how he acted them is beyond the reach of criticism: but to tell you what effect his action had upon the spectator is not impossible: this then is all you will expect from me, and from hence i must leave you to guess at him. he scarce ever made his first entrance in a play but he was received with an involuntary applause, not of hands only, for those may be, and have often been partially prostituted and bespoken, but by a general laughter which the very sight of him provoked and nature cou'd not resist; yet the louder the laugh the graver was his look upon it; and sure, the ridiculous solemnity of his features were enough to have set a whole bench of bishops into a titter, cou'd he have been honour'd (may it be no offence to suppose it) with such grave and right reverend auditors. in the ludicrous distresses which, by the laws of comedy, folly is often involv'd in, he sunk into such a mixture of piteous pusillanimity and a consternation so ruefully ridiculous and inconsolable, that when he had shook you to a fatigue of laughter it became a moot point whether you ought not to have pity'd him. when he debated any matter by himself, he would shut up his mouth with a dumb studious powt, and roll his full eye into such a vacant amazement, such a palpable ignorance of what to think of it, that his silent perplexity (which would sometimes hold him several minutes) gave your imagination as full content as the most absurd thing he could say upon it. in the character of sir _martin marr-all_, who is always committing blunders to the prejudice of his own interest, when he had brought himself to a dilemma in his affairs by vainly proceeding upon his own head, and was afterwards afraid to look his governing servant and counsellor in the face, what a copious and distressful harangue have i seen him make with his looks (while the house has been in one continued roar for several minutes) before he could prevail with his courage to speak a word to him! then might you have at once read in his face _vexation_--that his own measures, which he had piqued himself upon, had fail'd. _envy_--of his servant's superior wit--_distress_--to retrieve the occasion he had lost. _shame_--to confess his folly; and yet a sullen desire to be reconciled and better advised for the future! what tragedy ever shew'd us such a tumult of passions rising at once in one bosom! or what buskin'd heroe standing under the load of them could have more effectually mov'd his spectators by the most pathetick speech, than poor miserable _nokes_ did by this silent eloquence and piteous plight of his features? his person was of the middle size, his voice clear and audible; his natural countenance grave and sober; but the moment he spoke the settled seriousness of his features was utterly discharg'd, and a dry, drolling, or laughing levity took such full possession of him that i can only refer the idea of him to your imagination. in some of his low characters, that became it, he had a shuffling shamble in his gait, with so contented an ignorance in his aspect and an aukward absurdity in his gesture, that had you not known him, you could not have believ'd that naturally he could have had a grain of common sense. in a word, i am tempted to sum up the character of _nokes_, as a comedian, in a parodie of what _shakespear_'s _mark antony_ says of _brutus_ as a hero. _his life was laughter, and the_ ludicrous _so mixt in him, that nature might stand up and say to all the world--this was an_ actor.[ ] _leigh_ was of the mercurial kind, and though not so strict an observer of nature, yet never so wanton in his performance as to be wholly out of her sight. in humour he lov'd to take a full career, but was careful enough to stop short when just upon the precipice: he had great variety in his manner, and was famous in very different characters: in the canting, grave hypocrisy of the _spanish_ friar he stretcht the veil of piety so thinly over him, that in every look, word, and motion you saw a palpable, wicked slyness shine through it--here he kept his vivacity demurely confin'd till the pretended duty of his function demanded it, and then he exerted it with a cholerick sacerdotal insolence. but the friar is a character of such glaring vice and so strongly drawn, that a very indifferent actor cannot but hit upon the broad jests that are remarkable in every scene of it. though i have never yet seen any one that has fill'd them with half the truth and spirit of _leigh_----_leigh_ rais'd the character as much above the poet's imagination as the character has sometimes rais'd other actors above themselves! and i do not doubt but the poet's knowledge of _leigh_'s genius help'd him to many a pleasant stroke of nature, which without that knowledge never might have enter'd into his conception. _leigh_ was so eminent in this character that the late earl of _dorset_ (who was equally an admirer and a judge of theatrical merit) had a whole length of him, in the friar's habit, drawn by _kneller_: the whole portrait is highly painted, and extremely like him. but no wonder _leigh_ arriv'd to such fame in what was so compleatly written for him, when characters that would make the reader yawn in the closet, have, by the strength of his action, been lifted into the lowdest laughter on the stage. of this kind was the scrivener's great boobily son in the _villain_;[ ] _ralph_, a stupid, staring under-servant, in sir _solomon single_.[ ] quite opposite to those were sir _jolly jumble_ in the _soldier's fortune_,[ ] and his old _belfond_ in the _squire of alsatia_.[ ] in sir _jolly_ he was all life and laughing humour, and when _nokes_ acted with him in the same play, they returned the ball so dexterously upon one another, that every scene between them seem'd but one continued rest[ ] of excellence----but alas! when those actors were gone, that comedy and many others, for the same reason, were rarely known to stand upon their own legs; by seeing no more of _leigh_ or _nokes_ in them, the characters were quite sunk and alter'd. in his sir _william belfond_, _leigh_ shew'd a more spirited variety than ever i saw any actor, in any one character, come up to: the poet, 'tis true, had here exactly chalked for him the out-lines of nature; but the high colouring, the strong lights and shades of humour that enliven'd the whole and struck our admiration with surprize and delight, were wholly owing to the actor. the easy reader might, perhaps, have been pleased with the author without discomposing a feature, but the spectator must have heartily held his sides, or the actor would have heartily made them ach for it. [illustration: anthony leigh.] now, though i observ'd before that _nokes_ never was tolerably touch'd by any of his successors, yet in this character i must own i have seen _leigh_ extremely well imitated by my late facetious friend _penkethman_, who, tho' far short of what was inimitable in the original, yet, as to the general resemblance, was a very valuable copy of him: and, as i know _penkethman_ cannot yet be out of your memory, i have chosen to mention him here, to give you the nearest idea i can of the excellence of _leigh_ in that particular light: for _leigh_ had many masterly variations which the other cou'd not, nor ever pretended to reach, particularly in the dotage and follies of extreme old age, in the characters of _fumble_ in the _fond husband_,[ ] and the toothless lawyer[ ] in the _city politicks_, both which plays liv'd only by the extraordinary performance of _nokes_ and _leigh_. there were two other characters of the farcical kind, _geta_ in the _prophetess_, and _crack_ in sir _courtly nice_, which, as they are less confin'd to nature, the imitation of them was less difficult to _penkethman_,[ ] who, to say the truth, delighted more in the whimsical than the natural; therefore, when i say he sometimes resembled _leigh_, i reserve this distinction on his master's side, that the pleasant extravagancies of _leigh_ were all the flowers of his own fancy, while the less fertile brain of my friend was contented to make use of the stock his predecessor had left him. what i have said, therefore, is not to detract from honest _pinky_'s merit, but to do justice to his predecessor----and though, 'tis true, we as seldom see a good actor as a great poet arise from the bare _imitation_ of another's genius, yet if this be a general rule, _penkethman_ was the nearest to an exception from it; for with those who never knew _leigh_ he might very well have pass'd for a more than common original. yet again, as my partiality for _penkethman_ ought not to lead me from truth, i must beg leave (though out of its place) to tell you fairly what was the best of him, that the superiority of _leigh_ may stand in its due light----_penkethman_ had certainly from nature a great deal of comic power about him, but his judgment was by no means equal to it; for he would make frequent deviations into the whimsies of an _harlequin_. by the way, (let me digress a little farther) whatever allowances are made for the licence of that character, i mean of an _harlequin_, whatever pretences may be urged, from the practice of the ancient comedy, for its being play'd in a mask, resembling no part of the human species, i am apt to think the best excuse a modern actor can plead for his continuing it, is that the low, senseless, and monstrous things he says and does in it no theatrical assurance could get through with a bare face: let me give you an instance of even _penkethman_'s being out of countenance for want of it: when he first play'd _harlequin_ in the _emperor_ of the _moon_,[ ] several gentlemen (who inadvertently judg'd by the rules of nature) fancied that a great deal of the drollery and spirit of his grimace was lost by his wearing that useless, unmeaning masque of a black cat, and therefore insisted that the next time of his acting that part he should play without it: their desire was accordingly comply'd with----but, alas! in vain--_penkethman_ could not take to himself the shame of the character without being concealed--he was no more _harlequin_--his humour was quite disconcerted! his conscience could not with the same _effronterie_ declare against nature without the cover of that unchanging face, which he was sure would never blush for it! no! it was quite another case! without that armour his courage could not come up to the bold strokes that were necessary to get the better of common sense. now if this circumstance will justify the modesty of _penkethman_, it cannot but throw a wholesome contempt on the low merit of an _harlequin_. but how farther necessary the masque is to that fool's coat, we have lately had a stronger proof in the favour that the _harlequin sauvage_ met with at _paris_, and the ill fate that followed the same _sauvage_ when he pull'd off his masque in _london_.[ ] so that it seems what was wit from an _harlequin_ was something too extravagant from a human creature. if, therefore, _penkethman_ in characters drawn from nature might sometimes launch out into a few gamesome liberties which would not have been excused from a more correct comedian, yet, in his manner of taking them, he always seem'd to me in a kind of consciousness of the hazard he was running, as if he fairly confess'd that what he did was only as well as he _could_ do----that he was willing to take his chance for success, but if he did not meet with it a rebuke should break no squares; he would mend it another time, and would take whatever pleas'd his judges to think of him in good part; and i have often thought that a good deal of the favour he met with was owing to this seeming humble way of waving all pretences to merit but what the town would please to allow him. what confirms me in this opinion is, that when it has been his ill fortune to meet with a _disgraccia_, i have known him say apart to himself, yet loud enough to be heard----_odso!_ i believe i _am a little wrong here_! which once was so well receiv'd by the audience that they turn'd their reproof into applause.[ ] now, the judgment of _leigh_ always guarded the happier sallies of his fancy from the least hazard of disapprobation: he seem'd not to court, but to attack your applause, and always came off victorious; nor did his highest assurance amount to any more than that just confidence without which the commendable spirit of every good actor must be abated; and of this spirit _leigh_ was a most perfect master. he was much admir'd by king _charles_, who us'd to distinguish him when spoke of by the title of _his actor_: which however makes me imagine that in his exile that prince might have receiv'd his first impression of good actors from the _french_ stage; for _leigh_ had more of that farcical vivacity than _nokes_; but _nokes_ was never languid by his more strict adherence to nature, and as far as my judgment is worth taking, if their intrinsick merit could be justly weigh'd, _nokes_ must have had the better in the balance. upon the unfortunate death of _monfort_, _leigh_ fell ill of a fever, and dy'd in a week after him, in _december _.[ ] _underhil_ was a correct and natural comedian, his particular excellence was in characters that may be called still-life, i mean the stiff, the heavy, and the stupid; to these he gave the exactest and most expressive colours, and in some of them look'd as if it were not in the power of human passions to alter a feature of him. in the solemn formality of _obadiah_ in the _committee_, and in the boobily heaviness of _lolpoop_ in the _squire of alsatia_, he seem'd the immoveable log he stood for! a countenance of wood could not be more fixt than his, when the blockhead of a character required it: his face was full and long; from his crown to the end of his nose was the shorter half of it, so that the disproportion of his lower features, when soberly compos'd, with an unwandering eye hanging over them, threw him into the most lumpish, moping mortal that ever made beholders merry! not but at other times he could be wakened into spirit equally ridiculous----in the course, rustick humour of justice _clodpate_, in _epsome wells_,[ ] he was a delightful brute! and in the blunt vivacity of sir _sampson_, in _love for love_, he shew'd all that true perverse spirit that is commonly seen in much wit and ill-nature. this character is one of those few so well written, with so much wit and humour, that an actor must be the grossest dunce that does not appear with an unusual life in it: but it will still shew as great a proportion of skill to come near _underhil_ in the acting it, which (not to undervalue those who soon came after him) i have not yet seen. he was particularly admir'd too for the gravedigger in _hamlet_. the author of the _tatler_ recommends him to the favour of the town upon that play's being acted for his benefit, wherein, after his age had some years oblig'd him to leave the stage, he came on again, for that day, to perform his old part;[ ] but, alas! so worn and disabled, as if himself was to have lain in the grave he was digging; when he could no more excite laughter, his infirmities were dismiss'd with pity: he dy'd soon after, a superannuated pensioner in the list of those who were supported by the joint sharers under the first patent granted to sir _richard steele_. the deep impressions of these excellent actors which i receiv'd in my youth, i am afraid may have drawn me into the common foible of us old fellows; which is a fondness, and perhaps a tedious partiality, for the pleasures we have formerly tasted, and think are now fallen off because we can no longer enjoy them. if therefore i lie under that suspicion, tho' i have related nothing incredible or out of the reach of a good judge's conception, i must appeal to those few who are about my own age for the truth and likeness of these theatrical portraits. there were at this time several others in some degree of favour with the publick, _powel_,[ ] _verbruggen_,[ ] _williams_,[ ] &c. but as i cannot think their best improvements made them in any wise equal to those i have spoke of, i ought not to range them in the same class. neither were _wilks_ or _dogget_ yet come to the stage; nor was _booth_ initiated till about six years after them; or mrs. _oldfield_ known till the year . i must therefore reserve the four last for their proper period, and proceed to the actresses that were famous with _betterton_ at the latter end of the last century. mrs. _barry_ was then in possession of almost all the chief parts in tragedy: with what skill she gave life to them you will judge from the words of _dryden_ in his preface to _cleomenes_,[ ] where he says, _mrs._ barry, _always excellent, has in this tragedy excell'd herself, and gain'd a reputation beyond any woman i have ever seen on the theatre_. i very perfectly remember her acting that part; and however unnecessary it may seem to give my judgment after _dryden_'s, i cannot help saying i do not only close with his opinion, but will venture to add that (tho' _dryden_ has been dead these thirty eight years) the same compliment to this hour may be due to her excellence. and tho' she was then not a little past her youth, she was not till that time fully arriv'd to her maturity of power and judgment: from whence i would observe, that the short life of beauty is not long enough to form a complete actress. in men the delicacy of person is not so absolutely necessary, nor the decline of it so soon taken notice of. the fame mrs. _barry_ arriv'd to is a particular proof of the difficulty there is in judging with certainty, from their first trials, whether young people will ever make any great figure on a theatre. there was, it seems, so little hope of mrs. _barry_ at her first setting out, that she was at the end of the first year discharg'd the company, among others that were thought to be a useless expence to it. i take it for granted that the objection to mrs. _barry_ at that time must have been a defective ear, or some unskilful dissonance in her manner of pronouncing: but where there is a proper voice and person, with the addition of a good understanding, experience tells us that such defect is not always invincible; of which not only mrs. _barry_, but the late mrs. _oldfield_ are eminent instances. mrs. _oldfield_ had been a year in the theatre-royal before she was observ'd to give any tolerable hope of her being an actress; so unlike to all manner of propriety was her speaking![ ] how unaccountably, then, does a genius for the stage make its way towards perfection? for, notwithstanding these equal disadvantages, both these actresses, tho' of different excellence, made themselves complete mistresses of their art by the prevalence of their understanding. if this observation may be of any use to the masters of future theatres, i shall not then have made it to no purpose.[ ] mrs. _barry_, in characters of greatness, had a presence of elevated dignity, her mien and motion superb and gracefully majestick; her voice full, clear, and strong, so that no violence of passion could be too much for her: and when distress or tenderness possess'd her, she subsided into the most affecting melody and softness. in the art of exciting pity she had a power beyond all the actresses i have yet seen, or what your imagination can conceive. of the former of these two great excellencies she gave the most delightful proofs in almost all the heroic plays of _dryden_ and _lee_; and of the latter, in the softer passions of _otway's monimia_ and _belvidera_.[ ] in scenes of anger, defiance, or resentment, while she was impetuous and terrible, she pour'd out the sentiment with an enchanting harmony; and it was this particular excellence for which _dryden_ made her the above-recited compliment upon her acting _cassandra_ in his _cleomenes_. but here i am apt to think his partiality for that character may have tempted his judgment to let it pass for her master-piece, when he could not but know there were several other characters in which her action might have given her a fairer pretence to the praise he has bestow'd on her for _cassandra_; for in no part of that is there the least ground for compassion, as in _monimia_, nor equal cause for admiration, as in the nobler love of _cleopatra_, or the tempestuous jealousy of _roxana_.[ ] 'twas in these lights i thought mrs. _barry_ shone with a much brighter excellence than in _cassandra_. she was the first person whose merit was distinguish'd by the indulgence of having an annual benefit-play, which was granted to her alone, if i mistake not, first in king _james_'s time,[ ] and which became not common to others 'till the division of this company after the death of king _william_'s queen _mary_. this great actress dy'd of a fever towards the latter end of queen _anne_; the year i have forgot; but perhaps you will recollect it by an expression that fell from her in blank verse, in her last hours, when she was delirious, _viz_. _ha, ha! and so they make us lords, by dozens!_[ ] mrs. _betterton_, tho' far advanc'd in years, was so great a mistress of nature that even mrs. _barry_, who acted the lady _macbeth_ after her, could not in that part, with all her superior strength and melody of voice, throw out those quick and careless strokes of terror from the disorder of a guilty mind, which the other gave us with a facility in her manner that render'd them at once tremendous and delightful. time could not impair her skill, tho' he had brought her person to decay. she was, to the last, the admiration of all true judges of nature and lovers of _shakespear_, in whose plays she chiefly excell'd, and without a rival. when she quitted the stage several good actresses were the better for her instruction. she was a woman of an unblemish'd and sober life, and had the honour to teach queen _anne_, when princess, the part of _semandra_ in _mithridates_, which she acted at court in king _charles_'s time. after the death of mr. _betterton_, her husband, that princess, when queen, order'd her a pension for life, but she liv'd not to receive more than the first half year of it.[ ] [illustration: elizabeth barry.] mrs. _leigh_, the wife of _leigh_ already mention'd, had a very droll way of dressing the pretty foibles of superannuated beauties. she had in her self a good deal of humour, and knew how to infuse it into the affected mothers, aunts, and modest stale maids that had miss'd their market; of this sort were the modish mother in the _chances_, affecting to be politely commode for her own daughter; the coquette prude of an aunt in sir _courtly nice_, who prides herself in being chaste and cruel at fifty; and the languishing lady _wishfort_ in _the way of the world_: in all these, with many others, she was extremely entertaining, and painted in a lively manner the blind side of nature.[ ] mrs. _butler_, who had her christian name of _charlotte_ given her by king _charles_, was the daughter of a decay'd knight, and had the honour of that prince's recommendation to the theatre; a provident restitution, giving to the stage in kind what he had sometimes taken from it: the publick at least was oblig'd by it; for she prov'd not only a good actress, but was allow'd in those days to sing and dance to great perfection. in the dramatick operas of _dioclesian_ and that of _king arthur_, she was a capital and admired performer. in speaking, too, she had a sweet-ton'd voice, which, with her naturally genteel air and sensible pronunciation, render'd her wholly mistress of the amiable in many serious characters. in parts of humour, too, she had a manner of blending her assuasive softness even with the gay, the lively, and the alluring. of this she gave an agreeable instance in her action of the (_villiers_) duke of _buckingham_'s second _constantia_ in the _chances_. in which, if i should say i have never seen her exceeded, i might still do no wrong to the late mrs. _oldfield_'s lively performance of the same character. mrs. _oldfield_'s fame may spare mrs. _butler_'s action this compliment, without the least diminution or dispute of her superiority in characters of more moment.[ ] here i cannot help observing, when there was but one theatre in _london_, at what unequal sallaries, compar'd to those of later days, the hired actors were then held by the absolute authority of their frugal masters the patentees; for mrs. _butler_ had then but forty shillings a week, and could she have obtain'd an addition of ten shillings more (which was refus'd her) would never have left their service; but being offer'd her own conditions to go with mr. _ashbury_[ ] to _dublin_ (who was then raising a company of actors for that theatre, where there had been none since the revolution) her discontent here prevail'd with her to accept of his offer, and he found his account in her value. were not those patentees most sagacious oeconomists that could lay hold on so notable an expedient to lessen their charge? how gladly, in my time of being a sharer, would we have given four times her income to an actress of equal merit? mrs. _monfort_, whose second marriage gave her the name of _verbruggen_, was mistress of more variety of humour than i ever knew in any one woman actress. this variety, too, was attended with an equal vivacity, which made her excellent in characters extremely different. as she was naturally a pleasant mimick, she had the skill to make that talent useful on the stage, a talent which may be surprising in a conversation and yet be lost when brought to the theatre, which was the case of _estcourt_ already mention'd: but where the elocution is round, distinct, voluble, and various, as mrs. _monfort_'s was, the mimick there is a great assistant to the actor. nothing, tho' ever so barren, if within the bounds of nature, could be flat in her hands. she gave many heightening touches to characters but coldly written, and often made an author vain of his work that in it self had but little merit. she was so fond of humour, in what low part soever to be found, that she would make no scruple of defacing her fair form to come heartily into it;[ ] for when she was eminent in several desirable characters of wit and humour in higher life, she would be in as much fancy when descending into the antiquated _abigail_[ ] of _fletcher_, as when triumphing in all the airs and vain graces of a fine lady; a merit that few actresses care for. in a play of _d'urfey's_, now forgotten, call'd _the western lass_,[ ] which part she acted, she transform'd her whole being, body, shape, voice, language, look, and features, into almost another animal, with a strong _devonshire_ dialect, a broad laughing voice, a poking head, round shoulders, an unconceiving eye, and the most bediz'ning, dowdy dress that ever cover'd the untrain'd limbs of a _joan trot_. to have seen her here you would have thought it impossible the same creature could ever have been recover'd to what was as easy to her, the gay, the lively, and the desirable. nor was her humour limited to her sex; for, while her shape permitted, she was a more adroit pretty fellow than is usually seen upon the stage: her easy air, action, mien, and gesture quite chang'd from the quoif to the cock'd hat and cavalier in fashion.[ ] people were so fond of seeing her a man, that when the part of _bays_ in the _rehearsal_ had for some time lain dormant, she was desired to take it up, which i have seen her act with all the true coxcombly spirit and humour that the sufficiency of the character required. but what found most employment for her whole various excellence at once, was the part of _melantha_ in _marriage-alamode_.[ ] _melantha_ is as finish'd an impertinent as ever flutter'd in a drawing-room, and seems to contain the most compleat system of female foppery that could possibly be crowded into the tortured form of a fine lady. her language, dress, motion, manners, soul, and body, are in a continual hurry to be something more than is necessary or commendable. and though i doubt it will be a vain labour to offer you a just likeness of mrs. _monfort_'s action, yet the fantastick impression is still so strong in my memory that i cannot help saying something, tho' fantastically, about it. the first ridiculous airs that break from her are upon a gallant never seen before, who delivers her a letter from her father recommending him to her good graces as an honourable lover.[ ] here now, one would think, she might naturally shew a little of the sexe's decent reserve, tho' never so slightly cover'd! no, sir; not a tittle of it; modesty is the virtue of a poor-soul'd country gentlewoman; she is too much a court lady to be under so vulgar a confusion; she reads the letter, therefore, with a careless, dropping lip and an erected brow, humming it hastily over as if she were impatient to outgo her father's commands by making a compleat conquest of him at once; and that the letter might not embarrass her attack, crack! she crumbles it at once into her palm and pours upon him her whole artillery of airs, eyes, and motion; down goes her dainty, diving body to the ground, as if she were sinking under the conscious load of her own attractions; then launches into a flood of fine language and compliment, still playing her chest forward in fifty falls and risings, like a swan upon waving water; and, to complete her impertinence, she is so rapidly fond of her own wit that she will not give her lover leave to praise it: silent assenting bows and vain endeavours to speak are all the share of the conversation he is admitted to, which at last he is relieved from by her engagement to half a score visits, which she _swims_ from him to make, with a promise to return in a twinkling. if this sketch has colour enough to give you any near conception of her, i then need only tell you that throughout the whole character her variety of humour was every way proportionable; as, indeed, in most parts that she thought worth her care or that had the least matter for her fancy to work upon, i may justly say, that no actress, from her own conception, could have heighten'd them with more lively strokes of nature.[ ] i come now to the last, and only living person, of all those whose theatrical characters i have promised you, mrs. _bracegirdle_; who, i know, would rather pass her remaining days forgotten as an actress, than to have her youth recollected in the most favourable light i am able to place it; yet, as she is essentially necessary to my theatrical history, and as i only bring her back to the company of those with whom she pass'd the spring and summer of her life, i hope it will excuse the liberty i take in commemorating the delight which the publick received from her appearance while she was an ornament to the theatre. mrs. _bracegirdle_ was now but just blooming to her maturity; her reputation as an actress gradually rising with that of her person; never any woman was in such general favour of her spectators, which, to the last scene of her dramatick life, she maintain'd by not being unguarded in her private character.[ ] this discretion contributed not a little to make her the _cara_, the darling of the theatre: for it will be no extravagant thing to say, scarce an audience saw her that were less than half of them lovers, without a suspected favourite among them: and tho' she might be said to have been the universal passion, and under the highest temptations, her constancy in resisting them served but to increase the number of her admirers: and this perhaps you will more easily believe when i extend not my encomiums on her person beyond a sincerity that can be suspected; for she had no greater claim to beauty than what the most desirable _brunette_ might pretend to. but her youth and lively aspect threw out such a glow of health and chearfulness, that on the stage few spectators that were not past it could behold her without desire. it was even a fashion among the gay and young to have a taste or _tendre_ for mrs. _bracegirdle_. she inspired the best authors to write for her, and two of them,[ ] when they gave her a lover in a play, seem'd palpably to plead their own passions, and make their private court to her in fictitious characters. in all the chief parts she acted, the desirable was so predominant, that no judge could be cold enough to consider from what other particular excellence she became delightful. to speak critically of an actress that was extremely good were as hazardous as to be positive in one's opinion of the best opera singer. people often judge by comparison where there is no similitude in the performance. so that, in this case, we have only taste to appeal to, and of taste there can be no disputing. i shall therefore only say of mrs. _bracegirdle_, that the most eminent authors always chose her for their favourite character, and shall leave that uncontestable proof of her merit to its own value. yet let me say, there were two very different characters in which she acquitted herself with uncommon applause: if any thing could excuse that desperate extravagance of love, that almost frantick passion of _lee's alexander the great_, it must have been when mrs. _bracegirdle_ was his _statira_: as when she acted _millamant_[ ] all the faults, follies, and affectations of that agreeable tyrant were venially melted down into so many charms and attractions of a conscious beauty. in other characters, where singing was a necessary part of them, her voice and action gave a pleasure which good sense, in those days, was not asham'd to give praise to. she retir'd from the stage in the height of her favour from the publick, when most of her cotemporaries whom she had been bred up with were declining, in the year ,[ ] nor could she be persuaded to return to it under new masters upon the most advantageous terms that were offered her; excepting one day, about a year after, to assist her good friend mr. _betterton_, when she play'd _angelica_ in _love for love_ for his benefit. she has still the happiness to retain her usual chearfulness, and to be, without the transitory charm of youth, agreeable.[ ] if, in my account of these memorable actors, i have not deviated from truth, which, in the least article, i am not conscious of, may we not venture to say, they had not their equals, at any one time, upon any theatre in _europe_? or, if we confine the comparison to that of _france_ alone, i believe no other stage can be much disparag'd by being left out of the question; which cannot properly be decided by the single merit of any one actor; whether their _baron_ or our _betterton_ might be the superior, (take which side you please) that point reaches, either way, but to a thirteenth part of what i contend for, _viz._ that no stage, at any one period, could shew thirteen actors, standing all in equal lights of excellence in their profession: and i am the bolder, in this challenge to any other nation, because no theatre having so extended a variety of natural characters as the _english_, can have a demand for actors of such various capacities; why then, where they could not be equally wanted, should we suppose them, at any one time, to have existed? how imperfect soever this copious account of them may be, i am not without hope, at least, it may in some degree shew what talents are requisite to make actors valuable: and if that may any ways inform or assist the judgment of future spectators, it may as often be of service to their publick entertainments; for as their hearers are, so will actors be; worse, or better, as the false or true taste applauds or discommends them. hence only can our theatres improve or must degenerate. there is another point, relating to the hard condition of those who write for the stage, which i would recommend to the consideration of their hearers; which is, that the extreme severity with which they damn a bad play seems too terrible a warning to those whose untried genius might hereafter give them a good one: whereas it might be a temptation to a latent author to make the experiment, could he be sure that, though not approved, his muse might at least be dismiss'd with decency: but the vivacity of our modern criticks is of late grown so riotous, that an unsuccessful author has no more mercy shewn him than a notorious cheat in a pillory; every fool, the lowest member of the mob, becomes a wit, and will have a fling at him. they come now to a new play like hounds to a carcase, and are all in a full cry, sometimes for an hour together, before the curtain rises to throw it amongst them. sure those gentlemen cannot but allow that a play condemned after a fair hearing falls with thrice the ignominy as when it is refused that common justice. but when their critical interruptions grow so loud, and of so long a continuance, that the attention of quiet people (though not so complete criticks) is terrify'd, and the skill of the actors quite disconcerted by the tumult, the play then seems rather to fall by assassins than by a lawful sentence.[ ] is it possible that such auditors can receive delight, or think it any praise to them, to prosecute so injurious, so unmanly a treatment? and tho' perhaps the compassionate, on the other side (who know they have as good a right to clap and support, as others have to catcall, damn, and destroy,) may oppose this oppression; their good-nature, alas! contributes little to the redress; for in this sort of civil war the unhappy author, like a good prince, while his subjects are at mortal variance, is sure to be a loser by a victory on either side; for still the common-wealth, his play, is, during the conflict, torn to pieces. while this is the case, while the theatre is so turbulent a sea and so infested with pirates, what poetical merchant of any substance will venture to trade in it? if these valiant gentlemen pretend to be lovers of plays, why will they deter gentlemen from giving them such as are fit for gentlemen to see? in a word, this new race of criticks seem to me like the lion-whelps in the _tower_, who are so boisterously gamesome at their meals that they dash down the bowls of milk brought for their own breakfast.[ ] as a good play is certainly the most rational and the highest entertainment that human invention can produce, let that be my apology (if i need any) for having thus freely deliver'd my mind in behalf of those gentlemen who, under such calamitous hazards, may hereafter be reduced to write for the stage, whose case i shall compassionate from the same motive that prevail'd on _dido_ to assist the _trojans_ in distress. _non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco._ virg.[ ] or, as _dryden_ has it, _i learn to pity woes so like my own_. if those particular gentlemen have sometimes made me the humbled object of their wit and humour, their triumph at least has done me this involuntary service, that it has driven me a year or two sooner into a quiet life than otherwise my own want of judgment might have led me to:[ ] i left the stage before my strength left me, and tho' i came to it again for some few days a year or two after, my reception there not only turn'd to my account, but seem'd a fair invitation that i would make my visits more frequent: but to give over a winner can be no very imprudent resolution.[ ] chapter vi. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the author's first step upon the stage. his discouragements. the best actors in_ europe _ill us'd. a revolution in their favour. king_ william _grants them a licence to act in_ lincoln's-inn fields. _the author's distress in being thought a worse actor than a poet. reduc'd to write a part for himself. his success. more remarks upon theatrical action. some upon himself._ having given you the state of the theatre at my first admission to it, i am now drawing towards the several revolutions it suffer'd in my own time. but (as you find by the setting out of my history) that i always intended myself the heroe of it, it may be necessary to let you know me in my obscurity, as well as in my higher light, when i became one of the theatrical triumvirat. the patentees,[ ] who were now masters of this united and only company of comedians, seem'd to make it a rule that no young persons desirous to be actors should be admitted into pay under at least half a year's probation, wisely knowing that how early soever they might be approv'd of, there could be no great fear of losing them while they had then no other market to go to. but, alas! pay was the least of my concern; the joy and privilege of every day seeing plays for nothing i thought was a sufficient consideration for the best of my services. so that it was no pain to my patience that i waited full three quarters of a year before i was taken into a salary of ten shillings _per_ week;[ ] which, with the assistance of food and raiment at my father's house, i then thought a most plentiful accession, and myself the happiest of mortals. the first thing that enters into the head of a young actor is that of being a heroe: in this ambition i was soon snubb'd by the insufficiency of my voice; to which might be added an uninform'd meagre person, (tho' then not ill made) with a dismal pale complexion.[ ] under these disadvantages,[ ] i had but a melancholy prospect of ever playing a lover with mrs. _bracegirdle_, which i had flatter'd my hopes that my youth might one day have recommended me to. what was most promising in me, then, was the aptness of my ear; for i was soon allow'd to speak justly, tho' what was grave and serious did not equally become me. the first part, therefore, in which i appear'd with any glimpse of success, was the chaplain[ ] in the _orphan_ of _otway._ there is in this character (of one scene only) a decent pleasantry, and sense enough to shew an audience whether the actor has any himself. here was the first applause i ever receiv'd, which, you may be sure, made my heart leap with a higher joy than may be necessary to describe; and yet my transport was not then half so high as at what _goodman_ (who had now left the stage) said of me the next day in my hearing. _goodman_ often came to a rehearsal for amusement, and having sate out the _orphan_ the day before, in a conversation with some of the principal actors enquir'd what new young fellow that was whom he had seen in the chaplain? upon which _monfort_ reply'd, _that's he, behind you. goodman_ then turning about, look'd earnestly at me, and, after some pause, clapping me on the shoulder, rejoin'd, _if he does not make a good actor, i'll be d----'d_! the surprize of being commended by one who had been himself so eminent on the stage, and in so positive a manner, was more than i could support; in a word, it almost took away my breath, and (laugh, if you please) fairly drew tears from my eyes! and, tho' it may be as ridiculous as incredible to tell you what a full vanity and content at that time possess'd me, i will still make it a question whether _alexander_ himself, or _charles the twelfth_ of _sweden,_ when at the head of their first victorious armies, could feel a greater transport in their bosoms than i did then in mine, when but in the rear of this troop of comedians. you see to what low particulars i am forc'd to descend to give you a true resemblance of the early and lively follies of my mind. let me give you another instance of my discretion, more desperate than that of preferring the stage to any other views of life. one might think that the madness of breaking from the advice and care of parents to turn player could not easily be exceeded: but what think you, sir, of----matrimony? which, before i was two-and-twenty, i actually committed,[ ] when i had but twenty pounds a year, which my father had assur'd to me, and twenty shillings a week from my theatrical labours, to maintain, as i then thought, the happiest young couple that ever took a leap in the dark! if after this, to complete my fortune, i turn'd poet too, this last folly indeed had something a better excuse--necessity: had it never been my lot to have come on the stage, 'tis probable i might never have been inclin'd or reduc'd to have wrote for it: but having once expos'd my person there, i thought it could be no additional dishonour to let my parts, whatever they were, take their fortune along with it.--but to return to the progress i made as an actor. queen _mary_ having commanded the _double dealer_ to be acted, _kynaston_ happen'd to be so ill that he could not hope to be able next day to perform his part of the lord _touchwood_. in this exigence, the author, mr. _congreve_, advis'd that it might be given to me, if at so short a warning i would undertake it.[ ] the flattery of being thus distinguish'd by so celebrated an author, and the honour to act before a queen, you may be sure made me blind to whatever difficulties might attend it. i accepted the part, and was ready in it before i slept; next day the queen was present at the play, and was receiv'd with a new prologue from the author, spoken by mrs. _barry_, humbly acknowledging the great honour done to the stage, and to his play in particular: two lines of it, which tho' i have not since read, i still remember. _but never were in_ rome _nor_ athens _seen, so fair a circle, or so bright a queen_. after the play, mr. _congreve_ made me the compliment of saying, that i had not only answer'd, but had exceeded his expectations, and that he would shew me he was sincere by his saying more of me to the masters.----he was as good as his word, and the next pay-day i found my sallary of fifteen was then advanc'd to twenty shillings a week. but alas! this favourable opinion of mr. _congreve_ made no farther impression upon the judgment of my good masters; it only serv'd to heighten my own vanity, but could not recommend me to any new trials of my capacity; not a step farther could i get 'till the company was again divided, when the desertion of the best actors left a clear stage for younger champions to mount and shew their best pretensions to favour. but it is now time to enter upon those facts that immediately preceded this remarkable revolution of the theatre. you have seen how complete a set of actors were under the government of the united patents in ; if their gains were not extraordinary, what shall we impute it to but some extraordinary ill menagement? i was then too young to be in their secrets, and therefore can only observe upon what i saw and have since thought visibly wrong. though the success of the _prophetess_[ ] and _king arthur_[ ] (two dramatic operas, in which the patentees had embark'd all their hopes) was in appearance very great, yet their whole receipts did not so far balance their expence as to keep them out of a large debt, which it was publickly known was about this time contracted, and which found work for the court of chancery for about twenty years following, till one side of the cause grew weary. but this was not all that was wrong; every branch of the theatrical trade had been sacrific'd to the necessary fitting out those tall ships of burthen that were to bring home the _indies_. plays of course were neglected, actors held cheap, and slightly dress'd, while singers and dancers were better paid, and embroider'd. these measures, of course, created murmurings on one side, and ill-humour and contempt on the other. when it became necessary therefore to lessen the charge, a resolution was taken to begin with the sallaries of the actors; and what seem'd to make this resolution more necessary at this time was the loss of _nokes_, _monfort_, and _leigh_, who all dy'd about the same year:[ ] no wonder then, if when these great pillars were at once remov'd, the building grew weaker and the audiences very much abated. now in this distress, what more natural remedy could be found than to incite and encourage (tho' with some hazard) the industry of the surviving actors? but the patentees, it seems, thought the surer way was to bring down their pay in proportion to the fall of their audiences. to make this project more feasible they propos'd to begin at the head of 'em, rightly judging that if the principals acquiesc'd, their inferiors would murmur in vain. to bring this about with a better grace, they, under pretence of bringing younger actors forward, order'd several of _betterton_'s and mrs. _barry_'s chief parts to be given to young _powel_ and mrs. _bracegirdle_. in this they committed two palpable errors; for while the best actors are in health, and still on the stage, the publick is always apt to be out of humour when those of a lower class pretend to stand in their places; or admitting at this time they might have been accepted, this project might very probably have lessen'd, but could not possibly mend an audience, and was a sure loss of that time, in studying, which might have been better employ'd in giving the auditor variety, the only temptation to a pall'd appetite; and variety is only to be given by industry: but industry will always be lame when the actor has reason to be discontented. this the patentees did not consider, or pretended not to value, while they thought their power secure and uncontroulable: but farther their first project did not succeed; for tho' the giddy head of _powel_ accepted the parts of _betterton_, mrs. _bracegirdle_ had a different way of thinking, and desir'd to be excus'd from those of mrs. _barry_; her good sense was not to be misled by the insidious favour of the patentees; she knew the stage was wide enough for her success, without entring into any such rash and invidious competition with mrs. _barry_, and therefore wholly refus'd acting any part that properly belong'd to her. but this proceeding, however, was warning enough to make _betterton_ be upon his guard, and to alarm others with apprehensions of their own safety, from the design that was laid against him: _betterton_ upon this drew into his party most of the valuable actors, who, to secure their unity, enter'd with him into a sort of association to stand or fall together.[ ] all this the patentees for some time slighted; but when matters drew towards a crisis, they found it adviseable to take the same measures, and accordingly open'd an association on their part; both which were severally sign'd, as the interest or inclination of either side led them. [illustration: mrs bracegirdle as "the indian queen."] during these contentions which the impolitick patentees had rais'd against themselves (not only by this i have mentioned, but by many other grievances which my memory retains not) the actors offer'd a treaty of peace; but their masters imagining no consequence could shake the right of their authority, refus'd all terms of accommodation. in the mean time this dissention was so prejudicial to their daily affairs, that i remember it was allow'd by both parties that before _christmas_ the patent had lost the getting of at least a thousand pounds by it. my having been a witness of this unnecessary rupture was of great use to me when, many years after, i came to be a menager my self. i laid it down as a settled maxim, that no company could flourish while the chief actors and the undertakers were at variance. i therefore made it a point, while it was possible upon tolerable terms, to keep the valuable actors in humour with their station; and tho' i was as jealous of their encroachments as any of my co-partners could be, i always guarded against the least warmth in my expostulations with them; not but at the same time they might see i was perhaps more determin'd in the question than those that gave a loose to their resentment, and when they were cool were as apt to recede.[ ] i do not remember that ever i made a promise to any that i did not keep, and therefore was cautious how i made them. this coldness, tho' it might not please, at least left them nothing to reproach me with; and if temper and fair words could prevent a disobligation, i was sure never to give offence or receive it.[ ] but as i was but one of three, i could not oblige others to observe the same conduct. however, by this means i kept many an unreasonable discontent from breaking out, and both sides found their account in it. how a contemptuous and overbearing manner of treating actors had like to have ruin'd us in our early prosperity shall be shewn in its place.[ ] if future menagers should chance to think my way right, i suppose they will follow it; if not, when they find what happen'd to the patentees (who chose to disagree with their people) perhaps they may think better of it. the patentees then, who by their united powers had made a monopoly of the stage, and consequently presum'd they might impose what conditions they pleased upon their people, did not consider that they were all this while endeavouring to enslave a set of actors whom the publick (more arbitrary than themselves) were inclined to support; nor did they reflect that the spectator naturally wish'd that the actor who gave him delight might enjoy the profits arising from his labour, without regard of what pretended damage or injustice might fall upon his owners, whose personal merit the publick was not so well acquainted with. from this consideration, then, several persons of the highest distinction espous'd their cause, and sometimes in the circle entertain'd the king with the state of the theatre. at length their grievances were laid before the earl of _dorset_, then lord chamberlain, who took the most effectual method for their relief.[ ] the learned of the law were advised with, and they gave their opinion that no patent for acting plays, _&c._ could tie up the hands of a succeeding prince from granting the like authority where it might be thought proper to trust it. but while this affair was in agitation, queen _mary_ dy'd,[ ] which of course occasion'd a cessation of all publick diversions. in this melancholy interim, _betterton_ and his adherents had more leisure to sollicit their redress; and the patentees now finding that the party against them was gathering strength, were reduced to make sure of as good a company as the leavings of _betterton_'s interest could form; and these, you may be sure, would not lose this occasion of setting a price upon their merit equal to their own opinion of it, which was but just double to what they had before. _powel_ and _verbruggen_, who had then but forty shillings a week, were now raised each of them to four pounds, and others in proportion: as for my self, i was then too insignificant to be taken into their councils, and consequently stood among those of little importance, like cattle in a market, to be sold to the first bidder. but the patentees seeming in the greater distress for actors, condescended to purchase me. thus, without any farther merit than that of being a scarce commodity, i was advanc'd to thirty shillings a week: yet our company was so far from being full,[ ] that our commanders were forced to beat up for volunteers in several distant counties; it was this occasion that first brought _johnson_[ ] and _bullock_[ ] to the service of the theatre-royal. forces being thus raised, and the war declared on both sides, _betterton_ and his chiefs had the honour of an audience of the _king_, who consider'd them as the only subjects whom he had not yet deliver'd from arbitrary power, and graciously dismiss'd them with an assurance of relief and support--accordingly a select number of them were impower'd by his royal licence[ ] to act in a separate theatre for themselves. this great point being obtain'd, many people of quality came into a voluntary subscription of twenty, and some of forty guineas a-piece, for erecting a theatre within the walls of the tennis-court in _lincoln's-inn-fields_.[ ] but as it required time to fit it up, it gave the patentees more leisure to muster their forces, who notwithstanding were not able to take the field till the _easter-monday_ in _april_ following. their first attempt was a reviv'd play call'd _abdelazar_, or the _moor's revenge_, poorly written, by mrs. _behn_. the house was very full, but whether it was the play or the actors that were not approved, the next day's audience sunk to nothing. however, we were assured that let the audiences be never so low, our masters would make good all deficiencies, and so indeed they did, 'till towards the end of the season, when dues to ballance came too thick upon 'em. but that i may go gradually on with my own fortune, i must take this occasion to let you know, by the following circumstance, how very low my capacity as an actor was then rated: it was thought necessary at our opening that the town should be address'd in a new prologue; but to our great distress, among several that were offer'd, not one was judg'd fit to be spoken. this i thought a favourable occasion to do my self some remarkable service, if i should have the good fortune to produce one that might be accepted. the next (memorable) day my muse brought forth her first fruit that was ever made publick; how good or bad imports not; my prologue was accepted, and resolv'd on to be spoken. this point being gain'd, i began to stand upon terms, you will say, not unreasonable; which were, that if i might speak it my self i would expect no farther reward for my labour: this was judg'd as bad as having no prologue at all! you may imagine how hard i thought it, that they durst not trust my poor poetical brat to my own care. but since i found it was to be given into other hands, i insisted that two guineas should be the price of my parting with it; which with a sigh i received, and _powel_ spoke the prologue: but every line that was applauded went sorely to my heart when i reflected that the same praise might have been given to my own speaking; nor could the success of the author compensate the distress of the actor. however, in the end, it serv'd in some sort to mend our people's opinion of me; and whatever the criticks might think of it, one of the patentees[ ] (who, it is true, knew no difference between _dryden_ and _d'urfey_) said, upon the success of it, that insooth! i was an ingenious young man. this sober compliment (tho' i could have no reason to be vain upon it) i thought was a fair promise to my being in favour. but to matters of more moment: now let us reconnoitre the enemy. after we had stolen some few days march upon them, the forces of _betterton_ came up with us in terrible order: in about three weeks following, the new theatre was open'd against us with a veteran company and a new train of artillery; or in plainer _english_, the old actors in _lincoln's-inn-fields_ began with a new comedy of mr. _congreve's_, call'd _love_ for _love_;[ ] which ran on with such extraordinary success that they had seldom occasion to act any other play 'till the end of the season. this valuable play had a narrow escape from falling into the hands of the patentees; for before the division of the company it had been read and accepted of at the theatre-royal: but while the articles of agreement for it were preparing, the rupture in the theatrical state was so far advanced that the author took time to pause before he sign'd them; when finding that all hopes of accommodation were impracticable, he thought it advisable to let it take its fortune with those actors for whom he had first intended the parts. mr. _congreve_ was then in such high reputation as an author, that besides his profits from this play, they offered him a whole share with them, which he accepted;[ ] in consideration of which he oblig'd himself, if his health permitted, to give them one new play every year.[ ] _dryden_, in king _charles's_ time, had the same share with the king's company, but he bound himself to give them two plays every season. this you may imagine he could not hold long, and i am apt to think he might have serv'd them better with one in a year, not so hastily written. mr. _congreve_, whatever impediment he met with, was three years before, in pursuance to his agreement, he produced the _mourning bride_;[ ] and if i mistake not, the interval had been much the same when he gave them the _way of the world_.[ ] but it came out the stronger for the time it cost him, and to their better support when they sorely wanted it: for though they went on with success for a year or two, and even when their affairs were declining stood in much higher estimation of the publick than their opponents; yet in the end both sides were great sufferers by their separation; the natural consequence of two houses, which i have already mention'd in a former chapter. the first error this new colony of actors fell into was their inconsiderately parting with _williams_ and mrs. _monfort_[ ] upon a too nice (not to say severe) punctilio; in not allowing them to be equal sharers with the rest; which before they had acted one play occasioned their return to the service of the patentees. as i have call'd this an error, i ought to give my reasons for it. though the industry of _williams_ was not equal to his capacity; for he lov'd his bottle better than his business; and though mrs. _monfort_ was only excellent in comedy, yet their merit was too great almost on any scruples to be added to the enemy; and at worst, they were certainly much more above those they would have ranked them with than they could possibly be under those they were not admitted to be equal to. of this fact there is a poetical record in the prologue to _love for love_, where the author, speaking of the then happy state of the stage, observes that if, in paradise, when two only were there, they both fell; the surprize was less, if from so numerous a body as theirs, there had been any deserters. _abate the wonder, and the fault forgive, if, in our larger family, we grieve one falling_ adam, _and one tempted_ eve.[ ] these lines alluded to the revolt of the persons above mention'd. notwithstanding the acquisition of these two actors, who were of more importance than any of those to whose assistance they came, the affairs of the patentees were still in a very creeping condition;[ ] they were now, too late, convinced of their error in having provok'd their people to this civil war of the theatre! quite changed and dismal now was the prospect before them! their houses thin, and the town crowding into a new one! actors at double sallaries, and not half the usual audiences to pay them! and all this brought upon them by those whom their full security had contemn'd, and who were now in a fair way of making their fortunes upon the ruined interest of their oppressors. here, tho' at this time my fortune depended on the success of the patentees, i cannot help in regard to truth remembring the rude and riotous havock we made of all the late dramatic honours of the theatre! all became at once the spoil of ignorance and self-conceit! _shakespear_ was defac'd and tortured in every signal character--_hamlet_ and _othello_ lost in one hour all their good sense, their dignity and fame. _brutus_ and _cassius_ became noisy blusterers, with bold unmeaning eyes, mistaken sentiments, and turgid elocution! nothing, sure, could more painfully regret[ ] a judicious spectator than to see, at our first setting out, with what rude confidence those habits which actors of real merit had left behind them were worn by giddy pretenders that so vulgarly disgraced them! not young lawyers in hir'd robes and plumes at a masquerade could be less what they would seem, or more aukwardly personate the characters they belong'd to. if, in all these acts of wanton waste, these insults upon injur'd nature, you observe i have not yet charged one of them upon myself, it is not from an imaginary vanity that i could have avoided them; but that i was rather safe, by being too low at that time to be admitted even to my chance of falling into the same eminent errors: so that as none of those great parts ever fell to my share, i could not be accountable for the execution of them: nor indeed could i get one good part of any kind 'till many months after; unless it were of that sort which no body else car'd for, or would venture to expose themselves in.[ ] the first unintended favour, therefore, of a part of any value, necessity threw upon me on the following occasion. as it has been always judg'd their natural interest, where there are two theatres, to do one another as much mischief as they can, you may imagine it could not be long before this hostile policy shew'd itself in action. it happen'd, upon our having information on a _saturday_ morning that the _tuesday_ after _hamlet_ was intended to be acted at the other house, where it had not yet been seen, our merry menaging actors, (for they were now in a manner left to govern themselves) resolv'd at any rate to steal a march upon the enemy, and take possession of the same play the day before them: accordingly, _hamlet_ was given out that night to be acted with us on _monday._ the notice of this sudden enterprize soon reach'd the other house, who in my opinion too much regarded it; for they shorten'd their first orders, and resolv'd that _hamlet_ should to _hamlet_ be opposed on the same day; whereas, had they given notice in their bills that the same play would have been acted by them the day after, the town would have been in no doubt which house they should have reserved themselves for; ours must certainly have been empty, and theirs, with more honour, have been crowded: experience, many years after, in like cases, has convinced me that this would have been the more laudable conduct. but be that as it may; when in their _monday_'s bills it was seen that _hamlet_ was up against us, our consternation was terrible, to find that so hopeful a project was frustrated. in this distress, _powel_, who was our commanding officer, and whose enterprising head wanted nothing but skill to carry him through the most desperate attempts; for, like others of his cast, he had murder'd many a hero only to get into his cloaths. this _powel_, i say, immediately called a council of war, where the question was, whether he should fairly face the enemy, or make a retreat to some other play of more probable safety? it was soon resolved that to act _hamlet_ against _hamlet_ would be certainly throwing away the play, and disgracing themselves to little or no audience; to conclude, _powel_, who was vain enough to envy _betterton_ as his rival, proposed to change plays with them, and that as they had given out the _old batchelor_, and had chang'd it for _hamlet_ against us, we should give up our _hamlet_ and turn the _old batchelor_ upon them. this motion was agreed to, _nemine contradicente_; but upon enquiry, it was found that there were not two persons among them who had ever acted in that play: but that objection, it seems, (though all the parts were to be study'd in six hours) was soon got over; _powel_ had an equivalent, _in petto_, that would ballance any deficiency on that score, which was, that he would play the _old batchelor_ himself, and mimick _betterton_ throughout the whole part. this happy thought was approv'd with delight and applause, as whatever can be suppos'd to ridicule merit generally gives joy to those that want it: accordingly the bills were chang'd, and at the bottom inserted, _the part of the_ old batchelor _to be perform'd in imitation of the original._ printed books of the play were sent for in haste, and every actor had one to pick out of it the part he had chosen: thus, while they were each of them chewing the morsel they had most mind to, some one happening to cast his eye over the _dramatis personæ_, found that the main matter was still forgot, that no body had yet been thought of for the part of alderman _fondlewife_. here we were all aground agen! nor was it to be conceiv'd who could make the least tolerable shift with it. this character had been so admirably acted by _dogget_, that though it is only seen in the fourth act, it may be no dispraise to the play to say it probably ow'd the greatest part of its success to his performance. but, as the case was now desperate, any resource was better than none. somebody must swallow the bitter pill, or the play must die. at last it was recollected that i had been heard to say in my wild way of talking, what a vast mind i had to play _nykin_, by which name the character was more frequently call'd.[ ] notwithstanding they were thus distress'd about the disposal of this part, most of them shook their heads at my being mention'd for it; yet _powel_, who was resolv'd at all hazards to fall upon _betterton_, and having no concern for what might become of any one that serv'd his ends or purpose, order'd me to be sent for; and, as he naturally lov'd to set other people wrong, honestly said before i came, _if the fool has a mind to blow himself up at once, let us ev'n give him a clear stage for it_. accordingly the part was put into my hands between eleven and twelve that morning, which i durst not refuse, because others were as much straitned in time for study as myself. but i had this casual advantage of most of them; that having so constantly observ'd _dogget_'s performance, i wanted but little trouble to make me perfect in the words; so that when it came to my turn to rehearse, while others read their parts from their books, i had put mine in my pocket, and went thro' the first scene without it; and though i was more abash'd to rehearse so remarkable a part before the actors (which is natural to most young people) than to act before an audience, yet some of the better-natur'd encouraged me so far as to say they did not think i should make an ill figure in it: to conclude, the curiosity to see _betterton_ mimick'd drew us a pretty good audience, and _powel_ (as far as applause is a proof of it) was allow'd to have burlesqu'd him very well.[ ] as i have question'd the certain value of applause, i hope i may venture with less vanity to say how particular a share i had of it in the same play. at my first appearance one might have imagin'd by the various murmurs of the audience, that they were in doubt whether _dogget_ himself were not return'd, or that they could not conceive what strange face it could be that so nearly resembled him; for i had laid the tint of forty years more than my real age upon my features, and, to the most minute placing of an hair, was dressed exactly like him: when i spoke, the surprize was still greater, as if i had not only borrow'd his cloaths, but his voice too. but tho' that was the least difficult part of him to be imitated, they seem'd to allow i had so much of him in every other requisite, that my applause was, perhaps, more than proportionable: for, whether i had done so much where so little was expected, or that the generosity of my hearers were more than usually zealous upon so unexpected an occasion, or from what other motive such favour might be pour'd upon me, i cannot say; but in plain and honest truth, upon my going off from the first scene, a much better actor might have been proud of the applause that followed me; after one loud _plaudit_ was ended and sunk into a general whisper that seem'd still to continue their private approbation, it reviv'd to a second, and again to a third, still louder than the former. if to all this i add, that _dogget_ himself was in the pit at the same time, it would be too rank affectation if i should not confess that to see him there a witness of my reception, was to me as consummate a triumph as the heart of vanity could be indulg'd with. but whatever vanity i might set upon my self from this unexpected success, i found that was no rule to other people's judgment of me. there were few or no parts of the same kind to be had; nor could they conceive, from what i had done in this, what other sort of characters i could be fit for. if i sollicited for any thing of a different nature, i was answered, _that was not in my way_. and what _was_ in my way it seems was not as yet resolv'd upon. and though i reply'd, _that i thought any thing naturally written ought to be in every one's way that pretended to be an actor_; this was looked upon as a vain, impracticable conceit of my own. yet it is a conceit that, in forty years farther experience, i have not yet given up; i still think that a painter who can draw but one sort of object, or an actor that shines but in one light, can neither of them boast of that ample genius which is necessary to form a thorough master of his art: for tho' genius may have a particular inclination, yet a good history-painter, or a good actor, will, without being at a loss, give you upon demand a proper likeness of whatever nature produces. if he cannot do this, he is only an actor as the shoemaker was allow'd a limited judge of _apelles_'s painting, but _not beyond his last_. now, tho' to do any one thing well may have more merit than we often meet with, and may be enough to procure a man the name of a good actor from the publick; yet, in my opinion, it is but still the name without the substance. if his talent is in such narrow bounds that he dares not step out of them to look upon the singularities of mankind, and cannot catch them in whatever form they present themselves; if he is not master of the _quicquid agunt homines_,[ ] &c. in any shape human nature is fit to be seen in; if he cannot change himself into several distinct persons, so as to vary his whole tone of voice, his motion, his look and gesture, whether in high or lower life, and, at the same time, keep close to those variations without leaving the character they singly belong to; if his best skill falls short of this capacity, what pretence have we to call him a complete master of his art? and tho' i do not insist that he ought always to shew himself in these various lights, yet, before we compliment him with that title, he ought at least, by some few proofs, to let us see that he has them all in his power. if i am ask'd, who, ever, arriv'd at this imaginary excellence, i confess the instances are very few; but i will venture to name _monfort_ as one of them, whose theatrical character i have given in my last chapter: for in his youth he had acted low humour with great success, even down to _tallboy_ in the _jovial crew_; and when he was in great esteem as a tragedian, he was, in comedy, the most complete gentleman that i ever saw upon the stage. let me add, too, that _betterton_, in his declining age, was as eminent in sir _john falstaff_, as in the vigour of it, in his _othello_. [illustration: william bullock.] while i thus measure the value of an actor by the variety of shapes he is able to throw himself into, you may naturally suspect that i am all this while leading my own theatrical character into your favour: why really, to speak as an honest man, i cannot wholly deny it: but in this i shall endeavour to be no farther partial to myself than known facts will make me; from the good or bad evidence of which your better judgment will condemn or acquit me. and to shew you that i will conceal no truth that is against me, i frankly own that had i been always left to my own choice of characters, i am doubtful whether i might ever have deserv'd an equal share of that estimation which the publick seem'd to have held me in: nor am i sure that it was not vanity in me often to have suspected that i was kept out of the parts i had most mind to by the jealousy or prejudice of my cotemporaries; some instances of which i could give you, were they not too slight to be remember'd: in the mean time, be pleas'd to observe how slowly, in my younger days, my good-fortune came forward. my early success in the _old batchelor_, of which i have given so full an account, having open'd no farther way to my advancement, was enough, perhaps, to have made a young fellow of more modesty despair; but being of a temper not easily dishearten'd, i resolv'd to leave nothing unattempted that might shew me in some new rank of distinction. having then no other resource, i was at last reduc'd to write a character for myself; but as that was not finish'd till about a year after, i could not, in the interim, procure any one part that gave me the least inclination to act it; and consequently such as i got i perform'd with a proportionable negligence. but this misfortune, if it were one, you are not to wonder at; for the same fate attended me, more or less, to the last days of my remaining on the stage. what defect in me this may have been owing to, i have not yet had sense enough to find out; but i soon found out as good a thing, which was, never to be mortify'd at it: though i am afraid this seeming philosophy was rather owing to my inclination to pleasure than business. but to my point. the next year i produc'd the comedy of _love's last shift_; yet the difficulty of getting it to the stage was not easily surmounted; for, at that time, as little was expected from me, as an author, as had been from my pretensions to be an actor. however, mr. _southern_, the author of _oroonoko_, having had the patience to hear me read it to him, happened to like it so well that he immediately recommended it to the patentees, and it was accordingly acted in _january _.[ ] in this play i gave myself the part of sir _novelty_, which was thought a good portrait of the foppery then in fashion. here, too, mr. _southern_, though he had approv'd my play, came into the common diffidence of me as an actor: for, when on the first day of it i was standing, myself, to prompt the _prologue_, he took me by the hand and said, _young man! i pronounce thy play a good one; i will answer for its success,[ ] if thou dost not spoil it by thy own action_. though this might be a fair _salvo_ for his favourable judgment of the play, yet, if it were his real opinion of me as an actor, i had the good fortune to deceive him: i succeeded so well in both, that people seem'd at a loss which they should give the preference to.[ ] but (now let me shew a little more vanity, and my apology for it shall come after) the compliment which my lord _dorset_ (then lord-chamberlain) made me upon it is, i own, what i had rather not suppress, _viz. that it was the best first play that any author in his memory had produc'd; and that for a young fellow to shew himself such an actor and such a writer in one day, was something extraordinary._ but as this noble lord has been celebrated for his good-nature, i am contented that as much of this compliment should be suppos'd to exceed my deserts as may be imagin'd to have been heighten'd by his generous inclination to encourage a young beginner. if this excuse cannot soften the vanity of telling a truth so much in my own favour, i must lie at the mercy of my reader. but there was a still higher compliment pass'd upon me which i may publish without vanity, because it was not a design'd one, and apparently came from my enemies, _viz._ that, to their certain knowledge, _it was not my own_: this report is taken notice of in my dedication to the play.[ ] if they spoke truth, if they knew what other person it really belong'd to, i will at least allow them true to their trust; for above forty years have since past, and they have not yet reveal'd the secret.[ ] the new light in which the character of sir _novelty_ had shewn me, one might have thought were enough to have dissipated the doubts of what i might now be possibly good for. but to whatever chance my ill-fortune was due; whether i had still but little merit, or that the menagers, if i had any, were not competent judges of it; or whether i was not generally elbow'd by other actors (which i am most inclin'd to think the true cause) when any fresh parts were to be dispos'd of, not one part of any consequence was i preferr'd to 'till the year following: then, indeed, from _sir john vanbrugh_'s favourable opinion of me, i began, with others, to have a better of myself: for he not only did me honour as an author by writing his _relapse_ as a sequel or second part to _love's last shift_, but as an actor too, by preferring me to the chief character in his own play, (which from sir _novelty_) he had ennobled by the style of baron of _foppington_. this play (the _relapse_) from its new and easy turn of wit, had great success, and gave me, as a comedian, a second flight of reputation along with it.[ ] as the matter i write must be very flat or impertinent to those who have no taste or concern for the stage, and may to those who delight in it, too, be equally tedious when i talk of no body but myself, i shall endeavour to relieve your patience by a word or two more of this gentleman, so far as he lent his pen to the support of the theatre. though the _relapse_ was the first play this agreeable author produc'd, yet it was not, it seems, the first he had written; for he had at that time by him (more than) all the scenes that were acted of the _provok'd wife_; but being then doubtful whether he should ever trust them to the stage, he thought no more of it: but after the success of the _relapse_ he was more strongly importun'd than able to refuse it to the publick. why the last-written play was first acted, and for what reason they were given to different stages, what follows will explain. in his first step into publick life, when he was but an ensign and had a heart above his income, he happen'd somewhere at his winter-quarters, upon a very slender acquaintance with sir _thomas skipwith_, to receive a particular obligation from him which he had not forgot at the time i am speaking of: when sir _thomas's_ interest in the theatrical patent (for he had a large share in it, though he little concern'd himself in the conduct of it) was rising but very slowly, he thought that to give it a lift by a new comedy, if it succeeded, might be the handsomest return he could make to those his former favours; and having observ'd that in _love's last shift_ most of the actors had acquitted themselves beyond what was expected of them, he took a sudden hint from what he lik'd in that play, and in less than three months, in the beginning of _april_ following, brought us the _relapse_ finish'd; but the season being then too far advanc'd, it was not acted 'till the succeeding winter. upon the success of the _relapse_ the late lord _hallifax_, who was a great favourer of _betterton_'s company, having formerly, by way of family-amusement, heard the _provok'd wife_ read to him in its looser sheets, engag'd sir _john vanbrugh_ to revise it and gave it to the theatre in _lincolns-inn fields_. this was a request not to be refus'd to so eminent a patron of the muses as the lord _hallifax_, who was equally a friend and admirer of sir _john_ himself.[ ] nor was sir _thomas skipwith_ in the least disobliged by so reasonable a compliance: after which, sir _john_ was agen at liberty to repeat his civilities to his friend sir _thomas_, and about the same time, or not long after, gave us the comedy of _Ã�sop_, for his inclination always led him to serve sir _thomas_. besides, our company about this time began to be look'd upon in another light; the late contempt we had lain under was now wearing off, and from the success of two or three new plays, our actors, by being originals in a few good parts where they had not the disadvantage of comparison against them, sometimes found new favour in those old plays where others had exceeded them.[ ] of this good-fortune perhaps i had more than my share from the two very different chief characters i had succeeded in; for i was equally approv'd in _Ã�sop_ as the _lord foppington_, allowing the difference to be no less than as wisdom in a person deform'd may be less entertaining to the general taste than folly and foppery finely drest: for the character that delivers precepts of wisdom is, in some sort, severe upon the auditor by shewing him one wiser than himself. but when folly is his object he applauds himself for being wiser than the coxcomb he laughs at: and who is not more pleas'd with an occasion to commend than accuse himself? though to write much in a little time is no excuse for writing ill; yet sir _john vanbrugh_'s pen is not to be a little admir'd for its spirit, ease, and readiness in producing plays so fast upon the neck of one another; for, notwithstanding this quick dispatch, there is a clear and lively simplicity in his wit that neither wants the ornament of learning nor has the least smell of the lamp in it. as the face of a fine woman, with only her locks loose about her, may be then in its greatest beauty; such were his productions, only adorn'd by nature. there is something so catching to the ear, so easy to the memory, in all he writ, that it has been observ'd by all the actors of my time, that the style of no author whatsoever gave their memory less trouble than that of sir _john vanbrugh_; which i myself, who have been charg'd with several of his strongest characters, can confirm by a pleasing experience. and indeed his wit and humour was so little laboured, that his most entertaining scenes seem'd to be no more than his common conversation committed to paper. here i confess my judgment at a loss, whether in this i give him more or less than his due praise? for may it not be more laudable to raise an estate (whether in wealth or fame) by pains and honest industry than to be born to it? yet if his scenes really were, as to me they always seem'd, delightful, are they not, thus expeditiously written, the more surprising? let the wit and merit of them then be weigh'd by wiser criticks than i pretend to be: but no wonder, while his conceptions were so full of life and humour, his muse should be sometimes too warm to wait the slow pace of judgment, or to endure the drudgery of forming a regular fable to them: yet we see the _relapse_, however imperfect in the conduct, by the mere force of its agreeable wit, ran away with the hearts of its hearers; while _love's last shift_, which (as mr. _congreve_ justly said of it) had only in it a great many things that were _like_ wit, that in reality were _not_ wit: and what is still less pardonable (as i say of it myself) has a great deal of puerility and frothy stage-language in it, yet by the mere moral delight receiv'd from its fable, it has been, with the other, in a continued and equal possession of the stage for more than forty years.[ ] as i have already promis'd you to refer your judgment of me as an actor rather to known facts than my own opinion (which i could not be sure would keep clear of self-partiality) i must a little farther risque my being tedious to be as good as my word. i have elsewhere allow'd that my want of a strong and full voice soon cut short my hopes of making any valuable figure in tragedy; and i have been many years since convinced, that whatever opinion i might have of my own judgment or capacity to amend the palpable errors that i saw our tragedians most in favour commit; yet the auditors who would have been sensible of any such amendments (could i have made them) were so very few, that my best endeavour would have been but an unavailing labour, or, what is yet worse, might have appeared both to our actors and to many auditors the vain mistake of my own self-conceit: for so strong, so very near indispensible, is that one article of voice in the forming a good tragedian, that an actor may want any other qualification whatsoever, and yet have a better chance for applause than he will ever have, with all the skill in the world, if his voice is not equal to it. mistake me not; i say, for _applause_ only--but applause does not always stay for, nor always follow intrinsick merit; applause will frequently open, like a young hound, upon a wrong scent; and the majority of auditors, you know, are generally compos'd of babblers that are profuse of their voices before there is any thing on foot that calls for them. not but, i grant, to lead or mislead the many will always stand in some rank of a necessary merit; yet when i say a good tragedian, i mean one in opinion of whose _real_ merit the best judges would agree. having so far given up my pretensions to the buskin, i ought now to account for my having been, notwithstanding, so often seen in some particular characters in tragedy, as _iago_,[ ] _wolsey_, _syphax_, _richard the third_, &c. if in any of this kind i have succeeded, perhaps it has been a merit dearly purchas'd; for, from the delight i seem'd to take in my performing them, half my auditors have been persuaded that a great share of the wickedness of them must have been in my own nature: if this is true, as true i fear (i had almost said hope) it is, i look upon it rather as a praise than censure of my performance. aversion there is an involuntary commendation, where we are only hated for being like the thing we _ought_ to be like; a sort of praise, however, which few actors besides my self could endure: had it been equal to the usual praise given to virtue, my cotemporaries would have thought themselves injur'd if i had pretended to any share of it: so that you see it has been as much the dislike others had to them, as choice that has thrown me sometimes into these characters. but it may be farther observ'd, that in the characters i have nam'd, where there is so much close meditated mischief, deceit, pride, insolence, or cruelty, they cannot have the least cast or profer of the amiable in them; consequently, there can be no great demand for that harmonious sound, or pleasing round melody of voice, which in the softer sentiments of love, the wailings of distressful virtue, or in the throws and swellings of honour and ambition, may be needful to recommend them to our pity or admiration: so that, again, my want of that requisite voice might less disqualify me for the vicious than the virtuous character. this too may have been a more favourable reason for my having been chosen for them--a yet farther consideration that inclin'd me to them was that they are generally better written, thicker sown with sensible reflections, and come by so much nearer to common life and nature than characters of admiration, as vice is more the practice of mankind than virtue: nor could i sometimes help smiling at those dainty actors that were too squeamish to swallow them! as if they were one jot the better men for acting a good man well, or another man the worse for doing equal justice to a bad one! 'tis not, sure, _what_ we act, but _how_ we act what is allotted us, that speaks our intrinsick value! as in real life, the wise man or the fool, be he prince or peasant, will in either state be equally the fool or the wise man--but alas! in personated life this is no rule to the vulgar! they are apt to think all before them real, and rate the actor according to his borrow'd vice or virtue. if then i had always too careless a concern for false or vulgar applause, i ought not to complain if i have had less of it than others of my time, or not less of it than i desired: yet i will venture to say, that from the common weak appetite of false applause, many actors have run into more errors and absurdities, than their greatest ignorance could otherwise have committed:[ ] if this charge is true, it will lie chiefly upon the better judgment of the spectator to reform it. but not to make too great a merit of my avoiding this common road to applause, perhaps i was vain enough to think i had more ways than one to come at it. that, in the variety of characters i acted, the chances to win it were the stronger on my side--that, if the multitude were not in a roar to see me in _cardinal wolsey_, i could be sure of them in alderman _fondlewife_. if they hated me in _iago_, in sir _fopling_ they took me for a fine gentleman; if they were silent at _syphax_, no _italian_ eunuch was more applauded than when i sung in sir _courtly_. if the morals of _Ã�sop_ were too grave for them, justice _shallow_ was as simple and as merry an old rake as the wisest of our young ones could wish me.[ ] and though the terror and detestation raised by king _richard_ might be too severe a delight for them, yet the more gentle and modern vanities of a poet bays, or the well-bred vices of a lord _foppington_, were not at all more than their merry hearts or nicer morals could bear. these few instances out of fifty more i could give you, may serve to explain what sort of merit i at most pretended to; which was, that i supplied with variety whatever i might want of that particular skill wherein others went before me. how this variety was executed (for by that only is its value to be rated) you who have so often been my spectator are the proper judge: if you pronounce my performance to have been defective, i am condemn'd by my own evidence; if you acquit me, these out-lines may serve for a sketch of my theatrical character. chapter vii. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the state of the stage continued. the occasion of wilks's commencing actor. his success. facts relating to his theatrical talent. actors more or less esteem'd from their private characters._ the _lincoln's-inn-fields_ company were now, in ,[ ] a common-wealth, like that of _holland_, divided from the tyranny of _spain_: but the similitude goes very little farther; short was the duration of the theatrical power! for tho' success pour'd in so fast upon them at their first opening that every thing seem'd to support it self, yet experience in a year or two shew'd them that they had never been worse govern'd than when they govern'd themselves! many of them began to make their particular interest more their point than that of the general: and tho' some deference might be had to the measures and advice of _betterton_, several of them wanted to govern in their turn, and were often out of humour that their opinion was not equally regarded--but have we not seen the same infirmity in senates? the tragedians seem'd to think their rank as much above the comedians as in the characters they severally acted; when the first were in their finery, the latter were impatient at the expence, and look'd upon it as rather laid out upon the real than the fictitious person of the actor; nay, i have known in our own company this ridiculous sort of regret carried so far, that the tragedian has thought himself injured when the _comedian_ pretended to wear a fine coat! i remember _powel_, upon surveying my first dress in the _relapse_, was out of all temper, and reproach'd our master in very rude terms that he had not so good a suit to play _cæsar borgia_[ ] in! tho' he knew, at the same time, my lord _foppington_ fill'd the house, when his bouncing _borgia_ would do little more than pay fiddles and candles to it: and though a character of vanity might be supposed more expensive in dress than possibly one of ambition, yet the high heart of this heroical actor could not bear that a comedian should ever pretend to be as well dress'd as himself. thus again, on the contrary, when _betterton_ proposed to set off a tragedy, the comedians were sure to murmur at the charge of it: and the late reputation which _dogget_ had acquired from acting his _ben_ in _love_ for _love_, made him a more declared male-content on such occasions; he over-valued comedy for its being nearer to nature than tragedy, which is allow'd to say many fine things that nature never spoke in the same words; and supposing his opinion were just, yet he should have consider'd that the publick had a taste as well as himself, which in policy he ought to have complied with. _dogget_, however, could not with patience look upon the costly trains and plumes of tragedy, in which knowing himself to be useless, he thought were all a vain extravagance: and when he found his singularity could no longer oppose that expence, he so obstinately adhered to his own opinion, that he left the society of his old friends, and came over to us at the _theatre-royal_: and yet this actor always set up for a theatrical patriot. this happened in the winter following the first division of the (only) company.[ ] he came time enough to the _theatre-royal_ to act the part of _lory_ in the _relapse_, an arch valet, quite after the _french_ cast, pert and familiar. but it suited so ill with _dogget_'s dry and closely-natural manner of acting, that upon the second day he desired it might be disposed of to another; which the author complying with, gave it to _penkethman_, who, tho' in other lights much his inferior, yet this part he seem'd better to become. _dogget_ was so immovable in his opinion of whatever he thought was right or wrong, that he could never be easy under any kind of theatrical government, and was generally so warm in pursuit of his interest that he often out-ran it; i remember him three times, for some years, unemploy'd in any theatre, from his not being able to bear, in common with others, the disagreeable accidents that in such societies are unavoidable.[ ] but whatever pretences he had form'd for this first deserting from _lincoln's-inn-fields_, i always thought his best reason for it was, that he look'd upon it as a sinking ship; not only from the melancholy abatement of their profits, but likewise from the neglect and disorder in their government: he plainly saw that their extraordinary success at first had made them too confident of its duration, and from thence had slacken'd their industry--by which he observ'd, at the same time, the old house, where there was scarce any other merit than industry, began to flourish. and indeed they seem'd not enough to consider that the appetite of the publick, like that of a fine gentleman, could only be kept warm by variety; that let their merit be never so high, yet the taste of a town was not always constant, nor infallible: that it was dangerous to hold their rivals in too much contempt;[ ] for they found that a young industrious company were soon a match for the best actors when too securely negligent: and negligent they certainly were, and fondly fancied that had each of their different schemes been follow'd, their audiences would not so suddenly have fallen off.[ ] but alas! the vanity of applauded actors, when they are not crowded to as they may have been, makes them naturally impute the change to any cause rather than the true one, satiety: they are mighty loath to think a town, once so fond of them, could ever be tired; and yet, at one time or other, more or less thin houses have been the certain fate of the most prosperous actors ever since i remember the stage! but against this evil the provident patentees had found out a relief which the new house were not yet masters of, _viz._ never to pay their people when the money did not come in; nor then neither, but in such proportions as suited their conveniency. i my self was one of the many who for six acting weeks together never received one day's pay; and for some years after seldom had above half our nominal sallaries: but to the best of my memory, the finances of the other house held it not above one season more, before they were reduced to the same expedient of making the like scanty payments.[ ] such was the distress and fortune of both these companies since their division from the _theatre-royal_; either working at half wages, or by alternate successes intercepting the bread from one another's mouths;[ ] irreconcilable enemies, yet without hope of relief from a victory on either side; sometimes both parties reduced, and yet each supporting their spirits by seeing the other under the same calamity. during this state of the stage it was that the lowest expedient was made use of to ingratiate our company in the publick favour: our master, who had sometime practised the law,[ ] and therefore loved a storm better than fair weather (for it was his own conduct chiefly that had brought the patent into these dangers) took nothing so much to heart as that partiality wherewith he imagined the people of quality had preferr'd the actors of the other house to those of his own: to ballance this misfortune, he was resolv'd, at least, to be well with their domesticks, and therefore cunningly open'd the upper gallery to them _gratis_: for before this time no footman was ever admitted, or had presum'd to come into it, till after the fourth act was ended: this additional privilege (the greatest plague that ever play-house had to complain of) he conceived would not only incline them to give us a good word in the respective families they belong'd to, but would naturally incite them to come all hands aloft in the crack of our applauses: and indeed it so far succeeded, that it often thunder'd from the full gallery above, while our thin pit and boxes below were in the utmost serenity. this riotous privilege, so craftily given, and which from custom was at last ripen'd into right, became the most disgraceful nusance that ever depreciated the theatre.[ ] how often have the most polite audiences, in the most affecting scenes of the best plays, been disturb'd and insulted by the noise and clamour of these savage spectators? from the same narrow way of thinking, too, were so many ordinary people and unlick'd cubs of condition admitted behind our scenes for money, and sometimes without it: the plagues and inconveniences of which custom we found so intolerable, when we afterwards had the stage in our hands, that at the hazard of our lives we were forced to get rid of them; and our only expedient was by refusing money from all persons without distinction at the stage-door; by this means we preserved to ourselves the right and liberty of chusing our own company there: and by a strict observance of this order we brought what had been before debas'd into all the licenses of a lobby into the decencies of a drawing-room.[ ] about the distressful time i was speaking of, in the year ,[ ] _wilks_, who now had been five years in great esteem on the _dublin_ theatre, return'd to that of _drury-lane_; in which last he had first set out, and had continued to act some small parts for one winter only. the considerable figure which he so lately made upon the stage in _london_, makes me imagine that a particular account of his first commencing actor may not be unacceptable to the curious; i shall, therefore, give it them as i had it from his own mouth. in king _james_'s reign he had been some time employ'd in the secretary's office in _ireland_ (his native country) and remain'd in it till after the battle of the _boyn_, which completed the revolution. upon that happy and unexpected deliverance, the people of _dublin_, among the various expressions of their joy, had a mind to have a play; but the actors being dispersed during the war, some private persons agreed in the best manner they were able to give one to the publick _gratis_ at the _theatre_. the play was _othello_, in which _wilks_ acted the _moor_; and the applause he received in it warm'd him to so strong an inclination for the stage, that he immediately prefer'd it to all his other views in life: for he quitted his post, and with the first fair occasion came over to try his fortune in the (then only) company of actors in _london_. the person who supply'd his post in _dublin_, he told me, raised to himself from thence a fortune of fifty thousand pounds. here you have a much stronger instance of an extravagant passion for the stage than that which i have elsewhere shewn in my self; i only quitted my _hopes_ of being preferr'd to the like post for it; but _wilks_ quitted his actual _possession_ for the imaginary happiness which the life of an actor presented to him. and, though possibly we might both have better'd our fortunes in a more honourable station, yet whether better fortunes might have equally gratify'd our vanity (the universal passion of mankind) may admit of a question. upon his being formerly received into the _theatre-royal_ (which was in the winter after i had been initiated) his station there was much upon the same class with my own; our parts were generally of an equal insignificancy, not of consequence enough to give either a preference: but _wilks_ being more impatient of his low condition than i was, (and, indeed, the company was then so well stock'd with good actors that there was very little hope of getting forward) laid hold of a more expeditious way for his advancement, and returned agen to _dublin_ with mr. _ashbury_, the patentee of that theatre, to act in his new company there: there went with him at the same time mrs. _butler_, whose character i have already given, and _estcourt_, who had not appeared on any stage, and was yet only known as an excellent mimick: _wilks_ having no competitor in _dublin_, was immediately preferr'd to whatever parts his inclination led him, and his early reputation on that stage as soon raised in him an ambition to shew himself on a better. and i have heard him say (in raillery of the vanity which young actors are liable to) that when the news of _monfort_'s death came to _ireland_, he from that time thought his fortune was made, and took a resolution to return a second time to _england_ with the first opportunity; but as his engagements to the stage where he was were too strong to be suddenly broke from, he return'd not to the _theatre-royal_ 'till the year .[ ] upon his first arrival, _powel_, who was now in possession of all the chief parts of _monfort_, and the only actor that stood in _wilks_'s way, in seeming civility offer'd him his choice of whatever he thought fit to make his first appearance in; though, in reality, the favour was intended to hurt him. but _wilks_ rightly judg'd it more modest to accept only of a part of _powel_'s, and which _monfort_ had never acted, that of _palamede_ in _dryden's marriage alamode_. here, too, he had the advantage of having the ball play'd into his hand by the inimitable mrs. _monfort_, who was then his _melantha_ in the same play: whatever fame _wilks_ had brought with him from _ireland_, he as yet appear'd but a very raw actor to what he was afterwards allow'd to be: his faults, however, i shall rather leave to the judgments of those who then may remember him, than to take upon me the disagreeable office of being particular upon them, farther than by saying, that in this part of _palamede_ he was short of _powel_, and miss'd a good deal of the loose humour of the character, which the other more happily hit.[ ] but however he was young, erect, of a pleasing aspect, and, in the whole, gave the town and the stage sufficient hopes of him. i ought to make some allowances, too, for the restraint he must naturally have been under from his first appearance upon a new stage. but from that he soon recovered, and grew daily more in favour, not only of the town, but likewise of the patentee, whom _powel_, before _wilks_'s arrival, had treated in almost what manner he pleas'd. upon this visible success of _wilks_, the pretended contempt which _powel_ had held him in began to sour into an open jealousy; he now plainly saw he was a formidable rival, and (which more hurt him) saw, too, that other people saw it; and therefore found it high time to oppose and be troublesome to him. but _wilks_ happening to be as jealous of his fame as the other, you may imagine such clashing candidates could not be long without a rupture: in short, a challenge, i very well remember, came from _powel_, when he was hot-headed; but the next morning he was cool enough to let it end in favour of _wilks_. yet however the magnanimity on either part might subside, the animosity was as deep in the heart as ever, tho' it was not afterwards so openly avow'd: for when _powel_ found that intimidating would not carry his point; but that _wilks_, when provok'd, would really give battle,[ ] he (_powel_) grew so out of humour that he cock'd his hat, and in his passion walk'd off to the service of the company in _lincoln's-inn fields_. but there finding more competitors, and that he made a worse figure among them than in the company he came from, he stay'd but one winter with them[ ] before he return'd to his old quarters in _drury-lane_; where, after these unsuccessful pushes of his ambition, he at last became a martyr to negligence, and quietly submitted to the advantages and superiority which (during his late desertion) _wilks_ had more easily got over him. [illustration: william penkethman.] however trifling these theatrical anecdotes may seem to a sensible reader, yet, as the different conduct of these rival actors may be of use to others of the same profession, and from thence may contribute to the pleasure of the publick, let that be my excuse for pursuing them. i must therefore let it be known that, though in voice and ear nature had been more kind to _powel_, yet he so often lost the value of them by an unheedful confidence, that the constant wakeful care and decency of _wilks_ left the other far behind in the publick esteem and approbation. nor was his memory less tenacious than that of _wilks_; but _powel_ put too much trust in it, and idly deferr'd the studying of his parts, as school-boys do their exercise, to the last day, which commonly brings them out proportionably defective. but _wilks_ never lost an hour of precious time, and was, in all his parts, perfect to such an exactitude, that i question if in forty years he ever five times chang'd or misplac'd an article in any one of them. to be master of this uncommon diligence is adding to the gift of nature all that is in an actor's power; and this duty of studying perfect whatever actor is remiss in, he will proportionably find that nature may have been kind to him in vain, for though _powel_ had an assurance that cover'd this neglect much better than a man of more modesty might have done, yet, with all his intrepidity, very often the diffidence and concern for what he was to _say_ made him lose the look of what he was to _be_: while, therefore, _powel_ presided, his idle example made this fault so common to others, that i cannot but confess, in the general infection, i had my share of it; nor was my too critical excuse for it a good one, _viz._ that scarce one part in five that fell to my lot was worth the labour. but to shew respect to an audience is worth the best actor's labour, and, his business consider'd, he must be a very impudent one that comes before them with a conscious negligence of what he is about.[ ] but _wilks_ was never known to make any of these venial distinctions, nor, however barren his part might be, could bear even the self-reproach of favouring his memory: and i have been astonished to see him swallow a volume of froth and insipidity in a new play that we were sure could not live above three days, tho' favour'd and recommended to the stage by some good person of quality. upon such occasions, in compassion to his fruitless toil and labour, i have sometimes cry'd out with _cato----painful præeminence!_ so insupportable, in my sense, was the task, when the bare praise of not having been negligent was sure to be the only reward of it. but so indefatigable was the diligence of _wilks_, that he seem'd to love it, as a good man does virtue, for its own sake; of which the following instance will give you an extraordinary proof. in some new comedy he happen'd to complain of a crabbed speech in his part, which, he said, gave him more trouble to study than all the rest of it had done; upon which he apply'd to the author either to soften or shorten it. the author, that he might make the matter quite easy to him, fairly cut it all out. but when he got home from the rehearsal, _wilks_ thought it such an indignity to his memory that any thing should be thought too hard for it, that he actually made himself perfect in that speech, though he knew it was never to be made use of. from this singular act of supererogation you may judge how indefatigable the labour of his memory must have been when his profit and honour were more concern'd to make use of it.[ ] but besides this indispensable quality of diligence, _wilks_ had the advantage of a sober character in private life, which _powel_, not having the least regard to, labour'd under the unhappy disfavour, not to say contempt, of the publick, to whom his licentious courses were no secret: even when he did well that natural prejudice pursu'd him; neither the heroe nor the gentleman, the young _ammon_[ ] nor the _dorimant_,[ ] could conceal from the conscious spectator the true _george powel_. and this sort of disesteem or favour every actor will feel, and, more or less, have his share of, as he _has_, or has _not_, a due regard to his private life and reputation. nay, even false reports shall affect him, and become the cause, or pretence at least, of undervaluing or treating him injuriously. let me give a known instance of it, and at the same time a justification of myself from an imputation that was laid upon me not many years before i quitted the theatre, of which you will see the consequence. after the vast success of that new species of dramatick poetry, the _beggars opera_,[ ] the year following i was so stupid as to attempt something of the same kind, upon a quite different foundation, that of recommending virtue and innocence; which i ignorantly thought might not have a less pretence to favour than setting greatness and authority in a contemptible, and the most vulgar vice and wickedness, in an amiable light. but behold how fondly i was mistaken! _love in a riddle_[ ] (for so my new-fangled performance was called) was as vilely damn'd and hooted at as so vain a presumption in the idle cause of virtue could deserve. yet this is not what i complain of; i will allow my poetry to be as much below the other as taste or criticism can sink it: i will grant likewise that the applauded author of the _beggars opera_ (whom i knew to be an honest good-natur'd man, and who, when he had descended to write more like one, in the cause of virtue, had been as unfortunate as others of that class;) i will grant, i say, that in his _beggars opera_ he had more skilfully gratify'd the publick taste than all the brightest authors that ever writ before him; and i have sometimes thought, from the modesty of his motto, _nos hæc novimus esse nihil_,[ ] that he gave them that performance as a satyr upon the depravity of their judgment (as _ben. johnson_ of old was said to give his _bartholomew-fair_ in ridicule of the vulgar taste which had disliked his _sejanus_[ ]) and that, by artfully seducing them to be the champions of the immoralities he himself detested, he should be amply reveng'd on their former severity and ignorance. this were indeed a triumph! which even the author of _cato_ might have envy'd, _cato!_ 'tis true, succeeded, but reach'd not, by full forty days, the progress and applauses of the _beggars opera_. will it, however, admit of a question, which of the two compositions a good writer would rather wish to have been the author of? yet, on the other side, must we not allow that to have taken a whole nation, high and low, into a general applause, has shown a power in poetry which, though often attempted in the same kind, none but this one author could ever yet arrive at? by what rule, then, are we to judge of our true national taste? but to keep a little closer to my point, the same author the next year had, according to the laws of the land, transported his heroe to the _west-indies_ in a second part to the _beggars opera_;[ ] but so it happen'd, to the surprize of the publick, this second part was forbid to come upon the stage! various were the speculations upon this act of power: some thought that the author, others that the town, was hardly dealt with; a third sort, who perhaps had envy'd him the success of his first part, affirm'd, when it was printed, that whatever the intention might be, the fact was in his favour, that he had been a greater gainer by subscriptions to his copy than he could have been by a bare theatrical presentation. whether any part of these opinions were true i am not concerned to determine or consider. but how they affected me i am going to tell you. soon after this prohibition,[ ] my performance was to come upon the stage, at a time when many people were out of humour at the late disappointment, and seem'd willing to lay hold of any pretence of making a reprizal. great umbrage was taken that i was permitted to have the whole town to my self, by this absolute forbiddance of what they had more mind to have been entertain'd with. and, some few days before my bawble was acted, i was inform'd that a strong party would be made against it: this report i slighted, as not conceiving why it should be true; and when i was afterwards told what was the pretended provocation of this party, i slighted it still more, as having less reason to suppose any persons could believe me capable (had i had the power) of giving such a provocation. the report, it seems, that had run against me was this: that, to make way for the success of my own play, i had privately found means, or made interest, that the second part of the _beggars opera_ might be suppressed. what an involuntary compliment did the reporters of this falshood make me? to suppose me of consideration enough to influence a great officer of state to gratify the spleen or envy of a comedian so far as to rob the publick of an innocent diversion (if it were such) that none but that cunning comedian might be suffered to give it them.[ ] this is so very gross a supposition that it needs only its own senseless face to confound it; let that alone, then, be my defence against it. but against blind malice and staring inhumanity whatever is upon the stage has no defence! there they knew i stood helpless and expos'd to whatever they might please to load or asperse me with. i had not considered, poor devil! that from the security of a full pit dunces might be criticks, cowards valiant, and 'prentices gentlemen! whether any such were concern'd in the murder of my play i am not certain, for i never endeavour'd to discover any one of its assassins; i cannot afford them a milder name, from their unmanly manner of destroying it. had it been heard, they might have left me nothing to say to them: 'tis true it faintly held up its wounded head a second day, and would have spoke for mercy, but was not suffer'd. not even the presence of a royal heir apparent could protect it. but then i was reduced to be serious with them; their clamour then became an insolence, which i thought it my duty by the sacrifice of any interest of my own to put an end to. i therefore quitted the actor for the author, and, stepping forward to the pit, told them, _that since i found they were not inclin'd that this play should go forward, i gave them my word that after this night it should never be acted agen: but that, in the mean time, i hop'd they would consider in whose presence they were, and for that reason at least would suspend what farther marks of their displeasure they might imagine i had deserved._ at this there was a dead silence; and after some little pause, a few civiliz'd hands signify'd their approbation. when the play went on, i observ'd about a dozen persons of no extraordinary appearance sullenly walk'd out of the pit. after which, every scene of it, while uninterrupted, met with more applause than my best hopes had expected. but it came too late: peace to its _manes_! i had given my word it should fall, and i kept it by giving out another play for the next day, though i knew the boxes were all lett for the same again. such, then, was the treatment i met with: how much of it the errors of the play might deserve i refer to the judgment of those who may have curiosity and idle time enough to read it.[ ] but if i had no occasion to complain of the reception it met with from its _quieted_ audience, sure it can be no great vanity to impute its disgraces chiefly to that severe resentment which a groundless report of me had inflam'd: yet those disgraces have left me something to boast of, an honour preferable even to the applause of my enemies: a noble lord came behind the scenes, and told me, from the box, where he was in waiting, _that what i said to quiet the audience was extremely well taken there; and that i had been commended for it in a very obliging manner_. now, though this was the only tumult that i have known to have been so effectually appeas'd these fifty years by any thing that could be said to an audience in the same humour, i will not take any great merit to myself upon it; because when, like me, you will but humbly submit to their doing you all the mischief they can, they will at any time be satisfy'd. i have mention'd this particular fact to inforce what i before observ'd, that the private character of an actor will always more or less affect his publick performance. and if i suffer'd so much from the bare _suspicion_ of my having been guilty of a base action, what should not an actor expect that is hardy enough to think his whole private character of no consequence? i could offer many more, tho' less severe instances of the same nature. i have seen the most tender sentiment of love in tragedy create laughter, instead of compassion, when it has been applicable to the real engagements of the person that utter'd it. i have known good parts thrown up, from an humble consciousness that something in them might put an audience in mind of--what was rather wish'd might be forgotten: those remarkable words of _evadne_, in the _maid's tragedy--a maidenhead_, amintor, _at my years_?--have sometimes been a much stronger jest for being a true one. but these are reproaches which in all nations the theatre must have been us'd to, unless we could suppose actors something more than human creatures, void of faults or frailties. 'tis a misfortune at least not limited to the _english_ stage. i have seen the better-bred audience in _paris_ made merry even with a modest expression, when it has come from the mouth of an actress whose private character it seem'd not to belong to. the apprehension of these kind of fleers from the witlings of a pit has been carry'd so far in our own country, that a late valuable actress[ ] (who was conscious her beauty was not her greatest merit) desired the warmth of some lines might be abated when they have made her too remarkably handsome: but in this discretion she was alone, few others were afraid of undeserving the finest things that could be said to them. but to consider this matter seriously, i cannot but think, at a play, a sensible auditor would contribute all he could to his being well deceiv'd, and not suffer his imagination so far to wander from the well-acted character before him, as to gratify a frivolous spleen by mocks or personal sneers on the performer, at the expence of his better entertainment. but i must now take up _wilks_ and _powel_ again where i left them. though the contention for superiority between them seem'd about this time to end in favour of the former, yet the distress of the patentee (in having his servant his master, as _powel_ had lately been), was not much reliev'd by the victory; he had only chang'd the man, but not the malady: for _wilks_, by being in possession of so many good parts, fell into the common error of most actors, that of over-rating their merit, or never thinking it is so thoroughly consider'd as it ought to be, which generally makes them proportionably troublesome to the master, who they might consider only pays them to profit by them. the patentee therefore found it as difficult to satisfy the continual demands of _wilks_ as it was dangerous to refuse them; very few were made that were not granted, and as few were granted as were not grudg'd him: not but our good master was as sly a tyrant as ever was at the head of a theatre; for he gave the actors more liberty, and fewer days pay, than any of his predecessors: he would laugh with them over a bottle, and bite[ ] them in their bargains: he kept them poor, that they might not be able to rebel; and sometimes merry, that they might not think of it: all their articles of agreement had a clause in them that he was sure to creep out at, _viz._ their respective sallaries were to be paid in such manner and proportion as others of the same company were paid; which in effect made them all, when he pleas'd, but limited sharers of loss, and himself sole proprietor of profits; and this loss or profit they only had such verbal accounts of as he thought proper to give them. 'tis true, he would sometimes advance them money (but not more than he knew at most could be due to them) upon their bonds; upon which, whenever they were mutinous, he would threaten to sue them. this was the net we danc'd in for several years: but no wonder we were dupes, while our master was a lawyer. this grievance, however, _wilks_ was resolv'd, for himself at least, to remedy at any rate; and grew daily more intractable, for every day his redress was delay'd. here our master found himself under a difficulty he knew not well how to get out of: for as he was a close subtle man, he seldom made use of a confident in his schemes of government:[ ] but here the old expedient of delay would stand him in no longer stead; _wilks_ must instantly be comply'd with, or _powel_ come again into power! in a word, he was push'd so home, that he was reduc'd even to take my opinion into his assistance: for he knew i was a rival to neither of them; perhaps, too, he had fancy'd that, from the success of my first play, i might know as much of the stage, and what made an actor valuable, as either of them: he saw, too, that tho' they had each of them five good parts to my one, yet the applause which in my few i had met with, was given me by better judges than as yet had approv'd of the best they had done. they generally measured the goodness of a part by the quantity or length of it: i thought none bad for being short that were closely-natural; nor any the better for being long, without that valuable quality. but in this, i doubt, as to their interest, they judg'd better than myself; for i have generally observ'd that those who do a great deal not ill, have been preferr'd to those who do but little, though never so masterly. and therefore i allow that, while there were so few good parts, and as few good judges of them, it ought to have been no wonder to me, that as an actor i was less valued by the master or the common people than either of them: all the advantage i had of them was, that by not being troublesome i had more of our master's personal inclination than any actor of the male sex;[ ] and so much of it, that i was almost the only one whom at that time he us'd to take into his parties of pleasure; very often _tete à tete_, and sometimes in a _partie quarrèe_. these then were the qualifications, however good or bad, to which may be imputed our master's having made choice of me to assist him in the difficulty under which he now labour'd. he was himself sometimes inclin'd to set up _powel_ again as a check upon the overbearing temper of _wilks_: tho' to say truth, he lik'd neither of them, but was still under a necessity that one of them should preside, tho' he scarce knew which of the two evils to chuse. this question, when i happen'd to be alone with him, was often debated in our evening conversation; nor, indeed, did i find it an easy matter to know which party i ought to recommend to his election. i knew they were neither of them well-wishers to me, as in common they were enemies to most actors in proportion to the merit that seem'd to be rising in them. but as i had the prosperity of the stage more at heart than any other consideration, i could not be long undetermined in my opinion, and therefore gave it to our master at once in favour of _wilks_. i, with all the force i could muster, insisted, "that if _powel_ were preferr'd, the ill example of his negligence and abandon'd character (whatever his merit on the stage might be) would reduce our company to contempt and beggary; observing, at the same time, in how much better order our affairs went forward since _wilks_ came among us, of which i recounted several instances that are not so necessary to tire my reader with. all this, though he allow'd to be true, yet _powel_, he said, was a better actor than _wilks_ when he minded his business (that is to say, when he was, what he seldom was, sober). but _powel_, it seems, had a still greater merit to him, which was, (as he observ'd) that when affairs were in his hands, he had kept the actors quiet, without one day's pay, for six weeks together, and it was not every body could do that; for you see, said he, _wilks_ will never be easy unless i give him his whole pay, when others have it not, and what an injustice would that be to the rest if i were to comply with him? how do i know but then they may be all in a mutiny, and _mayhap_ (that was his expression) with _powel_ at the head of 'em?" by this specimen of our debate, it may be judg'd under how particular and merry a government the theatre then labour'd. to conclude, this matter ended in a resolution to sign a new agreement with _wilks_, which entitled him to his full pay of four pounds a week without any conditional deductions. how far soever my advice might have contributed to our master's settling his affairs upon this foot, i never durst make the least merit of it to _wilks_, well knowing that his great heart would have taken it as a mortal affront had i (tho' never so distantly) hinted that his demands had needed any assistance but the justice of them. from this time, then, _wilks_ became first minister, or bustle-master-general of the company.[ ] he now seem'd to take new delight in keeping the actors close to their business, and got every play reviv'd with care in which he had acted the chief part in _dublin_: 'tis true, this might be done with a particular view of setting off himself to advantage; but if at the same time it served the company, he ought not to want our commendation: now, tho' my own conduct neither had the appearance of his merit, nor the reward that follow'd his industry, i cannot help observing that it shew'd me, to the best of my power, a more cordial commonwealth's man: his first views in serving himself made his service to the whole but an incidental merit; whereas, by my prosecuting the means to make him easy in his pay, unknown to him, or without asking any favour for my self at the same time, i gave a more unquestionable proof of my preferring the publick to my private interest: from the same principle i never murmur'd at whatever little parts fell to my share, and though i knew it would not recommend me to the favour of the common people, i often submitted to play wicked characters rather than they should be worse done by weaker actors than my self: but perhaps, in all this patience under my situation, i supported my spirits by a conscious vanity: for i fancied i had more reason to value myself upon being sometimes the confident and companion of our master, than _wilks_ had in all the more publick favours he had extorted from him. i imagined, too, there was sometimes as much skill to be shewn in a short part, as in the most voluminous, which he generally made choice of; that even the coxcombly follies of a sir _john daw_ might as well distinguish the capacity of an actor, as all the dry enterprizes and busy conduct of a _truewit_.[ ] nor could i have any reason to repine at the superiority he enjoy'd, when i consider'd at how dear a rate it was purchased, at the continual expence of a restless jealousy and fretful impatience----these were the passions that, in the height of his successes, kept him lean to his last hour, while what i wanted in rank or glory was amply made up to me in ease and chearfulness. but let not this observation either lessen his merit or lift up my own; since our different tempers were not in our choice, but equally natural to both of us. to be employ'd on the stage was the delight of his life; to be justly excused from it was the joy of mine: i lov'd ease, and he pre-eminence: in that, he might be more commendable. tho' he often disturb'd me, he seldom could do it without more disordering himself:[ ] in our disputes, his warmth could less bear truth than i could support manifest injuries: he would hazard our undoing to gratify his passions, tho' otherwise an honest man; and i rather chose to give up my reason, or not see my wrong, than ruin our community by an equal rashness. by this opposite conduct our accounts at the end of our labours stood thus: while he lived he was the elder man, when he died he was not so old as i am: he never left the stage till he left the world: i never so well enjoy'd the world as when i left the stage: he died in possession of his wishes; and i, by having had a less cholerick ambition, am still tasting mine in health and liberty. but as he in a great measure wore out the organs of life in his incessant labours to gratify the publick, the many whom he gave pleasure to will always owe his memory a favourable report--some facts that will vouch for the truth of this account will be found in the sequel of these memoirs. if i have spoke with more freedom of his quondam competitor _powel_, let my good intentions to future actors, in shewing what will so much concern them to avoid, be my excuse for it: for though _powel_ had from nature much more than _wilks_; in voice and ear, in elocution in tragedy, and humour in comedy, greatly the advantage of him; yet, as i have observ'd, from the neglect and abuse of those valuable gifts, he suffer'd _wilks_ to be of thrice the service to our society. let me give another instance of the reward and favour which, in a theatre, diligence and sobriety seldom fail of: _mills_ the elder[ ] grew into the friendship of _wilks_ with not a great deal more than those useful qualities to recommend him: he was an honest, quiet, careful man, of as few faults as excellencies, and _wilks_ rather chose him for his second in many plays, than an actor of perhaps greater skill that was not so laboriously diligent. and from this constant assiduity, _mills_, with making to himself a friend in _wilks_, was advanced to a larger sallary than any man-actor had enjoy'd during my time on the stage.[ ] i have yet to offer a more happy recommendation of temperance, which a late celebrated actor was warn'd into by the mis-conduct of _powel_. about the year that _wilks_ return'd from _dublin_, _booth_, who had commenced actor upon that theatre, came over to the company in _lincolns-inn-fields_:[ ] he was then but an under-graduate of the buskin, and, as he told me himself, had been for some time too frank a lover of the bottle; but having had the happiness to observe into what contempt and distresses _powel_ had plung'd himself by the same vice, he was so struck with the terror of his example, that he fix'd a resolution (which from that time to the end of his days he strictly observ'd) of utterly reforming it; an uncommon act of philosophy in a young man! of which in his fame and fortune he afterwards enjoy'd the reward and benefit. these observations i have not merely thrown together as a moralist, but to prove that the briskest loose liver or intemperate man (though morality were out of the question) can never arrive at the necessary excellencies of a good or useful actor. chapter viii. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the patentee of_ drury-lane _wiser than his actors_. _his particular menagement. the author continues to write plays. why. the best dramatick poets censured by_ j. collier, _in his_ short view of the stage. _it has a good effect. the master of the revels, from that time, cautious in his licensing new plays. a complaint against him. his authority founded upon custom only. the late law for fixing that authority in a proper person, considered._ though the master of our theatre had no conception himself of theatrical merit either in authors or actors, yet his judgment was govern'd by a saving rule in both: he look'd into his receipts for the value of a play, and from common fame he judg'd of his actors. but by whatever rule he was govern'd, while he had prudently reserv'd to himself a power of not paying them more than their merit could get, he could not be much deceived by their being over or under-valued. in a word, he had with great skill inverted the constitution of the stage, and quite changed the channel of profits arising from it; formerly, (when there was but one company) the proprietors punctually paid the actors their appointed sallaries, and took to themselves only the clear profits: but our wiser proprietor took first out of every day's receipts two shillings in the pound to himself; and left their sallaries to be paid only as the less or greater deficiencies of acting (according to his own accounts) would permit. what seem'd most extraordinary in these measures was, that at the same time he had persuaded us to be contented with our condition, upon his assuring us that as fast as money would come in we should all be paid our arrears: and that we might not have it always in our power to say he had never intended to keep his word, i remember in a few years after this time he once paid us nine days in one week: this happen'd when the _funeral_, or _grief à la mode_,[ ] was first acted, with more than expected success. whether this well-tim'd bounty was only allow'd us to save appearances i will not say: but if that was his real motive for it, it was too costly a frolick to be repeated, and was at least the only grimace of its kind he vouchsafed us; we never having received one day more of those arrears in above fifteen years service. while the actors were in this condition, i think i may very well be excused in my presuming to write plays: which i was forced to do for the support of my encreasing family, my precarious income as an actor being then too scanty to supply it with even the necessaries of life. it may be observable, too, that my muse and my spouse were equally prolifick; that the one was seldom the mother of a child, but in the same year the other made me the father of a play: i think we had a dozen of each sort between us; of both which kinds, some died in their infancy, and near an equal number of each were alive when i quitted the theatre--but it is no wonder, when a muse is only call'd upon by family duty, she should not always rejoice in the fruit of her labour. to this necessity of writing, then, i attribute the defects of my second play, which, coming out too hastily the year after my first, turn'd to very little account. but having got as much by my first as i ought to have expected from the success of them both, i had no great reason to complain: not but, i confess, so bad was my second, that i do not chuse to tell you the name of it; and that it might be peaceably forgotten, i have not given it a place in the two volumes of those i publish'd in quarto in the year .[ ] and whenever i took upon me to make some dormant play of an old author to the best of my judgment fitter for the stage, it was honestly not to be idle that set me to work; as a good housewife will mend old linnen when she has not better employment: but when i was more warmly engag'd by a subject entirely new, i only thought it a good subject when it seem'd worthy of an abler pen than my own, and might prove as useful to the hearer as profitable to my self: therefore, whatever any of my productions might want of skill, learning, wit, or humour, or however unqualify'd i might be to instruct others who so ill govern'd my self: yet such plays (entirely my own) were not wanting, at least, in what our most admired writers seem'd to neglect, and without which i cannot allow the most taking play to be intrinsically good, or to be a work upon which a man of sense and probity should value himself: i mean when they do not, as well _prodesse_ as _delectare_,[ ] give profit with delight! the _utile dulci_[ ] was, of old, equally the point; and has always been my aim, however wide of the mark i may have shot my arrow. it has often given me amazement that our best authors of that time could think the wit and spirit of their scenes could be an excuse for making the looseness of them publick. the many instances of their talents so abused are too glaring to need a closer comment, and are sometimes too gross to be recited. if then to have avoided this imputation, or rather to have had the interest and honour of virtue always in view, can give merit to a play, i am contented that my readers should think such merit the all that mine have to boast of--libertines of meer wit and pleasure may laugh at these grave laws that would limit a lively genius: but every sensible honest man, conscious of their truth and use, will give these ralliers smile for smile, and shew a due contempt for their merriment. but while our authors took these extraordinary liberties with their wit, i remember the ladies were then observ'd to be decently afraid of venturing bare-fac'd to a new comedy 'till they had been assur'd they might do it without the risque of an insult to their modesty--or, if their curiosity were too strong for their patience, they took care, at least, to save appearances, and rarely came upon the first days of acting but in masks, (then daily worn and admitted in the pit, the side boxes, and gallery[ ]) which custom, however, had so many ill consequences attending it, that it has been abolish'd these many years. these immoralities of the stage had by an avow'd indulgence been creeping into it ever since king _charles_ his time; nothing that was loose could then be too low for it: the _london cuckolds_, the most rank play that ever succeeded,[ ] was then in the highest court-favour: in this almost general corruption, _dryden_, whose plays were more fam'd for their wit than their chastity, led the way, which he fairly confesses, and endeavours to excuse in his epilogue to the _pilgrim_, revived in for his benefit,[ ] in his declining age and fortune--the following lines of it will make good my observation. _perhaps the parson[ ] stretch'd a point too far, when with our theatres he wag'd a war. he tells you that this very moral age receiv'd the first infection from the stage. but sure, a banish'd court, with lewdness fraught, the seeds of open vice returning brought. thus lodg'd (as vice by great example thrives) it first debauch'd the daughters, and the wives._ london, _a fruitful soil, yet never bore so plentiful a crop of horns before. the poets, who must live by courts or starve, were proud so good a government to serve. and mixing with buffoons and pimps profane, tainted the stage for some small snip of gain. for they, like harlots under bawds profest, took all th' ungodly pains, and got the least. thus did the thriving malady prevail, the court it's head, the poets but the tail. the sin was of our native growth, 'tis true, the scandal of the sin was wholly new. misses there were, but modestly conceal'd;_ whitehall _the naked_ venus _first reveal'd. who standing, as at_ cyprus, _in her shrine, the strumpet was ador'd with rites divine_, &c. this epilogue, and the prologue to the same play, written by _dryden_, i spoke myself, which not being usually done by the same person, i have a mind, while i think of it, to let you know on what occasion they both fell to my share, and how other actors were affected by it. sir _john vanbrugh_, who had given some light touches of his pen to the _pilgrim_ to assist the benefit day of _dryden_, had the disposal of the parts, and i being then as an actor in some favour with him, he read the play first with me alone, and was pleased to offer me my choice of what i might like best for myself in it. but as the chief characters were not (according to my taste) the most shining, it was no great self-denial in me that i desir'd he would first take care of those who were more difficult to be pleased; i therefore only chose for myself two short incidental parts, that of _the stuttering cook_[ ] and _the mad englishman_. in which homely characters i saw more matter for delight than those that might have a better pretence to the amiable: and when the play came to be acted i was not deceiv'd in my choice. sir _john_, upon my being contented with so little a share in the entertainment, gave me the epilogue to make up my mess; which being written so much above the strain of common authors, i confess i was not a little pleased with. and _dryden_, upon his hearing me repeat it to him, made me a farther compliment of trusting me with the prologue. this so particular distinction was looked upon by the actors as something too extraordinary. but no one was so impatiently ruffled at it as _wilks_, who seldom chose soft words when he spoke of any thing he did not like. the most gentle thing he said of it was, that he did not understand such treatment; that for his part he look'd upon it as an affront to all the rest of the company, that there shou'd be but one out of the whole judg'd fit to speak either a prologue or an epilogue! to quiet him i offer'd to decline either in his favour, or both, if it were equally easy to the author: but he was too much concern'd to accept of an offer that had been made to another in preference to himself, and which he seem'd to think his best way of resenting was to contemn. but from that time, however, he was resolv'd, to the best of his power, never to let the first offer of a prologue escape him: which little ambition sometimes made him pay too dear for his success: the flatness of the many miserable prologues that by this means fell to his lot, seem'd wofully unequal to the few good ones he might have reason to triumph in. i have given you this fact only as a sample of those frequent rubs and impediments i met with when any step was made to my being distinguish'd as an actor; and from this incident, too, you may partly see what occasion'd so many prologues, after the death of _betterton_, to fall into the hands of one speaker: but it is not every successor to a vacant post that brings into it the talents equal to those of a predecessor. to speak a good prologue well is, in my opinion, one of the hardest parts and strongest proofs of sound elocution, of which, i confess, i never thought that any of the several who attempted it shew'd themselves, by far, equal masters to _betterton_. _betterton_, in the delivery of a good prologue, had a natural gravity that gave strength to good sense, a temper'd spirit that gave life to wit, and a dry reserve in his smile that threw ridicule into its brightest colours. of these qualities, in the speaking of a prologue, _booth_ only had the first, but attain'd not to the other two: _wilks_ had spirit, but gave too loose a rein to it, and it was seldom he could speak a grave and weighty verse harmoniously: his accents were frequently too sharp and violent, which sometimes occasion'd his eagerly cutting off half the sound of syllables that ought to have been gently melted into the melody of metre: in verses of humour, too, he would sometimes carry the mimickry farther than the hint would bear, even to a trifling light, as if himself were pleased to see it so glittering. in the truth of this criticism i have been confirm'd by those whose judgment i dare more confidently rely on than my own: _wilks_ had many excellencies, but if we leave prologue-speaking out of the number he will still have enough to have made him a valuable actor. and i only make this exception from them to caution others from imitating what, in his time, they might have too implicitly admired---- but i have a word or two more to say concerning the immoralities of the stage. our theatrical writers were not only accus'd of immorality, but prophaneness; many flagrant instances of which were collected and published by a nonjuring clergyman, _jeremy collier_, in his _view of the stage_, &c. about the year .[ ] however just his charge against the authors that then wrote for it might be, i cannot but think his sentence against the stage itself is unequal; reformation he thinks too mild a treatment for it, and is therefore for laying his ax to the root of it: if this were to be a rule of judgment for offences of the same nature, what might become of the pulpit, where many a seditious and corrupted teacher has been known to cover the most pernicious doctrine with the masque of religion? this puts me in mind of what the noted _jo. hains_,[ ] the comedian, a fellow of a wicked wit, said upon this occasion; who being ask'd what could transport mr. _collier_ into so blind a zeal for a general suppression of the stage, when only some particular authors had abus'd it? whereas the stage, he could not but know, was generally allow'd, when rightly conducted, to be a delightful method of mending our morals? "for that reason," reply'd _hains_: "_collier_ is by profession a moral-mender himself, and two of trade, you know, can never agree.[ ]" [illustration: william congreve.] the authors of _the old batchelor_ and of the _relapse_ were those whom _collier_ most labour'd to convict of immorality; to which they severally publish'd their reply; the first seem'd too much hurt to be able to defend himself, and the other felt him so little that his wit only laugh'd at his lashes.[ ] my first play of the _fool in fashion_, too, being then in a course of success; perhaps for that reason only, this severe author thought himself oblig'd to attack it; in which i hope he has shewn more zeal than justice, his greatest charge against it is, that it sometimes uses the word _faith!_ as an oath, in the dialogue: but if _faith_ may as well signify our given word or credit as our religious belief, why might not his charity have taken it in the less criminal sense? nevertheless, mr. _collier_'s book was upon the whole thought so laudable a work, that king _william_, soon after it was publish'd, granted him a _nolo prosequi_ when he stood answerable to the law for his having absolved two criminals just before they were executed for high treason. and it must be farther granted that his calling our dramatick writers to this strict account had a very wholesome effect upon those who writ after this time. they were now a great deal more upon their guard; indecencies were no longer wit; and by degrees the fair sex came again to fill the boxes on the first day of a new comedy, without fear or censure. but the master of the revels,[ ] who then licens'd all plays for the stage, assisted this reformation with a more zealous severity than ever. he would strike out whole scenes of a vicious or immoral character, tho' it were visibly shewn to be reform'd or punish'd; a severe instance of this kind falling upon my self may be an excuse for my relating it: when _richard the third_ (as i alter'd it from _shakespear_)[ ] came from his hands to the stage, he expung'd the whole first act without sparing a line of it. this extraordinary stroke of a _sic volo_ occasion'd my applying to him for the small indulgence of a speech or two, that the other four acts might limp on with a little less absurdity! no! he had not leisure to consider what might be separately inoffensive. he had an objection to the whole act, and the reason he gave for it was, that the distresses of king _henry the sixth_, who is kill'd by _richard_ in the first act, would put weak people too much in mind of king _james_ then living in _france_; a notable proof of his zeal for the government![ ] those who have read either the play or the history, i dare say will think he strain'd hard for the parallel. in a word, we were forc'd, for some few years, to let the play take its fate with only four acts divided into five; by the loss of so considerable a limb, may one not modestly suppose it was robbed of at least a fifth part of that favour it afterwards met with? for tho' this first act was at last recovered, and made the play whole again, yet the relief came too late to repay me for the pains i had taken in it. nor did i ever hear that this zealous severity of the master of the revels was afterwards thought justifiable. but my good fortune, in process of time, gave me an opportunity to talk with my oppressor in my turn. the patent granted by his majesty king _george_ the first to sir _richard steele_ and his assigns,[ ] of which i was one, made us sole judges of what plays might be proper for the stage, without submitting them to the approbation or license of any other particular person. notwithstanding which, the master of the revels demanded his fee of forty shillings upon our acting a new one, tho' we had spared him the trouble of perusing it. this occasion'd my being deputed to him to enquire into the right of his demand, and to make an amicable end of our dispute.[ ] i confess i did not dislike the office; and told him, according to my instructions, that i came not to defend even our own right in prejudice to his; that if our patent had inadvertently superseded the grant of any former power or warrant whereon he might ground his pretensions, we would not insist upon our broad seal, but would readily answer his demands upon sight of such his warrant, any thing in our patent to the contrary notwithstanding. this i had reason to think he could not do; and when i found he made no direct reply to my question, i repeated it with greater civilities and offers of compliance, 'till i was forc'd in the end to conclude with telling him, that as his pretensions were not back'd with any visible instrument of right, and as his strongest plea was custom, we could not so far extend our complaisance as to continue his fees upon so slender a claim to them: and from that time neither our plays or his fees gave either of us any farther trouble. in this negotiation i am the bolder to think justice was on our side, because the law lately pass'd,[ ] by which the power of licensing plays, _&c._ is given to a proper person, is a strong presumption that no law had ever given that power to any such person before. my having mentioned this law, which so immediately affected the stage, inclines me to throw out a few observations upon it: but i must first lead you gradually thro' the facts and natural causes that made such a law necessary. although it had been taken for granted, from time immemorial, that no company of comedians could act plays, _&c._ without the royal license or protection of some legal authority, a theatre was, notwithstanding, erected in _goodman's-fields_ about seven years ago,[ ] where plays, without any such license, were acted for some time unmolested and with impunity. after a year or two, this playhouse was thought a nusance too near the city: upon which the lord-mayor and aldermen petition'd the crown to suppress it: what steps were taken in favour of that petition i know not, but common fame seem'd to allow, from what had or had not been done in it, that acting plays in the said theatre was not evidently unlawful.[ ] however, this question of acting without a license a little time after came to a nearer decision in _westminster-hall_; the occasion of bringing it thither was this: it happened that the purchasers of the patent, to whom mr. _booth_ and myself had sold our shares,[ ] were at variance with the comedians that were then left to their government, and the variance ended in the chief of those comedians deserting and setting up for themselves in the little house in the _hay-market_, in , by which desertion the patentees were very much distressed and considerable losers. their affairs being in this desperate condition, they were advis'd to put the act of the twelfth of queen _anne_ against vagabonds in force against these deserters, then acting in the _hay-market_ without license. accordingly, one of their chief performers[ ] was taken from the stage by a justice of peace his warrant, and committed to _bridewell_ as one within the penalty of the said act. when the legality of this commitment was disputed in _westminster-hall_, by all i could observe from the learned pleadings on both sides (for i had the curiosity to hear them) it did not appear to me that the comedian so committed was within the description of the said act, he being a housekeeper and having a vote for the _westminster_ members of parliament. he was discharged accordingly, and conducted through the hall with the congratulations of the crowds that attended and wish'd well to his cause. the issue of this trial threw me at that time into a very odd reflexion, _viz._ that if acting plays without license did not make the performers vagabonds unless they wandered from their habitations so to do, how particular was the case of us three late menaging actors at the _theatre-royal_, who in twenty years before had paid upon an averidge at least twenty thousand pounds to be protected (as actors) from a law that has not since appeared to be against us. now, whether we might certainly have acted without any license at all i shall not pretend to determine; but this i have of my own knowledge to say, that in queen _anne_'s reign the stage was in such confusion, and its affairs in such distress, that sir _john vanbrugh_ and mr. _congreve_, after they had held it about one year, threw up the menagement of it as an unprofitable post, after which a license for acting was not thought worth any gentleman's asking for, and almost seem'd to go a begging, 'till some time after, by the care, application, and industry of three actors, it became so prosperous, and the profits so considerable, that it created a new place, and a _sine-cure_ of a thousand pounds a year,[ ] which the labour of those actors constantly paid to such persons as had from time to time merit or interest enough to get their names inserted as fourth menagers in a license with them for acting plays, _&c._ a preferment that many a sir _francis wronghead_ would have jump'd at.[ ] but to go on with my story. this endeavour of the patentees to suppress the comedians acting in the _hay-market_ proving ineffectual, and no hopes of a reunion then appearing, the remains of the company left in _drury-lane_ were reduced to a very low condition. at this time a third purchaser, _charles fleetwood_, esq., stept in; who judging the best time to buy was when the stock was at the lowest price, struck up a bargain at once for five parts in six of the patent;[ ] and, at the same time, gave the revolted comedians their own terms to return and come under his government in _drury-lane_, where they now continue to act at very ample sallaries, as i am informed, in .[ ] but (as i have observ'd) the late cause of the prosecuted comedian having gone so strongly in his favour, and the house in _goodman's-fields_, too, continuing to act with as little authority unmolested; these so tolerated companies gave encouragement to a broken wit to collect a fourth company, who for some time acted plays in the _hay-market_, which house the united _drury-lane_ comedians had lately quitted: this enterprising person, i say (whom i do not chuse to name,[ ] unless it could be to his advantage, or that it were of importance) had sense enough to know that the best plays with bad actors would turn but to a very poor account; and therefore found it necessary to give the publick some pieces of an extraordinary kind, the poetry of which he conceiv'd ought to be so strong that the greatest dunce of an actor could not spoil it: he knew, too, that as he was in haste to get money, it would take up less time to be intrepidly abusive than decently entertaining; that to draw the mob after him he must rake the channel[ ] and pelt their superiors; that, to shew himself somebody, he must come up to _juvenal_'s advice and stand the consequence: _aude aliquid brevibus gyaris, & carcere dignum si vis esse aliquis_---- juv. sat. i.[ ] such, then, was the mettlesome modesty he set out with; upon this principle he produc'd several frank and free farces that seem'd to knock all distinctions of mankind on the head: religion, laws, government, priests, judges, and ministers, were all laid flat at the feet of this _herculean_ satyrist! this _drawcansir_ in wit,[ ] that spared neither friend nor foe! who to make his poetical fame immortal, like another _erostratus_, set fire to his stage by writing up to an act of parliament to demolish it.[ ] i shall not give the particular strokes of his ingenuity a chance to be remembred by reciting them; it may be enough to say, in general terms, they were so openly flagrant, that the wisdom of the legislature thought it high time to take a proper notice of them.[ ] having now shewn by what means there came to be four theatres, besides a fifth for operas, in _london_, all open at the same time, and that while they were so numerous it was evident some of them must have starv'd unless they fed upon the trash and filth of buffoonry and licentiousness; i now come, as i promis'd, to speak of that necessary law which has reduced their number and prevents the repetition of such abuses in those that remain open for the publick recreation. [illustration: charlotte charke.] while this law was in debate a lively spirit and uncommon eloquence was employ'd against it.[ ] it was urg'd that _one_ of the greatest goods we can enjoy is _liberty_. (this we may grant to be an incontestable truth, without its being the least objection to this law.) it was said, too, that to bring the stage under the restraint of a licenser was leading the way to an attack upon the liberty of the press. this amounts but to a jealousy at best, which i hope and believe all honest _englishmen_ have as much reason to think a groundless, as to fear it is a just jealousy: for the stage and the press, i shall endeavour to shew, are very different weapons to wound with. if a great man could be no more injured by being personally ridicul'd or made contemptible in a play, than by the same matter only printed and read against him in a pamphlet or the strongest verse; then, indeed, the stage and the press might pretend to be upon an equal foot of liberty: but when the wide difference between these two liberties comes to be explain'd and consider'd, i dare say we shall find the injuries from one capable of being ten times more severe and formidable than from the other: let us see, at least, if the case will not be vastly alter'd. read what mr. _collier_ in his _defence_ of his _short view of the stage_, &c. page , says to this point; he sets this difference in a clear light. these are his words: "the satyr of a _comedian_ and another _poet_, have a different effect upon reputation. a character of disadvantage upon the _stage_, makes a stronger impression than elsewhere. reading is but hearing at the second hand; now hearing at the best, is a more languid conveyance than sight. for as _horace_ observes, _segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem, quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus._[ ] the eye is much more affecting, and strikes deeper into the memory than the ear. besides, upon the _stage_ both the senses are in conjunction. the life of the action fortifies the object, and awakens the mind to take hold of it. thus a dramatick abuse is rivetted in the audience, a jest is improv'd into an argument, and rallying grows up into reason: thus a character of scandal becomes almost indelible, a man goes for a blockhead upon _content_; and he that's made a fool in a _play_, is often made one for his life-time. 'tis true he passes for such only among the prejudiced and unthinking; but these are no inconsiderable division of mankind. for these reasons, i humbly conceive the _stage_ stands in need of a great deal of discipline and restraint: to give them an unlimited range, is in effect to make them masters of all moral distinctions, and to lay honour and religion at their mercy. to shew greatness ridiculous, is the way to lose the use, and abate the value of the quality. things made little in jest, will soon be so in earnest: for laughing and esteem, are seldom bestow'd on the same object." if this was truth and reason (as sure it was) forty years ago, will it not carry the same conviction with it to these days, when there came to be a much stronger call for a reformation of the stage, than when this author wrote against it, or perhaps than was ever known since the _english_ stage had a being? and now let us ask another question! does not the general opinion of mankind suppose that the honour and reputation of a minister is, or ought to be, as dear to him as his life? yet when the law, in queen _anne_'s time, had made even an unsuccessful attempt upon the life of a minister capital, could any reason be found that the fame and honour of his character should not be under equal protection? was the wound that _guiscard_ gave to the late lord _oxford_, when a minister,[ ] a greater injury than the theatrical insult which was offer'd to a later minister, in a more valuable part, his character? was it not as high time, then, to take this dangerous weapon of mimical insolence and defamation out of the hands of a mad poet, as to wrest the knife from the lifted hand of a murderer? and is not that law of a milder nature which _prevents_ a crime, than that which _punishes_ it after it is committed? may not one think it amazing that the liberty of defaming lawful power and dignity should have been so eloquently contended for? or especially that this liberty ought to triumph in a theatre, where the most able, the most innocent, and most upright person must himself be, while the wound is given, defenceless? how long must a man so injur'd lie bleeding before the pain and anguish of his fame (if it suffers wrongfully) can be dispell'd? or say he had deserv'd reproof and publick accusation, yet the weight and greatness of his office never can deserve it from a publick stage, where the lowest malice by sawcy parallels and abusive inuendoes may do every thing but name him: but alas! liberty is so tender, so chaste a virgin, that it seems not to suffer her to do irreparable injuries with impunity is a violation of her! it cannot sure be a principle of liberty that would turn the stage into a court of enquiry, that would let the partial applauses of a vulgar audience give sentence upon the conduct of authority, and put impeachments into the mouth of a _harlequin_? will not every impartial man think that malice, envy, faction, and mis-rule, might have too much advantage over lawful power, if the range of such a stage-liberty were unlimited and insisted on to be enroll'd among the glorious rights of an _english_ subject? i remember much such another ancient liberty, which many of the good people of _england_ were once extremely fond of; i mean that of throwing squibs and crackers at all spectators without distinction upon a lord-mayor's day; but about forty years ago a certain nobleman happening to have one of his eyes burnt out by this mischievous merriment, it occasion'd a penal law to prevent those sorts of jests from being laugh'd at for the future: yet i have never heard that the most zealous patriot ever thought such a law was the least restraint upon our liberty. if i am ask'd why i am so voluntary a champion for the honour of this law that has limited the number of play-houses, and which now can no longer concern me as a professor of the stage? i reply, that it being a law so nearly relating to the theatre, it seems not at all foreign to my history to have taken notice of it; and as i have farther promised to give the publick a true portrait of my mind, i ought fairly to let them see how far i am, or am not, a blockhead, when i pretend to talk of serious matters that may be judg'd so far above my capacity: nor will it in the least discompose me whether my observations are contemn'd or applauded. a blockhead is not always an unhappy fellow, and if the world will not flatter us, we can flatter ourselves; perhaps, too, it will be as difficult to convince us we are in the wrong, as that you wiser gentlemen are one tittle the better for your knowledge. it is yet a question with me whether we weak heads have not as much pleasure, too, in giving our shallow reason a little exercise, as those clearer brains have that are allow'd to dive into the deepest doubts and mysteries; to reflect or form a judgment upon remarkable things _past_ is as delightful to me as it is to the gravest politician to penetrate into what is _present_, or to enter into speculations upon what is, or is not likely to come. why are histories written, if all men are not to judge of them? therefore, if my reader has no more to do than i have, i have a chance for his being as willing to have a little more upon the same subject as i am to give it him. when direct arguments against this bill were found too weak, recourse was had to dissuasive ones: it was said that _this restraint upon the stage would not remedy the evil complain'd of_: _that a play refus'd to be licensed would still be printed, with double advantage, when it should be insinuated that it was refused for some strokes of wit,_ &c. _and would be more likely then to have its effect among the people._ however natural this consequence may seem, i doubt it will be very difficult to give a _printed_ satyr or libel half the force or credit of an _acted_ one. the most artful or notorious lye or strain'd allusion that ever slander'd a great man, may be read by some people with a smile of contempt, or, at worst, it can impose but on one person at once: but when the words of the same plausible stuff shall be repeated on a theatre, the wit of it among a crowd of hearers is liable to be over-valued, and may unite and warm a whole body of the malicious or ignorant into a plaudit; nay, the partial claps of only _twenty_ ill-minded persons among several hundreds of silent hearers shall, and often have been, mistaken for a general approbation, and frequently draw into their party the indifferent or inapprehensive, who rather than be thought not to understand the conceit, will laugh with the laughers and join in the triumph! but alas! the _quiet_ reader of the same ingenious matter can only like for _himself_; and the poison has a much slower operation upon the body of a people when it is so retail'd out, than when sold to a full audience by wholesale. the _single_ reader, too, may happen to be a sensible or unprejudiced person; and then the merry dose, meeting with the antidote of a sound judgment, perhaps may have no operation at all: with such a one the wit of the most ingenious satyr will only by its intrinsick truth or value gain upon his approbation; or if it be worth an answer, a printed falshood may possibly be confounded by printed proofs against it. but against contempt and scandal, heighten'd and colour'd by the skill of an _actor_ ludicrously infusing it into a multitude, there is no immediate defence to be made or equal reparation to be had for it; for it would be but a poor satisfaction at last, after lying long patient under the injury, that time only is to shew (which would probably be the case) that the author of it was a desperate indigent that did it for bread. how much less dangerous or offensive, then, is the _written_ than the _acted_ scandal? the impression the comedian gives to it is a kind of double stamp upon the poet's paper, that raises it to ten times the intrinsick value. might we not strengthen this argument, too, even by the eloquence that seem'd to have opposed this law? i will say for my self, at least, that when i came to read the printed arguments against it, i could scarce believe they were the same that had amaz'd and raised such admiration in me when they had the advantage of a lively elocution, and of that grace and spirit which gave strength and lustre to them in the delivery! upon the whole; if the stage ought ever to have been reform'd; if to place a power _somewhere_ of restraining its immoralities was not inconsistent with the liberties of a civiliz'd people (neither of which, sure, any moral man of sense can dispute) might it not have shewn a spirit too poorly prejudiced, to have rejected so rational a law only because the honour and office of a minister might happen, in some small measure, to be protected by it.[ ] but however little weight there may be in the observations i have made upon it, i shall, for my own part, always think them just; unless i should live to see (which i do not expect) some future set of upright ministers use their utmost endeavours to repeal it. and now we have seen the consequence of what many people are apt to contend for, variety of playhouses! how was it possible so many could honestly subsist on what was fit to be seen? their extraordinary number, of course, reduc'd them to live upon the gratification of such hearers as they knew would be best pleased with publick offence; and publick offence, of what kind soever, will always be a good reason for making laws to restrain it. to conclude, let us now consider this law in a quite different light; let us leave the political part of it quite out of the question; what advantage could either the spectators of plays or the masters of play-houses have gain'd by its having never been made? how could the same stock of plays supply four theatres, which (without such additional entertainments as a nation of common sense ought to be ashamed of) could not well support two? satiety must have been the natural consequence of the same plays being twice as often repeated as now they need be; and satiety puts an end to all tastes that the mind of man can delight in. had therefore this law been made seven years ago, i should not have parted with my share in the patent under a thousand pounds more than i received for it[ ]----so that, as far as i am able to judge, both the publick as spectators, and the patentees as undertakers, are, or might be, in a way of being better entertain'd and more considerable gainers by it. i now return to the state of the stage, where i left it, about the year , from whence this pursuit of its immoralities has led me farther than i first design'd to have follow'd it. chapter ix. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _a small apology for writing on. the different state of the two companies. _wilks_ invited over from _dublin_. _estcourt_, from the same stage, the winter following. mrs. _oldfield_'s first admission to the _theatre-royal_. her character. the great theatre in the _hay-market_ built for _betterton_'s company. it answers not their expectation. some observations upon it. a theatrical state secret._ i now begin to doubt that the _gayeté du coeur_ in which i first undertook this work may have drawn me into a more laborious amusement than i shall know how to away with: for though i cannot say i have yet jaded my vanity, it is not impossible but by this time the most candid of my readers may want a little breath; especially when they consider that all this load i have heap'd upon their patience contains but seven years of the forty three i pass'd upon the stage, the history of which period i have enjoyn'd my self to transmit to the judgment (or oblivion) of posterity.[ ] however, even my dulness will find somebody to do it right; if my reader is an ill-natur'd one, he will be as much pleased to find me a dunce in my old age as possibly he may have been to prove me a brisk blockhead in my youth: but if he has no gall to gratify, and would (for his simple amusement) as well know how the playhouses went on forty years ago as how they do now, i will honestly tell him the rest of my story as well as i can. lest therefore the frequent digressions that have broke in upon it may have entangled his memory, i must beg leave just to throw together the heads of what i have already given him, that he may again recover the clue of my discourse. let him then remember, from the year to ,[ ] the various fortune of the (then) king's and duke's two famous companies; their being reduced to one united; the distinct characters i have given of thirteen actors, which in the year were the most famous then remaining of them; the cause of their being again divided in , and the consequences of that division 'till ; from whence i shall lead them to our second union in----hold! let me see----ay, it was in that memorable year when the two kingdoms of _england_ and _scotland_ were made one. and i remember a particular that confirms me i am right in my chronology; for the play of _hamlet_ being acted soon after, _estcourt_, who then took upon him to say any thing, added a fourth line to _shakespear_'s prologue to the play, in that play which originally consisted but of three, but _estcourt_ made it run thus: _for us, and for our tragedy, here stooping to your clemency,_ [this being a year of unity,] _we beg your hearing patiently._[ ] this new chronological line coming unexpectedly upon the audience, was received with applause, tho' several grave faces look'd a little out of humour at it. however, by this fact, it is plain our theatrical union happen'd in .[ ] but to speak of it in its place i must go a little back again. from to this union both companies went on without any memorable change in their affairs, unless it were that _betterton_'s people (however good in their kind) were most of them too far advanc'd in years to mend; and tho' we in _drury-lane_ were too young to be excellent, we were not too old to be better. but what will not satiety depreciate? for though i must own and avow that in our highest prosperity i always thought we were greatly their inferiors; yet, by our good fortune of being seen in quite new lights, which several new-written plays had shewn us in, we now began to make a considerable stand against them. one good new play to a rising company is of inconceivable value. in _oroonoko_[ ] (and why may i not name another, tho' it be my own?) in _love's last shift_, and in the sequel of it, the _relapse_, several of our people shew'd themselves in a new style of acting, in which nature had not as yet been seen. i cannot here forget a misfortune that befel our society about this time, by the loss of a young actor, _hildebrand horden_,[ ] who was kill'd at the bar of the _rose-tavern_,[ ] in a frivolous, rash, accidental quarrel; for which a late resident at _venice_, colonel _burgess_, and several other persons of distinction, took their tryals, and were acquitted. this young man had almost every natural gift that could promise an excellent actor; he had besides a good deal of table-wit and humour, with a handsome person, and was every day rising into publick favour. before he was bury'd, it was observable that two or three days together several of the fair sex, well dress'd, came in masks (then frequently worn) and some in their own coaches, to visit this theatrical heroe in his shrowd. he was the elder son of dr. _horden_, minister of _twickenham_, in _middlesex_. but this misfortune was soon repair'd by the return of _wilks_ from _dublin_ (who upon this young man's death was sent for over) and liv'd long enough among us to enjoy that approbation from which the other was so unhappily cut off. the winter following,[ ] _estcourt_, the famous mimick, of whom i have already spoken, had the same invitation from _ireland_, where he had commenc'd actor: his first part here, at the _theatre-royal_, was the _spanish friar_, in which, tho' he had remembred every look and motion of the late _tony leigh_ so far as to put the spectator very much in mind of him, yet it was visible through the whole, notwithstanding his exactness in the out-lines, the true spirit that was to fill up the figure was not the same, but unskilfully dawb'd on, like a child's painting upon the face of a _metzotinto_: it was too plain to the judicious that the conception was not his own, but imprinted in his memory by another, of whom he only presented a dead likeness.[ ] but these were defects not so obvious to common spectators; no wonder, therefore, if by his being much sought after in private companies, he met with a sort of indulgence, not to say partiality, for what he sometimes did upon the stage. in the year , mrs. _oldfield_ was first taken into the house, where she remain'd about a twelvemonth almost a mute[ ] and unheeded, 'till sir _john vanbrugh_, who first recommended her, gave her the part of _alinda_ in the _pilgrim_ revis'd. this gentle character happily became that want of confidence which is inseparable from young beginners, who, without it, seldom arrive to any excellence: notwithstanding, i own i was then so far deceiv'd in my opinion of her, that i thought she had little more than her person that appear'd necessary to the forming a good actress; for she set out with so extraordinary a diffidence, that it kept her too despondingly down to a formal, plain (not to say) flat manner of speaking. nor could the silver tone of her voice 'till after some time incline my ear to any hope in her favour. but publick approbation is the warm weather of a theatrical plant, which will soon bring it forward to whatever perfection nature has design'd it. however, mrs. _oldfield_ (perhaps for want of fresh parts) seem'd to come but slowly forward 'till the year .[ ] our company that summer acted at the _bath_ during the residence of queen _anne_ at that place. at that time it happen'd that mrs. _verbruggen_, by reason of her last sickness (of which she some few months after dy'd) was left in _london_; and though most of her parts were, of course, to be dispos'd of, yet so earnest was the female scramble for them, that only one of them fell to the share of mrs. _oldfield_, that of _leonora_ in sir _courtly nice_; a character of good plain sense, but not over elegantly written. it was in this part mrs. _oldfield_ surpris'd me into an opinion of her having all the innate powers of a good actress, though they were yet but in the bloom of what they promis'd. before she had acted this part i had so cold an expectation from her abilities, that she could scarce prevail with me to rehearse with her the scenes she was chiefly concern'd in with sir _courtly_, which i then acted. however, we ran them over with a mutual inadvertency of one another. i seem'd careless, as concluding that any assistance i could give her would be to little or no purpose; and she mutter'd out her words in a sort of mifty[ ] manner at my low opinion of her. but when the play came to be acted, she had a just occasion to triumph over the error of my judgment, by the (almost) amazement that her unexpected performance awak'd me to; so forward and sudden a step into nature i had never seen; and what made her performance more valuable was, that i knew it all proceeded from her own understanding, untaught and unassisted by any one more experienc'd actor.[ ] perhaps it may not be unacceptable, if i enlarge a little more upon the theatrical character of so memorable an actress.[ ] [illustration: sir john vanbrugh.] though this part of _leonora_ in itself was of so little value, that when she got more into esteem it was one of the several she gave away to inferior actresses; yet it was the first (as i have observ'd) that corrected my judgment of her, and confirm'd me in a strong belief that she could not fail in very little time of being what she was afterwards allow'd to be, the foremost ornament of our theatre. upon this unexpected sally, then, of the power and disposition of so unforeseen an actress, it was that i again took up the two first acts of the _careless husband_, which i had written the summer before, and had thrown aside in despair of having justice done to the character of lady _betty modish_ by any one woman then among us; mrs. _verbruggen_ being now in a very declining state of health, and mrs. _bracegirdle_ out of my reach and engag'd in another company: but, as i have said, mrs. _oldfield_ having thrown out such new proffers of a genius, i was no longer at a loss for support; my doubts were dispell'd, and i had now a new call to finish it: accordingly, the _careless husband_[ ] took its fate upon the stage the winter following, in . whatever favourable reception this comedy has met with from the publick, it would be unjust in me not to place a large share of it to the account of mrs. _oldfield_; not only from the uncommon excellence of her action, but even from her personal manner of conversing. there are many sentiments in the character of lady _betty modish_ that i may almost say were originally her own, or only dress'd with a little more care than when they negligently fell from her lively humour: had her birth plac'd her in a higher rank of life, she had certainly appear'd in reality what in this play she only excellently acted, an agreeably gay woman of quality a little too conscious of her natural attractions. i have often seen her in private societies, where women of the best rank might have borrow'd some part of her behaviour without the least diminution of their sense or dignity. and this very morning, where i am now writing at the _bath_, _november_ , , the same words were said of her by a lady of condition, whose better judgment of her personal merit in that light has embolden'd me to repeat them. after her success in this character of higher life, all that nature had given her of the actress seem'd to have risen to its full perfection: but the variety of her power could not be known 'till she was seen in variety of characters; which, as fast as they fell to her, she equally excell'd in. authors had much more from her performance than they had reason to hope for from what they had written for her; and none had less than another, but as their genius in the parts they allotted her was more or less elevated. in the wearing of her person she was particularly fortunate; her figure was always improving to her thirty-sixth year; but her excellence in acting was never at a stand: and the last new character she shone in (_lady townly_) was a proof that she was still able to do more, if more could have been done for _her_.[ ] she had one mark of good sense, rarely known in any actor of either sex but herself. i have observ'd several, with promising dispositions, very desirous of instruction at their first setting out; but no sooner had they found their least account in it, than they were as desirous of being left to their own capacity, which they then thought would be disgrac'd by their seeming to want any farther assistance. but this was not mrs. _oldfield_'s way of thinking; for, to the last year of her life, she never undertook any part she lik'd without being importunately desirous of having all the helps in it that another could possibly give her. by knowing so much herself, she found how much more there was of nature yet needful to be known. yet it was a hard matter to give her any hint that she was not able to take or improve. with all this merit she was tractable and less presuming in her station than several that had not half her pretensions to be troublesome: but she lost nothing by her easy conduct; she had every thing she ask'd, which she took care should be always reasonable, because she hated as much to be _grudg'd_ as _deny'd_ a civility. upon her extraordinary action in the _provok'd husband_,[ ] the menagers made her a present of fifty guineas more than her agreement, which never was more than a verbal one; for they knew she was above deserting them to engage upon any other stage, and she was conscious they would never think it their interest to give her cause of complaint. in the last two months of her illness, when she was no longer able to assist them, she declin'd receiving her sallary, tho' by her agreement she was entitled to it. upon the whole she was, to the last scene she acted, the delight of her spectators: why then may we not close her character with the same indulgence with which _horace_ speaks of a commendable poem: _ubi plura nitent_--_non ego paucis offendar maculis_----[ ] _where in the whole such various beauties shine, 'twere idle upon errors to refine._[ ] what more might be said of her as an actress may be found in the preface to the _provok'd husband_, to which i refer the reader.[ ] with the acquisition, then, of so advanc'd a comedian as mrs. _oldfield_, and the addition of one so much in favour as _wilks_, and by the visible improvement of our other actors, as _penkethman_, _johnson_, _bullock_, and i think i may venture to name myself in the number (but in what rank i leave to the judgment of those who have been my spectators) the reputation of our company began to get ground; mrs. _oldfield_ and mr. _wilks_, by their frequently playing against one another in our best comedies, very happily supported that humour and vivacity which is so peculiar to our _english_ stage. the _french_, our only modern competitors, seldom give us their lovers in such various lights: in their comedies (however lively a people they are by nature) their lovers are generally constant, simple sighers, both of a mind, and equally distress'd about the difficulties of their coming together; which naturally makes their conversation so serious that they are seldom good company to their auditors: and tho' i allow them many other beauties of which we are too negligent, yet our variety of humour has excellencies that all their valuable observance of rules have never yet attain'd to. by these advantages, then, we began to have an equal share of the politer sort of spectators, who, for several years, could not allow our company to stand in any comparison with the other. but theatrical favour, like publick commerce, will sometimes deceive the best judgments by an unaccountable change of its channel; the best commodities are not always known to meet with the best markets. to this decline of the old company many accidents might contribute; as the too distant situation of their theatre, or their want of a better, for it was not then in the condition it now is, but small, and poorly fitted up within the walls of a tennis _quaree_ court, which is of the lesser sort.[ ] _booth_, who was then a young actor among them, has often told me of the difficulties _betterton_ then labour'd under and complain'd of: how impracticable he found it to keep their body to that common order which was necessary for their support;[ ] of their relying too much upon their intrinsick merit; and though but few of them were young even when they first became their own masters, yet they were all now ten years older, and consequently more liable to fall into an inactive negligence, or were only separately diligent for themselves in the sole regard of their benefit-plays; which several of their principals knew, at worst, would raise them contributions that would more than tolerably subsist them for the current year. but as these were too precarious expedients to be always depended upon, and brought in nothing to the general support of the numbers who were at sallaries under them, they were reduc'd to have recourse to foreign novelties; _l'abbeè_, _balon_, and mademoiselle _subligny_,[ ] three of the then most famous dancers of the _french_ opera, were, at several times, brought over at extraordinary rates, to revive that sickly appetite which plain sense and nature had satiated.[ ] but alas! there was no recovering to a sound constitution by those mere costly cordials; the novelty of a dance was but of a short duration, and perhaps hurtful in its consequence; for it made a play without a dance less endur'd than it had been before, when such dancing was not to be had. but perhaps their exhibiting these novelties might be owing to the success we had met with in our more barbarous introducing of _french_ mimicks and tumblers the year before; of which mr. _rowe_ thus complains in his prologue to one of his first plays: _must_ shakespear, fletcher, _and laborious_ ben, _be left for_ scaramouch _and_ harlequin?[ ] while the crowd, therefore, so fluctuated from one house to another as their eyes were more or less regaled than their ears, it could not be a question much in debate which had the better actors; the merit of either seem'd to be of little moment; and the complaint in the foregoing lines, tho' it might be just for a time, could not be a just one for ever, because the best play that ever was writ may tire by being too often repeated, a misfortune naturally attending the obligation to play every day; not that whenever such satiety commences it will be any proof of the play's being a bad one, or of its being ill acted. in a word, satiety is seldom enough consider'd by either criticks, spectators, or actors, as the true, not to say just cause of declining audiences to the most rational entertainments: and tho' i cannot say i ever saw a good new play not attended with due encouragement, yet to keep a theatre daily open without sometimes giving the publick a bad old one, is more than i doubt the wit of human writers or excellence of actors will ever be able to accomplish. and as both authors and comedians may have often succeeded where a sound judgment would have condemn'd them, it might puzzle the nicest critick living to prove in what sort of excellence the true value of either consisted: for if their merit were to be measur'd by the full houses they may have brought; if the judgment of the crowd were infallible; i am afraid we shall be reduc'd to allow that the _beggars opera_ was the best-written play, and sir _harry wildair_[ ] (as _wilks_ play'd it) was the best acted part, that ever our _english_ theatre had to boast of. that critick, indeed, must be rigid to a folly that would deny either of them their due praise, when they severally drew such numbers after them; all their hearers could not be mistaken; and yet, if they were all in the right, what sort of fame will remain to those celebrated authors and actors that had so long and deservedly been admired before these were in being. the only distinction i shall make between them is, that to write or act like the authors or actors of the latter end of the last century, i am of opinion will be found a far better pretence to success than to imitate these who have been so crowded to in the beginning of this. all i would infer from this explanation is, that tho' we had then the better audiences, and might have more of the young world on our side, yet this was no sure proof that the other company were not, in the truth of action, greatly our superiors. these elder actors, then, besides the disadvantages i have mention'd, having only the fewer true judges to admire them, naturally wanted the support of the crowd whose taste was to be pleased at a cheaper rate and with coarser fare. to recover them, therefore, to their due estimation, a new project was form'd of building them a stately theatre in the _hay-market_,[ ] by sir _john vanbrugh_, for which he raised a subscription of thirty persons of quality, at one hundred pounds each, in consideration whereof every subscriber, for his own life, was to be admitted to whatever entertainments should be publickly perform'd there, without farther payment for his entrance. of this theatre i saw the first stone laid, on which was inscrib'd _the little whig_, in honour to a lady of extraordinary beauty, then the celebrated toast and pride of that party.[ ] in the year ,[ ] when this house was finish'd, _betterton_ and his co-partners dissolved their own agreement, and threw themselves under the direction of sir _john vanbrugh_ and mr. _congreve_, imagining, perhaps, that the conduct of two such eminent authors might give a more prosperous turn to their condition; that the plays it would now be their interest to write for them would soon recover the town to a true taste, and be an advantage that no other company could hope for; that in the interim, till such plays could be written, the grandeur of their house, as it was a new spectacle, might allure the crowd to support them: but if these were their views, we shall see that their dependence upon them was too sanguine. as to their prospect of new plays, i doubt it was not enough consider'd that good ones were plants of a slow growth; and tho' sir _john vanbrugh_ had a very quick pen, yet mr. _congreve_ was too judicious a writer to let any thing come hastily out of his hands: as to their other dependence, the house, they had not yet discover'd that almost every proper quality and convenience of a good theatre had been sacrificed or neglected to shew the spectator a vast triumphal piece of architecture! and that the best play, for the reasons i am going to offer, could not but be under great disadvantages, and be less capable of delighting the auditor here than it could have been in the plain theatre they came from. for what could their vast columns, their gilded cornices, their immoderate high roofs avail, when scarce one word in ten could be distinctly heard in it? nor had it then the form it now stands in, which necessity, two or three years after, reduced it to: at the first opening it, the flat ceiling that is now over the orchestre was then a semi-oval arch that sprung fifteen feet higher from above the cornice: the ceiling over the pit, too, was still more raised, being one level line from the highest back part of the upper gallery to the front of the stage: the front-boxes were a continued semicircle to the bare walls of the house on each side: this extraordinary and superfluous space occasion'd such an undulation from the voice of every actor, that generally what they said sounded like the gabbling of so many people in the lofty isles in a cathedral--the tone of a trumpet, or the swell of an eunuch's holding note, 'tis true, might be sweeten'd by it, but the articulate sounds of a speaking voice were drown'd by the hollow reverberations of one word upon another. to this inconvenience, why may we not add that of its situation; for at that time it had not the advantage of almost a large city, which has since been built in its neighbourhood: those costly spaces of _hanover_, _grosvenor_, and _cavendish_ squares, with the many and great adjacent streets about them, were then all but so many green fields of pasture, from whence they could draw little or no sustenance, unless it were that of a milk-diet. the city, the inns of court, and the middle part of the town, which were the most constant support of a theatre, and chiefly to be relied on, were now too far out of the reach of an easy walk, and coach-hire is often too hard a tax upon the pit and gallery.[ ] but from the vast increase of the buildings i have mention'd, the situation of that theatre has since that time received considerable advantages; a new world of people of condition are nearer to it than formerly, and i am of opinion that if the auditory part were a little more reduced to the model of that in _drury-lane_, an excellent company of actors would now find a better account in it than in any other house in this populous city.[ ] let me not be mistaken, i say an excellent company, and such as might be able to do justice to the best of plays, and throw out those latent beauties in them which only excellent actors can discover and give life to. if such a company were now there, they would meet with a quite different set of auditors than other theatres have lately been used to: polite hearers would be content with polite entertainments; and i remember the time when plays, without the aid of farce or pantomime, were as decently attended as opera's or private assemblies, where a noisy sloven would have past his time as uneasily in a front-box as in a drawing-room; when a hat upon a man's head there would have been look'd upon as a sure mark of a brute or a booby: but of all this i have seen, too, the reverse, where in the presence of ladies at a play common civility has been set at defiance, and the privilege of being a rude clown, even to a nusance, has in a manner been demanded as one of the rights of _english_ liberty: now, though i grant that liberty is so precious a jewel that we ought not to suffer the least ray of its lustre to be diminish'd, yet methinks the liberty of seeing a play in quiet has as laudable a claim to protection as the privilege of not suffering you to do it has to impunity. but since we are so happy as not to have a certain power among us, which in another country is call'd the _police_, let us rather bear this insult than buy its remedy at too dear a rate; and let it be the punishment of such wrong-headed savages, that they never will or can know the true value of that liberty which they so stupidly abuse: such vulgar minds possess their liberty as profligate husbands do fine wives, only to disgrace them. in a word, when liberty boils over, such is the scum of it. but to our new erected theatre. not long before this time the _italian_ opera began first to steal into _england_,[ ] but in as rude a disguise and unlike it self as possible; in a lame, hobling translation into our own language, with false quantities, or metre out of measure to its original notes, sung by our own unskilful voices, with graces misapply'd to almost every sentiment, and with action lifeless and unmeaning through every character: the first _italian_ performer that made any distinguish'd figure in it was _valentini_, a true sensible singer at that time, but of a throat too weak to sustain those melodious warblings for which the fairer sex have since idoliz'd his successors. however, this defect was so well supply'd by his action, that his hearers bore with the absurdity of his singing his first part of _turnus_ in _camilla_ all in _italian_, while every other character was sung and recited to him in _english_.[ ] this i have mention'd to shew not only our tramontane taste, but that the crowded audiences which follow'd it to _drury-lane_ might be another occasion of their growing thinner in _lincolns-inn-fields_. to strike in, therefore, with this prevailing novelty, sir _john vanbrugh_ and mr. _congreve_ open'd their new _hay-market theatre_ with a translated opera to _italian_ musick, called the _triumph of love_, but this not having in it the charms of _camilla_, either from the inequality of the musick or voices, had but a cold reception, being perform'd but three days, and those not crowded. immediately upon the failure of this _opera_, sir _john vanbrugh_ produced his comedy call'd the _confederacy_,[ ] taken (but greatly improv'd) from the _bourgeois à la mode_ of _dancour_: though the fate of this play was something better, yet i thought it was not equal to its merit:[ ] for it is written with an uncommon vein of wit and humour; which confirms me in my former observation, that the difficulty of hearing distinctly in that then wide theatre was no small impediment to the applause that might have followed the same actors in it upon every other stage; and indeed every play acted there before the house was alter'd seemed to suffer from the same inconvenience: in a word, the prospect of profits from this theatre was so very barren, that mr. _congreve_ in a few months gave up his share and interest in the government of it wholly to sir _john vanbrugh_.[ ] but sir _john_, being sole proprietor of the house, was at all events oblig'd to do his utmost to support it. as he had a happier talent of throwing the _english_ spirit into his translation of _french_ plays than any former author who had borrowed from them, he in the same season gave the publick three more of that kind, call'd the _cuckold in conceit_, from the _cocu imaginaire_ of _moliere_;[ ] _squire trelooby_, from his _monsieur de pourceaugnac_, and the _mistake_, from the _dépit amoureux_ of the same author.[ ] yet all these, however well executed, came to the ear in the same undistinguish'd utterance by which almost all their plays had equally suffered: for what few could plainly hear, it was not likely a great many could applaud. it must farther be consider'd, too, that this company were not now what they had been when they first revolted from the patentees in _drury-lane_, and became their own masters in _lincolns-inn-fields_. several of them, excellent in their different talents, were now dead; as _smith_, _kynaston_, _sandford_, and _leigh_: mrs. _betterton_ and _underhil_ being, at this time, also superannuated pensioners whose places were generally but ill supply'd: nor could it be expected that _betterton_ himself, at past seventy, could retain his former force and spirit; though he was yet far distant from any competitor. thus, then, were these remains of the best set of actors that i believe were ever known at once in _england_, by time, death, and the satiety of their hearers, mould'ring to decay. it was now the town-talk that nothing but a union of the two companies could recover the stage to its former reputation,[ ] which opinion was certainly true: one would have thought, too, that the patentee of _drury-lane_ could not have fail'd to close with it, he being then on the prosperous side of the question, having no relief to ask for himself, and little more to do in the matter than to consider what he might safely grant: but it seems this was not his way of counting; he had other persons who had great claims to shares in the profits of this stage, which profits, by a union, he foresaw would be too visible to be doubted of, and might raise up a new spirit in those adventurers to revive their suits at law with him; for he had led them a chace in chancery several years,[ ] and when they had driven him into a contempt of that court, he conjur'd up a spirit, in the shape of six and eight pence a-day, that constantly struck the tipstaff blind whenever he came near him: he knew the intrinsick value of delay, and was resolv'd to stick to it as the surest way to give the plaintiffs enough on't. and by this expedient our good master had long walk'd about at his leisure, cool and contented as a fox when the hounds were drawn off and gone home from him. but whether i am right or not in my conjectures, certain it is that this close master of _drury-lane_ had no inclination to a union, as will appear by the sequel.[ ] sir _john vanbrugh_ knew, too, that to make a union worth his while he must not seem too hasty for it; he therefore found himself under a necessity, in the mean time, of letting his whole theatrical farm to some industrious tenant that might put it into better condition. this is that crisis, as i observed in the eighth chapter, when the royal licence for acting plays, _&c._ was judg'd of so little value as not to have one suitor for it. at this time, then, the master of _drury-lane_ happen'd to have a sort of primier agent in his stage-affairs, that seem'd in appearance as much to govern the master as the master himself did to govern his actors: but this person was under no stipulation or sallary for the service he render'd, but had gradually wrought himself into the master's extraordinary confidence and trust, from an habitual intimacy, a cheerful humour, and an indefatigable zeal for his interest. if i should farther say, that this person has been well known in almost every metropolis in _europe_; that few private men have, with so little reproach, run through more various turns of fortune; that, on the wrong side of three-score, he has yet the open spirit of a hale young fellow of five and twenty; that though he still chuses to speak what he thinks to his best friends with an undisguis'd freedom, he is, notwithstanding, acceptable to many persons of the first rank and condition; that any one of them (provided he likes them) may now send him, for their service, to _constantinople_ at half a day's warning; that time has not yet been able to make a visible change in any part of him but the colour of his hair, from a fierce coal-black to that of a milder milk-white: when i have taken this liberty with him, methinks it cannot be taking a much greater if i at once should tell you that this person was mr. _owen swiney_,[ ] and that it was to him sir _john vanbrugh_, in this exigence of his theatrical affairs, made an offer of his actors, under such agreements of sallary as might be made with them; and of his house, cloaths, and scenes, with the queen's license to employ them, upon payment of only the casual rent of five pounds upon every acting day, and not to exceed _l._ in the year. of this proposal mr. _swiney_ desir'd a day or two to consider; for, however he might like it, he would not meddle in any sort without the consent and approbation of his friend and patron, the master of _drury lane_. having given the reasons why this patentee was averse to a union, it may now seem less a wonder why he immediately consented that _swiney_ should take the _hay-market_ house, _&c._ and continue that company to act against him; but the real truth was, that he had a mind both companies should be clandestinely under one and the same interest, and yet in so loose a manner that he might declare his verbal agreement with _swiney_ good, or null and void, as he might best find his account in either. what flatter'd him that he had this wholesome project, and _swiney_ to execute it, both in his power, was that at this time _swiney_ happen'd to stand in his books debtor to cash upwards of two hundred pounds: but here, we shall find, he over-rated his security. however, _swiney_ as yet follow'd his orders; he took the _hay-market_ theatre, and had, farther, the private consent of the patentee to take such of his actors from _drury-lane_ as either from inclination or discontent, might be willing to come over to him in the _hay-market_. the only one he made an exception of, was myself: for tho' he chiefly depended upon his singers and dancers,[ ] he said it would be necessary to keep some one tolerable actor with him, that might enable him to set those machines a going. under this limitation of not entertaining me, _swiney_ seem'd to acquiesce 'till after he had open'd with the so recruited company in the _hay-market_: the actors that came to him from _drury-lane_ were _wilks_, _estcourt_,[ ] _mills_, _keen_,[ ] _johnson_, _bullock_, mrs. _oldfield_, mrs. _rogers_, and some few others of less note: but i must here let you know that this project was form'd and put in execution all in very few days, in the summer-season, when no theatre was open. to all which i was entirely a stranger, being at this time at a gentleman's house in _gloucestershire_, scribbling, if i mistake not, the _wife's resentment_.[ ] the first word i heard of this transaction was by a letter from _swiney_, inviting me to make one in the _hay-market_ company, whom he hop'd i could not but now think the stronger party. but i confess i was not a little alarm'd at this revolution: for i consider'd, that i knew of no visible fund to support these actors but their own industry; that all his recruits from _drury-lane_ would want new cloathing; and that the warmest industry would be always labouring up hill under so necessary an expence, so bad a situation, and so inconvenient a theatre. i was always of opinion, too, that in changing sides, in most conditions, there generally were discovered more unforeseen inconveniencies than visible advantages; and that at worst there would always some sort of merit remain with fidelity, tho' unsuccessful. upon these considerations i was only thankful for the offers made me from the _hay-market_, without accepting them, and soon after came to town towards the usual time of their beginning to act, to offer my service to our old master. but i found our company so thinn'd that it was almost impracticable to bring any one tolerable play upon the stage.[ ] when i ask'd him where were his actors, and in what manner he intended to proceed? he reply'd, _don't you trouble yourself, come along, and i'll shew you_. he then led me about all the by-places in the house, and shew'd me fifty little back-doors, dark closets, and narrow passages; in alterations and contrivances of which kind he had busied his head most part of the vacation; for he was scarce ever without some notable joyner, or a bricklayer extraordinary, in pay, for twenty years. and there are so many odd obscure places about a theatre, that his genius in nook-building was never out of employment; nor could the most vain-headed author be more deaf to an interruption in reciting his works, than our wise master was while entertaining me with the improvements he had made in his invisible architecture; all which, without thinking any one part of it necessary, tho' i seem'd to approve, i could not help now and then breaking in upon his delight with the impertinent question of----_but, master, where are your actors?_ but it seems i had taken a wrong time for this sort of enquiry; his head was full of matters of more moment, and (as you find) i was to come another time for an answer: a very hopeful condition i found myself in, under the conduct of so profound a vertuoso and so considerate a master! but to speak of him seriously, and to account for this disregard to his actors, his notion was that singing and dancing, or any sort of exotick entertainments, would make an ordinary company of actors too hard for the best set who had only plain plays to subsist on. now, though i am afraid too much might be said in favour of this opinion, yet i thought he laid more stress upon that sort of merit than it would bear; as i therefore found myself of so little value with him, i could not help setting a little more upon myself, and was resolv'd to come to a short explanation with him. i told him i came to serve him at a time when many of his best actors had deserted him; that he might now have the refusal of me; but i could not afford to carry the compliment so far as to lessen my income by it; that i therefore expected either my casual pay to be advanced, or the payment of my former sallary made certain for as many days as we had acted the year before.--no, he was not willing to alter his former method; but i might chuse whatever parts i had a mind to act of theirs who had left him. when i found him, as i thought, so insensible or impregnable, i look'd gravely in his face, and told him--he knew upon what terms i was willing to serve him, and took my leave. by this time the _hay-market_ company had begun acting to audiences something better than usual, and were all paid their full sallaries, a blessing they had not felt in some years in either house before. upon this success _swiney_ press'd the patentee to execute the articles they had as yet only verbally agreed on, which were in substance, that _swiney_ should take the _hay-market_ house in his own name, and have what actors he thought necessary from _drury-lane_, and after all payments punctually made, the profits should be equally divided between these two undertakers. but soft and fair! rashness was a fault that had never yet been imputed to the patentee; certain payments were methods he had not of a long, long time been us'd to; that point still wanted time for consideration. but _swiney_ was as hasty as the other was slow, and was resolv'd to know what he had to trust to before they parted; and to keep him the closer to his bargain, he stood upon his right of having _me_ added to that company if i was willing to come into it. but this was a point as absolutely refus'd on one side as insisted on on the other. in this contest high words were exchang'd on both sides, 'till, in the end, this their last private meeting came to an open rupture: but before it was publickly known, _swiney_, by fairly letting me into the whole transaction, took effectual means to secure me in his interest. when the mystery of the patentee's indifference to me was unfolded, and that his slighting me was owing to the security he rely'd on of _swiney_'s not daring to engage me, i could have no further debate with my self which side of the question i should adhere to. to conclude, i agreed, in two words, to act with _swiney_,[ ] and from this time every change that happen'd in the theatrical government was a nearer step to that twenty years of prosperity which actors, under the menagement of actors, not long afterwards enjoy'd. what was the immediate consequence of this last desertion from _drury-lane_ shall be the subject of another chapter. index. abbé, monsieur l', a french dancer, i. xxvii., i. . acting, excellence of, about, , i. xlviii.; cibber's views on versatility in, i. . actors, their names not given in old plays, i. xxv.; join charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; the prejudice against, i. - ; taken into society, i. ; their delight in applause, i. ; entitled gentlemen of the great chamber, i. ; must be born, not made, i. ; their private characters influence audiences, i. - ; their arrangement with swiney in , ii. ; refused christian burial by the romish church, ii. ; badly paid, ii. ; dearth of young, ii. . ---- the old, played secretly during the commonwealth, i. xxx.; arrested for playing, i. xxx.; bribed officers of guard to let them play, i. xxx. actress (miss santlow), insulted, i. . actresses, first english, i. , _note_ , i. , i. ; who were charles ii.'s mistresses, i. ; difficulty of getting good, ii. . addison, joseph, i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; pope's attack on, i. ; his opinion of wilks's hamlet, i. ; his view regarding humour in tragedy, i. ; his play of "cato," ii. ; its great success, ii. - ; presents the profits of "cato" to the managers, ii. ; its success at oxford, ii. ; his "cato" quoted, ii. , _note_ . admission to theatres, cheap, before , i. xxvii. adventurers--subscribers to the building of dorset garden theatre, i. , _note_ ; their interest in the drury lane patent, ii. , _note_ ; rich uses them against brett, ii. ; names of the principal, ii. , _note_ . agreement preliminary to the union of , ii. , ii. . "albion queens, the," ii. , _note_ . "alexander the great," by lee, i. . allen, william, an eminent actor, i. xxvi.; a major in charles i.'s army, i. xxix. alleyn, edward, caused the fortune theatre to be built for his company, i. xxviii.; endowed dulwich college, i. xxviii.; ben jonson's eulogium of, i. xxviii. "amphytrion," by dryden, i. . angel, a comedian, ii. . anne, queen (while princess of denmark), deserts her father, james ii., i. , i. ; pensions mrs. betterton, i. ; at the play, i. ; forbids audience on the stage, i. , _note_ ; her death, ii. . applause, i. ; the pleasure of, i. . archer, william, his investigations regarding the truth of diderot's "paradoxe sur le comédien," i. , _note_ ; his "about the theatre," i. , _note_ . aristophanes, referred to, i. . arlington, earl of, his death, i. , _note_ . arthur, son of henry vii., pageants at his marriage, i. xliii. ashbury, joseph, the dublin patentee, i. , ii. ; engages mrs. charlotte butler, i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ . aston, anthony, quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. ; on his own acting of fondlewife, ii. ; his "brief supplement" to cibber's lives of his contemporaries, reprint of, ii. ; his description of mrs. barry, ii. ; betterton, ii. ; mrs. bracegirdle, ii. ; dogget, ii. ; haines, ii. ; mrs. mountfort, ii. ; sandford, ii. ; underhill, ii. ; verbruggen, ii. . audience on the stage, i. , ii. . audiences rule the stage for good or evil, i. ; authors discouraged by their severity, i. . authors abusing managers and actors, ii. ; managers' troubles with, ii. ; cibber censured for his treatment of, ii. , _note_ . bacon, lord, quoted, i. xlv. baddeley, robert, the last actor who wore the uniform of their majesties' servants, i. , _note_ . balon, mons., a french dancer, i. . banks, john, the excellence of his plots, ii. ; his "unhappy favourite," ii. . baron, michael (french actor), i. . barry, mrs. elizabeth, i. , i. , _note_ , i. , i. , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her great genius, i. ; dryden's compliment to, i. ; her unpromising commencement as an actress, i. ; her power of exciting pity, i. ; her dignity and fire, i. ; the first performer who had a benefit, i. ; her death, i. ; her retirement, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . beaumont and fletcher's "wild-goose chase," published for lowin and taylor's benefit, i. xxxi. beeston, christopher, ii. . "beggar's opera," i. , i. . behn, mrs. aphra, i. . bellchambers, edmund, his edition of cibber's "apology" quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his memoir of mrs. barry, ii. ; betterton, ii. ; mrs. betterton, ii. ; w. bullock, ii. ; estcourt, ii. ; goodman, ii. ; hart, ii. ; b. johnson, ii. ; keen, ii. ; kynaston, ii. ; anthony leigh, ii. ; john mills, ii. ; mohun, ii. ; mountfort, ii. ; james nokes, ii. ; mrs. oldfield, ii. ; pinkethman, ii. ; mrs. porter, ii. ; powell, ii. ; sandford, ii. : smith, ii. ; underhill, ii. ; verbruggen, ii. ; joseph williams, ii. . benefits, their origin, i. ; mrs. elizabeth barry the first performer to whom granted, i. , ii. ; part confiscated by rich, ii. ; rich ordered to refund the part confiscated, ii. ; amounts realized by principal actors, ii. , _note_ . betterton, mrs. mary, i. , i. , ii. ; said to be the first english actress, i. , _note_ ; cibber's account of, i. - ; without a rival in shakespeare's plays, i. ; her unblemished character, i. ; pensioned by queen anne, i. ; her death, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . ---- thomas, i. , i. , i. , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. . ii. , ii. , ii. ; improves scenery, i. xxii.; taken into good society, i. ; famous for hamlet, i. ; cibber's eulogium of, i. - ; his supreme excellence, i. ; description of his hamlet, i. ; booth's veneration for, i. , _note_ ; his hotspur, i. ; his brutus, i. ; the grace and harmony of his elocution, i. ; his success in "alexander the great," i. , i. ; his just estimate of applause, i. ; his perfect elocution, i. ; description of his voice and person, i. ; kneller's portrait of, i. ; his last appearance, i. ; his death, i. ; the "tatler's" eulogium of, i. , _note_ ; gildon's life of, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; mrs. bracegirdle returns to play for his benefit, i. ; ill-treated by the patentees, i. ; makes a party against them, i. ; obtains a licence in , i. , _note_ , i. ; mimicked by powell, i. , i. , _note_ ; his versatility, i. ; his difficulty in managing at lincoln's inn fields, i. ; as a prologue-speaker, i. ; inability to keep order in his company, i. ; said to be specially favoured by the lord chamberlain, ii. ; declines management in, , ii. ; advertisement regarding his salary ( ), ii. , _note_ ; his superiority to wilks and booth, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; and the puppet-show keeper, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . betterton's company ( to, ), their decline, i. ; disorders in, i. . biblical narratives dramatized in the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxvii. _et seq._ bibliography of colley cibber, ii. - . bickerstaffe, isaac (author), ii. . bickerstaffe, john (actor), ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; threatens cibber for reducing his salary, i. , _note_ . bignell, mrs., ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . "biographia britannica," ii. . "biographia dramatica," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . bird, theophilus, an eminent actor, i. xxvi. blackfriar's company, "men of grave and sober behaviour," i. xxvii. ---- theatre, i. xxv., i. xxvi., i. xxviii., i. xlix.; its excellent company, i. xxiv., i. xxvi. blanc, abbé le, his account of a theatre riot, i. , _note_ . "blast upon bays, a," ii. . "bloody brother, the," actors arrested while playing, i. xxx. booth, barton, i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; memoirs of, published immediately after his death, i. ; story told by him of cibber, i. , _note_ ; his veneration for betterton, i. , _note_ ; his indolence alluded to by cibber, i. ; his reverence for tragedy, i. ; his morat, i. ; his life, by theo. cibber, quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his henry viii., i. , _note_ ; is warned by powell's excesses to avoid drinking, i. ; as a prologue-speaker, i. ; elects to continue at drury lane in , ii. ; his marriage, ii. , _note_ ; the reason of the delay in making him a manager, ii. ; his success as cato, ii. - ; his claim to be made a manager on account of his success, ii. ; supported by lord bolingbroke, ii. , _note_ ; his name added to the licence, ii. ; the terms of his admission as sharer, ii. ; his suffering from wilks's temper, ii. ; his connection with steele during the dispute about steele's patent, ii. , _note_ ; wilks's jealousy of, ii. ; a scene with wilks, ii. - ; and wilks, their opinion of each other, ii. ; his deficiency in humour, ii. ; formed his style on betterton, ii. ; cibber's comparison of wilks and booth, ii. - ; his othello and cato, ii. ; memoir of, ii. , _note_ ; patent granted to him, wilks, and cibber, after steele's death, ii. ; sells half of his share of the patent to highmore, ii. . booth, mrs. barton (see also santlow, hester), insulted by capt. montague, i. - ; sells the remainder of booth's share to giffard, ii. . boswell, james, his "life of dr. johnson," quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . bourgogne, hotel de, a theatre originally used for religious plays, i. xxxv. boutell, mrs., mentioned, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . bowen, james (singer), ii. . bowman (actor), memoir of, ii. , _note_ ; sings before charles ii., ii. . ---- mrs., ii. , _note_ . bowyer, michael, an eminent actor, i. xxvi. boy-actresses, i. ; still played after the appearance of women, i. . bracegirdle, mrs. anne, i. , i. , i. , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; admitted into good society, i. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her good character, i. - ; her character attacked by bellchambers, i. , _note_ ; tom brown's scandal about her, i. , _note_ ; attacked in "poems on affairs of state," i. , _note_ ; her best parts, i. ; her retirement, i. ; memoir of her, i. , _note_ ; her rivalry with mrs. oldfield, i. , _note_ ; declines to play some of mrs. barry's parts, i. - ; her retirement, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; her attempted abduction by capt. hill, ii. . bradshaw, mrs., ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. . brett, colonel henry, a share in the drury lane patent presented to him by skipwith, ii. ; his acquaintance with cibber, ii. ; cibber's account of, ii. - ; admires cibber's perriwig, ii. ; and the countess of macclesfield, ii. - ; his dealings with rich, ii. - , ii. - ; makes wilks, estcourt, and cibber his deputies in management, ii. , _note_ ; gives up his share to skipwith, ii. . ---- mrs. (see also miss mason, and countess of macclesfield), cibber's high opinion of her taste, ii. , _note_ ; his "careless husband" submitted to her, ii. , _note_ ; her judicious treatment of her husband, ii. , _note_ . bridgwater (actor), ii. . brown, tom, ii. , ii. ; his scandal on mrs. bracegirdle, i. , _note_ . buck, sir george, his "third university of england," quoted, i. xlviii. buckingham, duke of, ii. . "buffoon, the," an epigram on cibber's admission into society, i. , _note_ . bullen, a. h., his "lyrics from elizabethan song-books," i. , _note_ . bullock, christopher, ii. , _note_ . ---- mrs. christopher, i. , _note_ . ---- william, i. , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . burbage, richard, i. xxvi. burgess, colonel, killed horden, an actor, i. ; his punishment, i. , _note_ . burlington, earl of, ii. . burnet, bishop, his observations on nell gwynne, ii. ; on mrs. roberts, ii. . burney, dr., his "history of music," ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his mss. in the british museum, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . burt (actor), superior to his successors, i. xxiv.; apprenticed to shank, i. xxv.; and to beeston, i. xxv.; a "boy-actress," i. xxv.; a cornet in charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; arrested for acting, i. xxx. butler, mrs. charlotte, i. , i. , ii. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; patronized by charles ii., i. ; a good singer and dancer, i. ; a pleasant and clever actress, i. ; compared with mrs. oldfield, i. ; goes to the dublin theatre, i. ; note regarding her, i. , _note_ . byrd, william, his "psalmes, sonets, etc.," i. , _note_ . byron, lord, a practical joke erroneously attributed to him while at cambridge, i. , _note_ . cambridge. see trinity college, cambridge. "careless husband," cast of, i. , _note_ . carey, henry, deprived of the freedom of the theatre for bantering cibber, ii. , _note_ . carlile, james, memoir of, i. , _note_ ; is killed at aughrim, i. , _note_ , i. . cartwright (actor), belonged to the salisbury court theatre, i. xxiv. castil-blaze, mons., his "la danse et les ballets" quoted, i. , _note_ . catherine of arragon, pageants at her marriage with prince arthur, i. xliii. "cato," by addison, cast of, ii. , _note_ ; its success, ii. - ; at oxford, ii. ; its influence, ii. ; cibber's syphax in, i. . chalmers, george, his "apology for the shakspeare-believers," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . "champion" (by henry fielding), quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . charke, charlotte, ii. . ---- (musician), husband of cibber's daughter, ii. . charles ii. mentioned, i. , i. ; his escape from presbyterian tyranny, i. ; cibber sees him at whitehall, i. ; writes a funeral oration on his death while still at school, i. ; patents granted by him to davenant and killigrew, i. ; wittily reproved by killigrew, i. , _note_ ; called anthony leigh "his actor," i. ; his court theatricals, ii. ; and bowman the actor, ii. ; his opinion of sandford's acting, ii. . chesterfield, lord, his powers of raillery, i. , i. ; refers ironically to cibber in "common sense," i. , _note_ ; opposes the licensing act of , i. . chetwood, william rufus, cibber acts for his benefit, ii. ; his "history of the stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. - , ii. , ii. , ii. . "children of her majesty's chapel," i. xxxvi. "children of paul's," i. xxxvi. churchill, general, ii. , _note_ . ---- lady (duchess of marlborough), i. ; cibber attends her at table, i. ; his admiration of her, i. ; her beauty and good fortune, i. . cibber, caius gabriel, father of colley cibber, i. , _note_ ; his statues and other works, i. ; his marriage, i. , _note_ ; his death, i. , _note_ ; presents a statue to winchester college, i. ; employed at chatsworth, i. ; statues carved by him for trinity college library, cambridge, i. . cibber, colley, account of his life:-- his apology written at bath, i. , _note_ ; his reasons for writing his own life, i. , i. ; his birth, i. ; his baptism recorded, i. , _note_ ; sent to school at grantham, i. ; his character at school, i. ; writes an ode at school on charles ii.'s death, i. ; and on james ii.'s coronation, i. ; his prospects in life, i. ; his first taste for the stage, i. ; stifles his love for the stage and desires to go to the university, i. ; serves against james ii. in , i. ; attends lady churchill at table, i. ; his admiration of her, i. ; disappointed in his expectation of receiving a commission in the army, i. ; petitions the duke of devonshire for preferment, i. ; determines to be an actor, i. ; hangs about downes the prompter, i. , _note_ ; his account of his own first appearances, i. ; his first salary, i. ; description of his personal appearance, i. ; his first success, i. ; his marriage, i. ; plays kynaston's part in "the double dealer," i. ; remains with patentees in, , i. ; writes his first prologue, i. ; not allowed to speak it, i. ; forced to play fondlewife, i. ; plays it in imitation of dogget, i. ; his slow advancement as an actor, i. , i. ; writes his first play, "love's last shift," i. ; as sir novelty fashion, i. ; encouraged and helped by vanbrugh, i. ; begins to advance as an actor, i. ; better in comedy than tragedy, i. ; tragic parts played by him, i. ; his iago abused, i. , _note_ ; description of his justice shallow, i. , _note_ ; leaves drury lane for lincoln's inn fields, i. , _note_ ; returns to drury lane, i. , _note_ ; his "love in a riddle" condemned, i. - ; accused of having gay's "polly" vetoed, i. ; his damon and phillida, i. , _note_ ; consulted by rich on matters of management, i. ; his disputes with wilks, i. ; his "woman's wit" a failure, i. ; distinguished by dryden, i. ; attacked by jeremy collier, i. ; his adaptation of "richard iii.," i. ; his "richard iii." mutilated by the master of the revels, i. ; attacked by george chalmers, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; declines to pay fees to killigrew, master of revels, i. ; his surprise at mrs. oldfield's excellence, i. ; writes "the careless husband" chiefly for mrs. oldfield, i. ; finishes "the provoked husband," begun by vanbrugh, i. , _note_ ; invited to join swiney at the haymarket, i. ; leaves rich and goes to swiney, i. ; his "lady's last stake," ii. ; his "double gallant," ii. ; his "marriage à la mode," ii. ; declines to act on the same stage as rope-dancers, ii. ; advises col. brett regarding the patent, ii. , ii. ; his first introduction to him, ii. ; his account of brett, - ; as young reveller in "greenwich park," ii. ; made deputy-manager by brett, ii. , _note_ ; advertisement regarding his salary, , ii. , _note_ ; made joint manager with swiney and others in , ii. ; and his fellow-managers, wilks and dogget, ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; mediates between wilks and dogget, ii. ; his troubles with wilks, ii. ; his views and conduct on booth's claiming to become a manager, ii. - , ii. - ; his meetings with dogget after their law-suit, ii. ; his "nonjuror," i. , _note_ , ii. - ; accused of stealing his "nonjuror," ii. , _note_ ; makes the jacobites his enemies, ii. - ; reported dead by "mist's weekly journal," ii. ; his "provoked husband" hissed by his jacobite enemies, ii. ; his appointment as poet laureate in , i. , _note_ ; the reason of his being made laureate, ii. ; his "ximena," ii. , _note_ ; his suspension by the duke of newcastle, ii. , _note_ ; his connection with steele during the dispute about steele's patent, ii. , _note_ ; his account of a suit brought by steele against his partners, ii. - ; his pleading in person in the suit brought by steele, ii. - ; his success in pleading, ii. , _note_ , ii. ; assisted steele in his "conscious lovers," ii. ; his playing of wolsey before george i., ii. ; admitted into good society, i. ; elected a member of white's, i. , _note_ ; an epigram on his admission into good society, i. , _note_ ; patent granted to cibber, wilks, and booth after steele's death, ii. ; sells his share of the patent to highmore, ii. ; his sale of his share in the patent, i. ; his shameful treatment of highmore, ii. ; his retirement, ii. ; gives a reason for retiring from the stage, i. , i. , _note_ ; his appearances after his retirement, ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his remarks on his successful reappearances, i. ; his last appearances, i. , _note_ ; his adaptation of "king john," i. , _note_ ; his "papal tyranny in the reign of king john" withdrawn from rehearsal, ii. ; his "papal tyranny" produced, ii. ; its success, ii. ; his quarrel with pope, ii. - ; and horace walpole, ii. ; his death and burial, ii. ; list of his plays, ii. - ; bibliography of, ii. - ; anthony aston's "supplement" to, ii. . cibber, colley, attacks on him:-- commonly accused of cowardice, i. , _note_ ; threatened by john bickerstaffe, for reducing his salary, i. , _note_ ; accused of "venom" towards booth, i. , _note_ ; abused by dennis, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his offer of a reward for discovery of dennis, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; charged with envy of estcourt, i. , _note_ ; fielding's attacks upon, quoted (see under fielding, hy.); his galling retaliation on fielding, i. ; said to have been thrashed by gay, i. , _note_ ; "the laureat's" attacks upon (see "laureat"); satirized on his appointment as laureate, i. ; epigrams on his appointment quoted, i. , _note_ ; writes verses in his own dispraise, i. ; his odes attacked by fielding, i. , _note_ ; and by johnson, i. , _note_ ; charges against him of levity and impiety, i. , _note_ ; accused of negligence in acting, i. , _note_ ; attacked by the daily papers, i. ; his disregard of them, i. , i. , _note_ ; on newspaper attacks, ii. ; on principle never answered newspaper attacks, ii. ; his famous quarrel with pope, ii. ; "the nonjuror" a cause of pope's enmity to cibber, ii. , _note_ ; attacked by pope for countenancing pantomimes, ii. , _note_ ; his reply, ii. , _note_ ; his first allusion to pope's enmity, i. ; his opinion of pope's attacks, i. ; his odes, i. , _note_ ; supposed to be referred to in preface to shadwell's "fair quaker of deal," ii. , _note_ ; attacked for mutilating shakespeare, ii. ; accused of stealing "love's last shift," i. , and "the careless husband," i. , _note_ ; satirized by swift, i. , _note_ ; his defence of his follies, i. , i. . cibber, colley, criticisms of contemporaries:-- on the production of addison's "cato," ii. , ii. - ; his description of mrs. barry, i. - ; on the excellence of betterton and his contemporaries, i. ; his eulogium of betterton, i. - ; his description of mrs. betterton, i. - ; his account of booth and wilks as actors, ii. - ; his description of mrs. bracegirdle, i. - ; his description of mrs. butler, i. - ; his high opinion of mrs. brett's taste, ii. , _note_ ; submits every scene of his "careless husband" to mrs. brett, ii. , _note_ ; on his own acting, i. - ; his "epilogue upon himself," ii. ; on dogget's acting, ii. ; his low opinion of garrick, ii. ; his description of kynaston, i. - ; his description of leigh, i. - ; his description of mrs. leigh, i. - ; his description of mountfort, i. - ; his description of mrs. mountfort, i. - ; his praise of nicolini, ii. ; his description of nokes, i. - ; his hyperbolical praise of mrs. oldfield's lady townly, i. , i. , _note_ ; on rich's misconduct, ii. ; his description of sandford, i. ; his description of cave underhill, i. - ; his unfairness to verbruggen, i. , _note_ ; his account of wilks and booth as actors, ii. - ; on wilks's hamlet, i. ; praises wilks's diligence, ii. , ii. ; on wilks's love of acting, ii. ; on wilks's temper, ii. , ii. ; a scene with wilks, - . cibber, colley, reflections and opinions:-- on acting, i. , i. ; on acting villains, i. - , i. ; on the prejudice against actors, i. - ; his advice to dramatists, ii. ; on applause, i. , ii. ; on the severity of audiences, i. ; on politeness in audiences, ii. ; on troubles with authors, ii. ; on the effect of comedy-acting, i. ; on court influence, ii. ; on criticism, i. ; on his critics, ii. ; on humour in tragedy, i. ; on the italian opera, ii. - ; on the difficulty of managing italian singers, ii. ; on laughter, i. ; on the liberty of the stage, i. ; on the validity of the licence, i. ; on the power of the lord chamberlain, ii. - ; his principles as manager, i. ; on management, ii. ; on judicious management, ii. ; on the duties and responsibilities of management, ii. - ; on the success of his management, ii. ; on morality in plays, i. , i. ; on the power of music, i. ; on oxford theatricals, ii. - ; on pantomimes, i. , ii. ; on prologue-speaking, i. ; on the difficulties of promotion in the theatre, ii. ; on the queen's theatre in the haymarket, i. ; on raillery, i. ; on the revolution of , i. - ; on satire, i. ; on the reformation of the on making the stage useful, ii. - ; on the benefit of only one theatre, i. , ii. , ii. - ; on the shape of the theatre, ii. ; on his own vanity, ii. . ---- miscellaneous:-- profit arising from his works, i. , _note_ ; frequently the object of envy, i. ; his obtrusive loyalty, i. , _note_ , i. ; banters his critics by allowing his "apology" to be impudent and ill-written, i. ; his easy temper under criticism and abuse, i. ; confesses the faults of his writing, i. ; his "quavering tragedy tones," i. , _note_ ; his playing of richard iii. an imitation of sandford, i. ; his "careless husband" quoted, i. , _note_ ; his wigs, ii. , _note_ ; his treatment of authors, ii. , _note_ ; reproved by col. brett for his treatment of authors, ii. , _note_ ; his dedication of the "wife's resentment" to the duke of kent, ii. ; censured for his treatment of authors, ii. , _note_ ; his satisfaction in looking back on his career, ii. ; his acknowledgment of steele's services to the theatre, ii. ; his dedication of "ximena" to steele, ii. , _note_ ; his omission of many material circumstances in the history of the stage, ii. , _note_ ; wilks his constant supporter and admirer, ii. , _note_ ; his "odes," ii. ; hissed as phorbas, ii. ; aston on cibber's acting, ii. . cibber, mrs. colley, her marriage, i. ; her character, i. , _note_ ; her father's objection to her marriage, i. , _note_ . ---- lewis (brother of colley), admitted to winchester college, i. ; cibber's affection for, i. ; his great abilities, i. ; his death, i. . ---- susanna maria (wife of theophilus), ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; her speaking described, i. , _note_ . ---- theophilus, ii. , _note_ , ii. ; mentioned ironically by lord chesterfield, i. , _note_ ; in "art and nature," i. , _note_ ; acts as his father's deputy in heads a mutiny against highmore, ii. ; account of him, ii. ; his "life of booth" quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . "circe," an opera, i. . civil war, the, closing of theatres during, i. . clark, actor, memoir of, i. , _note_ . cleveland, duchess of, and goodman, ii. . clive, mrs. catherine, ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; her acting in "love in a riddle," i. , _note_ . clun, a "boy-actress," i. xxiv. cock-fighting prohibited in, , i. lii. cockpit, the (or phoenix), i. xxv.; its company, i. xxvi., i. xxviii., i. xlix.; rhodes's company at, i. xxviii.; secret performances at, during the commonwealth, i. xxx. coke, rt. hon. thomas, vice-chamberlain, his interference in dogget's dispute with his partners, ii. . coleman, mrs., the first english actress, i. , _note_ . colley, the family of, i. , i. . ---- jane, mother of colley cibber, i. , _note_ . collier, jeremy, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ ; his "short view of the profaneness, &c., of the english stage," i. xxi., i. xxxiii., i. , i. ; his arguments confuted, i. xxxiii. collier, william, m.p., i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; procures a licence for drury lane, ii. ; evicts rich, ii. ; appoints aaron hill his manager, ii. , _note_ ; his unjust treatment of swiney, ii. , ii. ; takes the control of the opera from swiney, ii. ; farms the opera to aaron hill, ii. ; forces swiney to resume the opera, ii. ; made partner with cibber, wilks, and dogget at drury lane, ii. ; his shabby treatment of his partners, ii. , ii. ; his downfall, ii. ; replaced by steele in the licence, ii. . comedy-acting, the effect of, i. . "common sense," a paper by lord chesterfield, quoted, i. , _note_ . "comparison between the two stages," by gildon, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. . complexion, black, of evil characters on the stage, i. . congreve, william, i. , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; memoir of, mentioned, i. , _note_ ; his "love for love," i. , i. ; scandal about him and mrs. bracegirdle, i. , _note_ ; a sharer with betterton in his licence in , i. , _note_ , i. ; his "mourning bride," i. ; his "way of the world," i. ; his opinion of "love's last shift," i. ; and vanbrugh manage the queen's theatre, i. , i. ; gives up his share in the queen's theatre, i. ; and mrs. bracegirdle, ii. . cooper, lord chancellor, ii. , ii. . coquelin, constant, his controversy with henry irving regarding diderot's "paradoxe sur le comédien," i. , _note_ . corelli, arcangelo, ii. . cory (actor), ii. , _note_ . court, theatrical performances at, see royal theatricals; interference of the, in the management of the stage, i. . covent garden, drury lane theatre sometimes described as the theatre in, i. , _note_ . covent garden theatre, i. , _note_ . coventry, the old leet book of, i. xl. craggs, mr. secretary, ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; chastises captain montague for insulting miss santlow, i. . craufurd, david, his account of the disorders in betterton's company, i. , _note_ . crawley, keeper of a puppet-show, ii. . creation, the, dramatized in the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxviii. cromwell, lady mary, i. , _note_ . cross, mrs., i. , _note_ . ---- richard, prompter of drury lane, i. , _note_ . crowne, john, his masque of "calisto," ii. . cumberland, richard, his description of mrs. cibber's speaking, i. , _note_ . cunningham, lieut.-col. f., doubts if ben jonson was an unsuccessful actor, i. , _note_ . curll, edmund, his "history of the stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. ; his "life of mrs. oldfield," i. , _note_ ; his memoirs of wilks, i. , _note_ . curtain theatre, the, mentioned by stow as recently erected, i. xlviii. cuzzoni, francesca, her rivalry with faustina, ii. . "cynthia's revels," played by the children of her majesty's chapel, i. xxxvi. "daily courant," quoted, ii. , _note_ . daly, augustin, his company of comedians, ii. . dancers and singers introduced by davenant, i. . davenant, alexander, ii. , _note_ ; his share in the patent, i. , _note_ . ---- dr. charles, ii. . ---- sir william, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; first introduces scenery, i. xxxii.; copy of his patent, i. liii.; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; poet laureate, i. , _note_ ; receives a patent from charles i., i. , _note_ ; from charles ii., i. ; his company worse than killigrew's, i. ; he introduces spectacle and opera to attract audiences, i. ; unites with killigrew's, i. ; his "macbeth," ii. , _note_ . davies, thomas, his "dramatic miscellanies," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. . _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ . ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his "life of garrick," i. lv., _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. . davis, mary (moll), i. , _note_ . denmark, prince of, his support of william of orange, i. , i. . dennis, john, i. , _note_ , ii. ; abuses cibber for his loyalty, i. , _note_ ; accuses cibber of stealing his "love's last shift," i. ; his attacks on steele and cibber, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; attacks wilks, ii. , _note_ ; abuses one of the actors of his "comic gallant," ii. , _note_ . "deserving favourite, the," i. xxv. devonshire, duke of, ii. ; his quarrel with james ii., i. ; cibber presents a petition to, i. . diderot, denis, his "paradoxe sur le comédien," i. , _note_ . dillworth, w. h., his "life of pope," ii. , _note_ . dixon, a member of rhodes's company, i. , _note_ . dobson, austin, his "fielding" quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . dodington, bubb, mentioned by bellchambers, i. , _note_ . dodsley, robert, purchased the copyright of cibber's "apology," i. , _note_ . dogget, thomas, i. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his excellence in fondlewife, i. ; cibber plays fondlewife in imitation of, i. ; his intractability in betterton's company, i. ; deserts betterton at lincoln's inn fields, and comes to drury lane, i. ; arrested for deserting drury lane, ii. ; defies the lord chamberlain, ii. ; wins his case, ii. ; made joint manager with swiney and others in , ii. ; his characteristics as a manager, ii. , ii. ; his behaviour on booth's claiming to become a manager, ii. , ii. ; retires because of booth's being made a manager, ii. ; his refusal to come to any terms after booth's admission, ii. ; goes to law for his rights, ii. ; the result, ii. ; wilks's temper, the real reason of his retirement, ii. - ; shows a desire to return to the stage, ii. ; his final appearances, ii. ; cibber's account of his excellence, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. . doran, dr. john, his "annals of the stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. . dorset, earl of, ii. ; has leigh's portrait painted in "the spanish friar," i. ; when lord chamberlain, supports betterton in - , i. ; compliments cibber on his first play, i. . dorset garden, duke's theatre, i. xxxii. ---- theatre, built for davenant's company, i. , _note_ ; the subscribers to, called adventurers, i. , _note_ . "double dealer, the," i. , _note_ . "double gallant," cast of, ii. , _note_ . downes, john, his "roscius anglicanus," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; attended constantly by cibber and verbruggen in hope of employment on the stage, i. , _note_ ; the "tatler" publishes a supposed letter from, ii. . "dramatic censor," , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . dramatists, cibber's advice to, ii. . drury lane theatre, i. , _note_ ; opened by king's company, i. xxxii.; built for killigrew's company, i. ; sometimes called "the theatre in covent garden," i. , _note_ ; desertion from in , i. ; company ( ), their improvement, i. ; its patent, ii. ; its original construction, ii. ; why altered, ii. ; under w. collier's management, , ii. ; report on its stability, ii. - . dryden, john, ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; his prologue on opening drury lane, , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; a bad elocutionist, i. ; his morat("aurenge-zebe"), i. ; his high praise of mrs. elizabeth barry, i. ; his prologue to "the prophetess," i. , _note_ ; his "king arthur," i. , _note_ ; a sharer in the king's company, i. ; his address to the author of "heroic love" quoted, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his indecent plays, i. ; his epilogue to "the pilgrim," i. ; his "secular masque," i. , _note_ ; his prologue to "the prophetess" vetoed, ii. ; his prologues at oxford, ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; expensive revival of his "all for love," ii. . dublin, wilks's success in, i. . "duchess of malfy," i. xxv. dugdale, sir william, his "antiquities of warwickshire" quoted, i. xxxvi.; mentions the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxviii. duke's servants, the, i. , _note_ , i. . duke's theatre, ii. ; first theatre to introduce scenery, i. xxxii. dulwich college, built and endowed by edward alleyn, i. xxviii. "dunciad, the," i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; on italian opera, i. , _note_ . dyer, mrs., actress, i. , _note_ . edicts to suppress plays, - , ii. . edward, son of henry vi., pageant played before, i. xl. ---- son of edward iv., pageant played before, i. xlii. edwin, john, his "eccentricities" quoted, ii. , _note_ . e----e, mr. [probably erskine], his powers of raillery, i. , i. , _note_ , i. . egerton, william, his memoirs of mrs. oldfield, i. , _note_ . "egotist, the," i. lv., _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. . elephants on the stage, ii. , _note_ . elizabeth, queen, and the spanish armada, allusion to, i. ; her rule of government, i. . elocution, importance of, i. . elrington, thomas, his visit to drury lane in , ii. , _note_ ; cibber said to have refused to let him play a certain character, ii. , _note_ . ely, bishop of, and joe haines, ii. . erskine, mr., probably the person mentioned by cibber, i. , i. , _note_ , i. . estcourt, richard, i. , i. . i. . i. , _note_ ; a marvellous mimic, i. ; yet not a good actor, i. ; said to be unfairly treated by cibber, i. , _note_ ; could not mimic nokes, i. ; his "gag" on the union of the companies in, , i. ; his first coming to london, i. ; made deputy-manager by brett, ii. , _note_ ; advertisement regarding his salary, , ii. , _note_ ; his falstaff, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . eusden, laurence, poet laureate, his death, i. , _note_ . evans, john, his visit to drury lane in , ii. , _note_ ; his falstaff, ii. . "faction display'd," ii. , _note_ . "fair maid of the west, the," i. xxv. fairplay, francis, a name assumed by cibber on one occasion, i. . "fairy queen," preface to, quoted, i. , _note_ . farinelli (singer), ii. . farquhar, george, ii. , ii. , ii. . fashionable nights, ii. . faustina (faustina bordoni hasse), her rivalry with cuzzoni, ii. . fees for performances at court, ii. . fenwick, sir john, ii. . fideli, signor, i. xxvii. field, nathaniel, originally a "chapel boy," i. xxxvii. fielding, henry, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. ; attacks cibber in "the champion," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; in "joseph andrews," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; in "pasquin," i. , _note_ ; attacks cibber for mutilating shakespeare, ii. ; manager of a company at the haymarket, i. , _note_ ; cibber's retaliation on, i. ; austin dobson's memoir of, quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; said to have caused the licensing act of , i. . fitzgerald, percy, his "new history of the english stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . fitzharding, lady, i. . fitzstephen, william, his "description of the city of london," i. xxxvii. fleetwood, charles, ii. ; purchases from highmore and mrs. wilks their shares of the patent, i. , ii. ; the deserters return to him, ii. . fletcher, john, his plays, i. xxv. footmen, admitted gratis to drury lane, i. ; this privilege abolished, i. , _note_ . fortune theatre, i. xxvi., i. xxix. fox, bishop, had charge of pageants in which sacred persons were introduced, i. xlv. french actors at lincoln's inn fields, ii. , _note_ . ---- audience, conduct of, ii. . "funeral, the," i. . gaedertz, herr, his "zur kenntniss der altenglischen bühne," ii. , _note_ . "gammer gurton's needle," one of the earliest regular comedies, i. xlvii. garrick, david, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; his influence in reforming the stage, ii. ; cibber plays against, ii. ; cibber's low opinion of, ii. ; davies's life of, i. lv., _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. . gaussin, jeanne catherine, ii. . gay, john, said to have thrashed cibber, i. , _note_ ; his "beggar's opera," i. ; his "polly" forbidden to be played, i. , i. , _note_ . genest, rev. john, his "account of the english stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his opinion of cibber's richard iii., i. , _note_ . "gentleman's magazine," ii. . gentlemen of the great chamber, actors entitled, i. . george i. has theatrical performances at hampton court, ii. ; his amusement at a scene of "henry viii.," ii. ; his present to the actors for playing at court, ii. . ---- ii., i. , ii. . giffard, henry, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; his theatre in goodman's fields, i. , _note_ ; purchases half of booth's share of the patent, ii. . gifford, william, doubts if ben jonson was an unsuccessful actor, i. , _note_ . gildon, charles, his life of betterton, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. . globe theatre, i. xxvi., i. xxix. goffe, alexander, a "boy-actress," i. xxx.; employed to give notice of secret performances during the commonwealth, i. xxx. "golden rump, the," a scurrilous play, i. , _note_ . goodman, cardell, mentioned, i. , _note_ , i. ; prophesies cibber's success as an actor, i. ; a highway robber, ii. , ii. ; his connection with the fenwick and charnock plot, ii. ; he and captain griffin have one shirt between them, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . goodman's fields, unlicensed theatre in, i. ; attempt to suppress it, i. ; odell's theatre, i. , _note_ ; giffard's theatre, i. , _note_ . ---- theatre, i. , _note_ ; closed by licensing act ( ), i. , _note_ . grafton, duke of, ii. ; blamed for making cibber laureate, i. , _note_ . grantham, cibber sent to school at, i. . griffin, captain (actor), i. , _note_ ; admitted into good society, i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; and goodman have one shirt between them, ii. . griffith, thomas, his visit to drury lane in , ii. , _note_ . "grub street journal," ii. , _note_ . guiscard, his attack on lord oxford referred to, i. . gwyn, nell, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. ; and charles ii., ii. ; bishop burnet's opinion of, ii. . haines, joseph, ii. , _note_ ; his _bon mot_ on jeremy collier, i. ; account of his career, i. , _note_ ; aston's description of, ii. ; his pranks, ii. , ii. ; life of, ii. , _note_ . halifax, lord, i. , ii. ; a patron of the theatre, ii. ; his testimonial to mrs. bracegirdle, ii. . hamlet, incomparably acted by taylor, i. xxvi.; betterton as, i. ; wilks's mistakes in, i. . hammerton, stephen, a famous "boy-actress," i. xxvi.; played amyntor, i. xxvi. hampton court, theatrical performances at, ii. , ii. , ii. . "hannibal and scipio," i. xxv. harlequin, cibber's low opinion of the character, i. - ; played without a mask by pinkethman, i. . "harlequin sorcerer," a noted pantomime, ii. , _note_ . harper, john, arrested as a rogue and vagabond, i. ; trial, ii. ; the result of his trial, i. ; his falstaff, ii. . harris, ii. , ii. . harrison, general, murders w. robinson the actor, i. xxix. hart, charles, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ ; superior to his successors, i. xxiv.; apprenticed to robinson, i. xxiv.; a "boy-actress," i. xxiv.; a lieutenant in charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; arrested for acting, i. xxx.; grows old and wishes to retire, i. xxxii.; his acting of the plain dealer, i. , _note_ ; famous for othello, i. ; his retirement, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . haymarket, little theatre in the, i. , _note_ ; opened by the mutineers from highmore in , ii. ; closed by licensing act ( ), i. , _note_ . ---- the queen's theatre in the (now her majesty's), i. ; its history, i. , _note_ ; opened for betterton's company, i. ; defects in its construction, i. , i. ; inconvenience of its situation, i. . hemming, john, i. xxvi. "henry viii.," ii. . heron, mrs., ii. . hewett, sir thomas, his report on the stability of drury lane, ii. . highmore, john, at variance with his actors, i. ; his purchase of the patent, i. , _note_ ; the price he paid for the patent, i. , _note_ ; purchases half of booth's share of the patent, ii. ; purchases cibber's share, ii. : his actors mutiny, ii. ; he summons harper as a rogue and vagabond, ii. ; sells his share in the patent, ii. . hill, aaron, on "tone" in speaking, i. , _note_ ; appointed by w. collier to manage drury lane, ii. , _note_ ; defied and beaten by his actors, ii. , _note_ ; farms the opera from collier, ii. ; on booth's lack of humour, ii. , _note_ . ---- captain richard, his murder of mountfort, i. , _note_ , ii. . "historia histrionica," reprint of, i. xix.; preface to, i. xxi. "historical register for ," ii. . hitchcock, robert, his "historical view of the irish stage," i. , _note_ . "holland's leaguer," i. xxv. holt, lord chief justice, ii. . horden, hildebrand, a promising actor, killed in a brawl, i. . horton, mrs., ii. . howard, j. b., plays iago in english to salvini's othello, i. , _note_ . ---- sir robert, i. , _note_ . hughes, margaret, said to be the first english actress, i. , _note_ . hutton, laurence, his "literary landmarks of london" quoted, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . irving, henry, his controversy with constant coquelin regarding diderot's "paradoxe sur le comédien," i. , _note_ ; restores shakespeare's "richard iii." to the stage, ii. . italian opera, introduced into england, i. ; "the dunciad" on, i. , _note_ . jackson, john, his "history of the scottish stage" referred to, ii. , _note_ . jacobites attacked in cibber's "nonjuror," ii. ; repay cibber for his attack by hissing his plays, ii. ; hiss his "nonjuror," ii. . james ii., ii. ; cibber, at school, writes an ode on his coronation, i. ; cibber serves against, at the revolution, i. ; his flight to france, i. ; his quarrel with the duke of devonshire, i. . jekyll, sir joseph, ii. . jevon, thomas, i. , _note_ . johnson, benjamin (actor), i. , _note_ , i. , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . johnson, dr. samuel, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his opinion of cibber's odes, i. , _note_ ; his epigram on cibber's laureateship quoted, i. , _note_ ; his "life of pope," ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his "lives of the poets," ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; his famous prologue ( ) quoted, i. , _note_ . jones, inigo, ii. . jonson, ben, i. ; out of fashion in , i. xxiii.; no actors in who could rightly play his characters, i. xxiv.; his plays, i. xxv.; his epigram on alleyn, i. xxviii.; on sal pavy, i. xxxvi.; said by cibber to have been an unsuccessful actor, i. ; this denied by gifford and cunningham, his editors, i. , _note_ ; his masques, ii. . jordan, thomas, his "prologue to introduce the first woman that came to act on the stage," , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . "joseph andrews" quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . "julius cæsar," special revival of, in , ii. . keen, theophilus, i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . kemble, john p., mentioned, i. lv., _note_ . kent, duke of, ii. . ---- mrs., ii. , _note_ . killigrew, charles, ii. , _note_ ; his share in the patent, i. , _note_ . ---- thomas, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; granted a patent similar to davenant's, i. liii., i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; his witty reproof of charles ii., i. , _note_ ; his company better than davenant's, i. ; unites with davenant's, i. . "king and no king," special revival of, in , ii. . "king arthur," i. . "king john" mutilated by colley cibber, ii. . "king john and matilda," i. xxv. king's servants, the, i. , _note_ , i. ; before , i. xxvi.; after the restoration, i. xxxi. kirkman, francis, his "wits," ii. , _note_ . knap, ii. , _note_ . kneller, sir godfrey, his portrait of betterton, i. ; his portrait of anthony leigh, i. , ii. ; imitated by estcourt, ii. . knight, mrs. frances, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . ---- joseph, his edition of the "roscius anglicanus" referred to, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . knip, mrs., i. , _note_ . kynaston, edward, i. , i. , ii. , ii. , i. , i. ; petted by ladies of quality, i. ; the beauty of his person, i. ; his voice and appearance, i. ; his bold acting in inflated passages, i. ; his majesty and dignity, i. - ; lingered too long on the stage, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . lacy, john, superior to his successors, i. xxiv. lady of title, prevented by relatives from becoming an actress, i. . "lady's last stake," cast of, ii. , _note_ . langbaine, gerard, his "account of the english poets," ii. , _note_ . laughter, reflections on, i. . "laureat, the" (a furious attack on cibber), i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. . lebrun, charles, painter, alluded to, i. . lee, charles henry, master of the revels, ii. . ---- mrs. mary, i. , _note_ . ---- nathaniel, ii. ; his "alexander the great," i. ; a perfect reader of his own works, i. ; mohun's compliment to him, i. ; failed as an actor, i. . leigh, anthony, i. , i. , i. , i. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; his exuberant humour, i. ; in "the spanish friar," i. ; painted in the character of the spanish friar, i. ; his best characters, i. , i. ; and nokes, their combined excellence, i. , his superiority to pinkethman, i. ; the favourite actor of charles ii., i. ; compared with nokes, i. ; his death, i. , i. ; his "gag" regarding obadiah walker's change of religion, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . leigh, mrs. elizabeth, i. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her peculiar comedy powers, i. ; note regarding her, i. , _note_ . ---- francis, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . leveridge, richard, ii. , _note_ . licence granted by king william in , i. . licensing act of , i. , _note_ , i. , i. , _note_ , ii. . "lick at the laureat," said to be the title of a pamphlet, i. , _note_ . lincoln's inn fields, duke's old theatre in, i. xxxii., i. , _note_ . ---- betterton's theatre in, i. ; its opening, i. ; its success at first, i. ; its speedy disintegration, i. . ---- rich's theatre in, ii. , ii. ; its exact situation, ii. , _note_ ; rich's patent revived at, ii. ; its opening, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; actors desert drury lane to join, ii. . "london cuckolds," i. . "london news-letter," i. , _note_ . lord chamberlain, cibber on the power of the, ii. - , ii. ; his name not mentioned in the patents, ii. ; sir spencer ponsonby-fane on the power of, ii. , _note_ ; his power of licensing plays, ii. ; plays vetoed by him, ii. - ; actors arrested by his orders, ii. - ; his edicts against desertions, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; said to favour betterton at the expense of rival managers, ii. ; various edicts regarding powell, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; warrant to arrest dogget, ii. , _note_ ; his edict separating plays and operas in , ii. , _note_ ; interferes on behalf of actors in their dispute with the patentees in , ii. ; silences patentees for contumacy, ii. ; his order for silence, , quoted, ii. , _note_ . lord chamberlain's records, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . lorraine, duke of, ii. . louis xiv., mentioned, i. . ---- prince, of baden, ii. . "love in a riddle," cast of, i. , _note_ . lovel (actor), ii. . lovelace, lord, ii. . "love's last shift," cast of, i. , _note_ . lowin, john, ii. ; arrested for acting, i. xxx.; superior to hart, i. xxiv.; his chief characters, i. xxvi.; too old to go into charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; becomes an inn-keeper, and dies very poor, i. xxxi. "lucius junius brutus," by lee, vetoed, ii. . "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxviii.; these plays acted at other towns besides coventry, i. xxxviii.; a description of them, i. xxxviii. _et seq._ "lunatick, the," ii. , _note_ . luttrell's diary quoted, i. , _note_ . macaulay, lord, his "history of england" referred to, ii. , _note_ . "macbeth" _in the nature of an opera_, i. , _note_ ; ii. , ii. , _note_ . macclesfield, countess of, ii. . see also mrs. brett. macklin, charles, ii. , ii. ; his first coming to london, ii. ; a great reformer, ii. . macready, william c, mentioned, i. , _note_ . macswiney, owen. see swiney, owen. "maid's tragedy" vetoed in charles ii.'s time, ii. ; played with altered catastrophe, ii. . mainwaring, arthur, ii. , _note_ . malone, edmond, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . management, cibber on the duties and responsibilities of, ii. - . margaret, queen of henry vi., pageant played before her, i. xl. marlborough, duchess of. see churchill, lady. ---- duke of, ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. . "marriage à la mode," by cibber, cast of, ii. , _note_ . marshall, anne, i. , _note_ ; said to be the first english actress, i. , _note_ . ---- julian, his "annals of tennis" quoted, i. , _note_ . mary, the virgin, and joseph, characters in the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxix. ---- queen, her death, i. . "mary, queen of scotland," by banks, vetoed, ii. . masculus, a comedian, who was a christian martyr, i. xxii. masks, ladies wearing, at the theatre, i. ; ultimately the mark of a prostitute, i. , _note_ . mason, miss. see countess of macclesfield, and mrs. brett. masques, enormous expense of, ii. . master of the revels. see revels. mathews, charles (the elder), his powers of imitation referred to, i. , _note_ . mathias, st., the choosing of, as an apostle, dramatized in the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxviii. matthews, brander, ii. , _note_ . maynard, serjeant, a whig lawyer, satirized, i. , _note_ . medbourn, matthew, ii. . melcombe, lord, mentioned, i. , _note_ . "mery play between the pardoner and the frere, the curate and neybour pratte, a," described, i. xlv. miller, james, his "art and nature" failed, i. , _note_ . ---- josias (actor), ii. . mills, john, i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; his friendship with wilks, i. , ii. ; his honesty and diligence, i. ; his large salary, i. ; advertisement regarding his salary, , ii. , _note_ ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. ; and the country squire, ii. . milward, william, i. , _note_ . mist, nathaniel. see "mist's weekly journal." "mist's weekly journal," ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. . mohun, lord, ii. ; implicated in mountfort's death, i. , _note_ , ii. . ---- michael, superior to his successors, i. xxiv.; apprentice to beeston, i. xxv.; acted bellamente, i. xxv.; a captain in charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; his death, i. ; his admiration of nat. lee's elocution, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . montague, captain, insults miss santlow, i. ; chastised by mr. craggs, i. . moore, mrs., ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . morley, professor henry, his edition of the "spectator," ii. , _note_ . mountfort, william, i. , i. , i. , _note_ , i. , ii. ; taken into good society, i. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; his voice and appearance, i. ; his alexander the great, i. ; his excellent acting of fine gentlemen, i. ; his delivery of witty passages, i. ; his rover, i. ; his versatility, i. , i. ; his sparkish ("country wife") and his sir courtly nice, i. ; copied by cibber in sir courtly nice, i. ; his tragic death, i. , i. ; memoir of him, i. , _note_ ; tom brown on his connection with mrs. bracegirdle, i. , _note_ ; his comedy of "greenwich park," ii. ; copied by wilks, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. ; full account of his death by the hands of capt. hill, ii. - . ---- mrs., i. , i. , ii. , ii. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her variety of humour, i. ; her artistic feeling, i. ; her acting of the western lass, i. ; in male parts, i. ; plays bayes with success, i. ; the excellence of her melantha, i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; leaves betterton's company in , i. ; her death, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. . mountfort, susanna, i. , _note_ . music in the theatre, i. xxxii. newcastle, duke of, ii. ; (lord chamberlain), his persecution of steele, ii. , _note_ . newington butts, i. xlix. newman, thomas, actor, one of their majesties' servants, i. , _note_ . nichols, john, his "theatre, anti-theatre, &c.," ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . nicolini (nicolo grimaldi), singer, ii. , ii. ; cibber's high praise of, ii. ; praised by the "tatler," ii. . noblemen's companies of players, i. xlvii. nokes, james, i. ; cibber's description of, i. - ; his natural simplicity, i. ; could not be imitated, i. ; his best characters, i. ; his ludicrous distress, i. ; his voice and person, i. ; and leigh, their combined excellence, i. ; compared with leigh, i. ; his death, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. ; why called "nurse nokes," ii. . nokes, robert, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. . "nonjuror, the," a line in the epilogue quoted, i. ; cast of, ii. , _note_ . norris, henry, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . ---- mrs., said to be the first english actress, i. , _note_ . northey, sir edward, his "opinion" on the patent, ii. , _note_ . oates, titus, i. . odell, thomas, his theatre in goodman's fields, i. , _note_ . "old and new london," referred to, ii. , _note_ . oldfield, mrs. anne, i. , i. , _note_ , i. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; memoirs of, published immediately after her death, i. ; her acting of lady townly praised in high-flown terms by cibber, i. , i. , _note_ ; admitted into good society, i. ; her unpromising commencement as an actress, i. , i. ; compared with mrs. butler, i. ; her rivalry with mrs. bracegirdle, i. , _note_ ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her good sense, i. ; her unexpected excellence, i. ; cibber writes "the careless husband" chiefly for her, i. ; her perfect acting in it, i. ; and wilks playing in same pieces, i. ; proposed to be made a manager, ii. ; gets increased salary instead, ii. ; advertisement regarding her salary, , ii. , _note_ ; riot directed against, ii. ; settles a dispute between wilks, cibber, and booth, ii. ; her death, ii. ; copied mrs. mountfort in comedy, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. ; and richard savage, ii. . opera, i. ; control of, given to swiney, ii. . ---- italian, account of its first separate establishment, ii. - ; decline of italian, ii. - . otway, thomas, his failure as an actor, i. , _note_ ; his "orphan," i. , _note_ . oxford, visited by the actors in , ii. , ii. ; dryden's prologues at, ii. , ii. , _note_ ; its critical discernment, ii. . ---- lord, guiscard's attack on, referred to, i. . pack, george, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; account of, ii. , _note_ . pageants formed part in receptions of princes, &c., i. xl. _et seq._ painting the face on the stage, i. , _note_ . pantomimes, the origin of, ii. ; cibber's opinion of, ii. ; "the dunciad" on, ii. , _note_ . "papal tyranny in the reign of king john," cast of, ii. , _note_ . parish-clerks, play acted by, in , i. xxxv. parliamentary reports on the theatres, i. , _note_ . "parson's wedding, the," played entirely by women, i. xxxii. "pasquin" quoted, i. , _note_ . patent, copy of, granted to sir william davenant in , i. liii.; steele's, ii. . patentees, the, their foolish parsimony, i. ; their ill-treatment of betterton and other actors, i. ; the actors combine against them, i. ; their deserted condition, i. . (for transactions of the patentees, see also rich, c.) pavy, sal, a famous child-actor, i. xxxvi.; ben jonson's epigram on, i. xxxvi. pelham, hon. henry, cibber's "apology" dedicated to, i. lv., _note_ . pembroke, earl of, ii. , _note_ . pepys, samuel, his "diary," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . percival (actor), i. , _note_ . perkins, an eminent actor, i. xxvi.; his death, i. xxxi. perrin, mons. (of the théâtre français), ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . perriwigs, enormous, worn by actors, ii. , _note_ . phoenix, the, or cockpit, i. xxvi. "picture, the," i. xxv. pinkethman, william, i. , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his inferiority to anthony leigh, i. ; his liberties with the audience, i. ; hissed for them, i. , _note_ ; his lack of judgment, i. ; plays harlequin without the mask, i. ; his success as lory in "the relapse," i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . ---- the younger, ii. . plays, value of old, for information on manners, i. xxi.; old, no actors' names given, i. xxv.; originally used for religious purposes, i. xxxiv., i. xxxv.; their early introduction, i. xxxvii.; began to alter in form about the time of henry viii., i. xlv.; origin of, in greece and england, i. xlviii.; the alteration in their subjects noticed by stow in , i. xlviii.; temporarily suspended, i. xlix.; arranged to be divided between davenant's and killigrew's companies, i. ; expenses of, i. , _note_ . players defended regarding character, i. xxii.; not to be described as rogues and vagabonds, i. xlix.; entirely suppressed by ordinances of the long parliament, i. li. playhouses, large number of, in , i. xlix. "poems on affairs of state," quoted, i. , _note_ . "poetaster, the," played by the children of her majesty's chapel, i. xxxvi. poet laureate, cibber appointed, , i. , _note_ . pollard, thomas, a comedian, i. xxvi.; superior to hart, i. xxiv.; too old to go into charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; arrested for acting, i. xxx.; his retirement and death, i. xxxi. pollixfen, judge, ii. . ponsonby-fane, sir spencer, his memorandum on the power of the lord chamberlain, ii. , _note_ . pope, alexander, ii. ; cibber's "letter" to, quoted, i. , _note_ ; cibber's first allusion to pope's enmity, i. ; an epigram comparing pope and cibber in society, i. , _note_ ; cibber's opinion of pope's attacks, i. ; some of pope's attacks quoted, i. , _note_ ; his attack on atticus (addison), i. ; cibber's "letter" to, quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; epigram attributed to him, on cibber's laureateship, i. , _note_ ; his "moral essays," quoted, i. , _note_ ; attacks cibber for countenancing pantomimes, ii. , _note_ ; "the nonjuror" a cause of his enmity to cibber, ii. , _note_ ; his "epistle to dr. arbuthnot," ii. , _note_ ; his quarrel with cibber, ii. - ; cibber's "letter" to him, ii. ; his famous adventure, ii. ; cibber's second "letter" to, ii. ; his portrait of betterton, ii. ; his attacks on mrs. oldfield, ii. . (see also "dunciad.") porter, mrs. mary, ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; dogget plays for her benefit after his retirement, ii. ; accident to, ii. , ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . portuguese, the, and religious plays, i. xxxv. "post-boy rob'd of his mail," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . powell, george, i. , i. , i. , _note_ , i. , i. , i. . _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; offered some of betterton's parts, i. ; his indiscretion as a manager, i. ; mimics betterton, i. , i. , _note_ ; the contest between him and wilks for supremacy at drury lane, i. - , i. - ; his carelessness, i. , i. ; deserts drury lane, i. ; returns to drury lane, i. ; arrested for deserting his manager, ii. ; arrested for striking young davenant, ii. ; discharged for assaulting aaron hill in , ii. , _note_ ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . price, joseph, account of him by bellchambers, i. , _note_ . prince's servants, the, before, , i. xxvi. pritchard, mrs., ii. , _note_ . profits made by the old actors, i. xxxii.; of the theatre, how divided in , i. . prologue-speaking, the art of, i. . "prophetess, the," i. . "provoked husband," cast of, i. , _note_ . "provoked wife," altered, ii. . "psyche," an opera, i. . puppet-show in salisbury change, i. . purcell, henry, i. , _note_ , ii. . quantz, mons., ii. , _note_ . queen's servants, the, before , i. xxvi. ---- theatre in the haymarket, success of swiney's company in, ii. ; set aside for operas only, ii. ; its interior altered, ii. ; opened by the seceders from drury lane in , ii. . quin, james, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; the chief actor at garrick's appearance, ii. . raftor, catherine. see clive. ---- james, i. , _note_ . raillery, reflections on, i. . raymond, his "opinion" on the patent, ii. , _note_ . red bull theatre, i. xxvi., i. xxix.; used by king's company after the restoration, i. xxxi.; drawing of the stage of the, ii. , _note_ . reformation of the stage, cibber on, i. . rehan, ada, a great comedian, ii. . religion and the stage, i. xxi., i. xxxiii. "renegado, the," i. xxv. revels, master of the, his unreasonableness to cibber, i. ; his fees refused to be paid, i. . rhodes, the prompter, ii. , ii. ; his company, at the cockpit, i. xxviii.; his company of actors engaged by davenant, i. , _note_ . rich, christopher, patentee of drury lane, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. ; description of, i. , _note_ ; admits servants to theatre gratis, i. ; his treatment of his actors, i. ; consults cibber on matters of management, i. ; his principles of management, i. , ii. - ; his tactics to avoid settling with his partners, i. ; his objections to an union of the two companies, i. ; permits swiney to rent the queen's theatre, i. ; his foolish neglect of his actors, i. ; declines to execute his agreement with swiney, i. ; wishes to bring an elephant on the stage, ii. ; introduces rope-dancers at drury lane, ii. ; silenced for receiving powell, ii. , _note_ ; his share in the patent, ii. , _note_ , ii. ; his dealings with col. brett, ii. - , ii. - ; cibber on his misconduct, ii. ; his foolish mismanagement, ii. , ii. ; confiscates part of his actors' benefits, ii. ; ordered to refund this, ii. ; silenced by the lord chamberlain ( ), ii. ; his proceedings after being silenced, ii. , ii. , _note_ ; an advertisement issued by him regarding actors' salaries in , ii. , _note_ ; evicted by collier from drury lane ( ), ii. ; his patent revived in , ii. , ii. ; his extraordinary behaviour to the lord chamberlain, ii. ; genest's character of him, ii. , _note_ ; rebuilds lincoln's inn fields theatre, ii. ; his death, ii. , _note_ . rich, john, ii. , ii. , _note_ ; opens lincoln's inn fields theatre, ii. , _note_ ; an excellent harlequin, ii. , _note_ ; manages the lincoln's inn fields company, ii. ; opens covent garden, ii. . "richard iii.," cibber's adaptation of, i. ; his playing in, i. , i. ; cast of, ii. , _note_ . richardson, jonathan, ii. . roberts, mrs., one of charles ii.'s mistresses, ii. . robins, a comedian, i. xxvi. robinson, william, ii. ; hart apprenticed to, i. xxiv.; a comedian, i. xxvi.; murdered by harrison, i. xxix. rochester, lord, ii. , _note_ , ii. . rogers, mrs., i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; her affectation of prudery, i. ; becomes wilks's mistress, i. ; her eldest daughter, i. ; riot caused by, ii. . rogues and vagabonds, players not to be described as, i. xlix., i. . "roman actor, the," i. xxv. roman catholic religion, attacked by cibber, i. . rope-dancers on the stage, ii. . "roscius anglicanus." see downes, john. rose tavern, the, i. , _note_ . rowe, nicholas, in love with mrs. bracegirdle, i. ; complains of french dancers, i. . royal theatricals during george i.'s reign, ii. ; during previous reigns, ii. ; effect of audience on actors, ii. ; fees for, ii. . rymer, thomas, ii. . sacheverel, doctor, his trial hurtful to the theatres, ii. . st. giles's-in-the-fields, colley cibber christened at, i. , _note_ . "st. james's evening post," ii. , _note_ . st. paul's singing school, i. xlix. salisbury court, the private theatre in, i. xxiv., i. xxvi., i. xxviii. salvini, tommaso, the great italian tragedian, plays in italian, while his company plays in english, i. , _note_ . sandford, samuel, i. , i. , ii. , _note_ ; the "spagnolet" of the theatre, i. ; cibber's account of him, i. - ; his personal appearance, i. ; an actor of villains, i. , i. ; his creon ("oedipus"), i. ; the "tatler" on his acting, i. , _note_ ; anecdote of his playing an honest character, i. ; "a theatrical martyr to poetical justice," i. ; his voice and manner of speaking, i. ; would have been a perfect richard iii., i. ; cibber plays richard iii. in imitation of, i. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . santlow, hester, her first appearance as an actress, ii. ; her manner and appearance, ii. ; her character, ii. , _note_ ; her marriage with booth, ii. , _note_ . (see also booth, mrs. barton.) satire, reflections on, i. ; cibber's opinion regarding a printed and an acted, i. . saunderson, mrs. see betterton, mrs. savage, richard, ii. , _note_ ; and mrs. oldfield, ii. . scenes, first introduced by sir william davenant, i. xxxii., i. , _note_ . "secular masque, the," i. , _note_ . sedley, sir charles, kynaston's resemblance to, ii. . senesino (singer), ii. . sewell, dr. george, his "sir walter raleigh," ii. , _note_ . shadwell, charles, his "fair quaker of deal," ii. . ---- thomas, his comedy of "the squire of alsatia," i. . shaftesbury, first earl of, i. , _note_ . shakespeare, william (see also names of his plays), a better author than actor, i. xxv., i. ; his plays, i. xxv.; his plays depend less on women than on men, i. ; expenses of plays in his time, i. . "sham lawyer, the," ii. , _note_ . shank, john, a comedian, i. xxvi.; played sir roger ("scornful lady"), i. xxvi. shatterel, ii. ; superior to his successors, i. xxiv.; apprentice to beeston, i. xxv.; a quartermaster in charles i.'s army, i. xxix. shelton, lady, ii. . shore, john, brother-in-law of colley cibber, i. , _note_ . ---- miss. see cibber, mrs. colley, i. , _note_ . "shore's folly," i. , _note_ . "silent woman," i. xxiv. singers and dancers introduced by davenant, i. ; difficulty in managing, ii. . skipwith, sir george, ii. . ---- sir thomas (one of the patentees of drury lane), ii. ; does vanbrugh a service, i. ; receives "the relapse" in return, i. ; a sharer in the drury lane patent, ii. ; assigns his share to colonel brett, ii. ; his friendship for brett, ii. ; claims his share from brett, ii. . smith, william, i. , ii. , ii. ; insulted by one of the audience, i. ; defended by the king, i. ; driven from the stage because of the king's support of him, i. ; taken into good society, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . sophocles, his tragedies, ii. . southampton house, bloomsbury, i. , _note_ . southerne, thomas, ii. ; prophesies the success of cibber's first play, i. ; his "oroonoko," i. , _note_ . spaniards, the, and religious plays, i. xxxv. "spectator," ii. . spiller, james, ii. , _note_ . stage, and religion, i. xxi., i. xxxiii.; the, cibber on the reformation of, i. ; audience on, forbidden, i. ; cibber on the influence of, ii. - ; shape of the, described, ii. ; doors, ii. , _note_ . statute regarding rogues and vagabonds, i. .; against profanity on the stage, i. .; against persons meeting out of their own parishes on sundays for sports, etc., i. .; entirely suppressing players, i. li. steele, sir richard, i. , _note_ , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; substituted for collier in the licence, ii. ; the benefits he had conferred on cibber and his partners, ii. ; dennis's attacks on, ii. , _note_ ; receives a patent, ii. ; assigns equal shares in the patent to his partners, ii. ; account of his transactions in connection with the theatre which are ignored by cibber, ii. , _note_ ; persecuted by the duke of newcastle, then lord chamberlain, ii. , _note_ ; his licence revoked, ii. , _note_ ; restored to his position, ii. , _note_ ; the expiry of his patent, ii. , _note_ ; assigns his share of the patent, ii. ; brings an action against his partners, ii. ; account of the pleadings, ii. - ; his recommendation of underhill's benefit, ii. . stow, john, his "survey of london" quoted, i. xxxv., i. xlviii. strolling players, i. xl., i. xlvii., i. . subligny, madlle., a french dancer, i. . "summer miscellany, the," ii. , _note_ . sumner, an eminent actor, i. xxvi.; his death, i. xxxi. sunderland, lady (the little whig), i. . swan theatre, drawing of the stage of the, ii. , _note_ . swanston, eliard, acted othello, i. xxvi.; the only actor that took the presbyterian side in the civil war, i. xxix. swift, jonathan, an attack on cibber by him in his "rhapsody on poetry" quoted, i. , _note_ . swiney, owen, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his "quacks," i. , _note_ ; account of his character, i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; rents the queen's theatre from vanbrugh, i. . i. . _note_ ; his agreement with rich about renting the queen's theatre, i. ; rich declines to execute it, i. ; his success at the queen's theatre in - , ii. ; his arrangement with his actors in , ii. ; control of the opera given to, ii. ; his gain by the opera in , ii. ; has joint control of plays and operas ( ), ii. ; forced to hand over the opera to collier, ii. ; forced to resume the opera, ii. ; goes abroad on account of debt, ii. ; his return to england, ii. ; cibber plays for his benefit, ii. . "tatler," the, i. , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. ; its eulogium of betterton, i. , _note_ ; recommends cave underhill's benefit, i. ; praises nicolini, ii. ; its influence on audiences, ii. . taylor, john, his "records of my life" quoted, i. lxv., _note_ . ---- joseph, ii. ; superior to hart, i. xxiv.; his chief characters, i. xxvi.; too old to go into charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; arrested for acting, i. xxx.; his death, i. xxxi. "tempest, the," as an opera, i. ; revival of, ii. . theatre, the, mentioned by stow as recently erected, i. xlviii. théâtre français, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . theatres, number of, before , i. xxvi.; more reputable before , i. xxvii.; less reputable after the restoration, i. xxvii.; evil, artistically, of multiplying, i. . theobald, lewis, deposed from the throne of dulness, ii. . thomson, james, his "sophonisba," ii. . tofts, mrs. katherine, i. , _note_ , ii. ; cibber's account of, ii. . "tone" in speaking, i. , _note_ . trinity college, cambridge, caius cibber's statues on the library, i. ; particulars regarding these, i. , _note_ . underhill, cave, i. , i. , i. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his chief parts, i. - ; cibber's account of, i. - ; his particular excellence in stupid characters, i. ; the peculiarity of his facial expression, i. ; his retirement and last appearances, i. , _note_ ; his death, i. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . underwood, john, originally a "chapel boy," i. xxxvii. union of companies in , i. xxxii., i. ; in , i. ; causes that led up to, ii. , ii. . valentini (valentini urbani), singer, i. , ii. , ii. . vanbrugh, sir john, i. , i. , i. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his opinion of cibber's acting of richard iii., i. ; his "relapse," i. , i. ; his high opinion of cibber's acting, i. ; his "provoked wife," i. - ; in gratitude to sir thomas skipwith presents him with "the relapse," i. ; his "Ã�sop," i. , i. ; his great ability, i. ; alters his "provoked wife," ii. ; his share in the "provoked husband," i. , _note_ ; builds the queen's theatre, i. ; and congreve manage the queen's theatre, i. , i. ; his "confederacy," i. ; "the cuckold in conceit" (attributed to him), i. ; his "squire trelooby," i. ; his "mistake," i. ; sole proprietor of the queen's theatre, i. ; lets it to swiney, i. , i. , _note_ . vaughan, commissioner, ii. , _note_ . "venice preserved," ii. , _note_ . verbruggen, john, i. , _note_ ; mentioned, i. , i. ; hangs about downes, the prompter, i. , _note_ ; note regarding, i. , _note_ ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . ---- mrs. see mrs. mountfort. vere street, clare market, theatre in, i. xxxii. versatility, cibber's views on, i. . victor, benjamin, ii. ; a story told by him of cibber's cowardice, i. , _note_ ; his "history of the theatres," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; his "letters" quoted, i. , _note_ ; his "life of booth," i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . villains, cibber's views on, i. ; macready's views on, referred to, i. , _note_ ; e. s. willard mentioned as famous for representing, i. , _note_ ; on the acting of, i. . vizard-masks (women of the town), i. xxvii. see also masks. voltaire, his "zaïre," ii. . walker, obadiah, his change of religion, ii. . waller, edmund, altered the last act of the "maid's tragedy," ii. . walpole, horace, and cibber, ii. . warburton, bishop, mentioned, i. , _note_ , ii. . ward, professor a. w., his "english dramatic literature," i. , _note_ . warwick, earl of, his frolic with pope and cibber, ii. . weaver, john, his "loves of mars and venus," ii. , _note_ . webster, benjamin, i. , _note_ . "wedding, the," i. xxv. "weekly packet" quoted, ii. , _note_ . welsted, leonard, satirically mentioned by swift, i. , _note_ . westminster bridge, difficulties in getting permission to build, ii. . whig, the little (lady sunderland), i. . white's club, cibber a member, i. , _note_ . whitefriars, i. xlix. "whitehall evening post," cibber sends verses to, regarding himself, i. . whitelocke's "memorials," ii. , _note_ . wigs. see perriwigs. wildair, sir harry, i. . "wild-goose chase, the," i. xxv. wilks, robert, i. , _note_ , i. , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; memoirs published immediately after his death, i. ; mistakes in his hamlet, i. , _note_ ; lives with mrs. rogers, i. ; distressed by pinkethman's "gagging," i. , _note_ ; his impetuous temper, i. , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. - , ii. ; his return to drury lane from dublin, i. ; his commencing as actor, i. ; the contest between him and powell for supremacy at drury lane, i. - , i. - ; his wonderful memory, i. , i. ; his diligence and care, i. , ii. ; his good character, i. ; made chief actor at drury lane, under rich, i. ; his energy in managing, i. ; his disputes with cibber, i. ; his friendship with mills, i. ; as a prologue-speaker, i. ; the occasion of his coming to london, i. ; and mrs. oldfield playing in same pieces, i. ; made deputy-manager by brett, ii. , _note_ ; made joint-manager with swiney and others in , ii. ; advertisement regarding his salary, , ii. , _note_ ; his characteristics as a manager, ii. , ii. ; his patronage of his friends, ii. ; his behaviour on booth's claiming to become a manager, ii. , ii. ; his favour for mills, ii. ; his connection with steele during the dispute about steele's patent, ii. , _note_ ; his love of acting, ii. ; a genuine admirer of cibber, ii. , _note_ ; attacked by dennis, ii. , _note_ ; his excellence as macduff, ii. ; gives the part to williams, ii. ; but withdraws it, ii. ; complains of acting so much, ii. ; a scene between him and his partners, ii. - ; benefits arising from his enthusiasm for acting, ii. ; and booth, their opinion of each other, ii. ; formed his style on mountfort's, ii. ; cibber's comparison of booth and wilks, ii. - ; his othello, ii. ; death of, ii. ; memoir of, ii. , _note_ ; patent granted to him, cibber, and booth, after steele's death, ii. . wilks, mrs., inherits wilks's share in the patent, ii. ; delegates her authority to john ellys, ii. ; her share sold to fleetwood, ii. . willard, e. s., mentioned, i. , _note_ . william of orange, cibber a supporter of, at the revolution, i. ; made king, i. ; gives a licence to betterton, i. , _note_ . williams, charles, wilks gives him the part of macduff, ii. ; but withdraws it, ii. ; hissed in mistake for cibber, i. , _note_ . ---- joseph, mentioned, i. , i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . wiltshire (actor), leaves the stage for the army, i. ; killed in flanders, i. . winchester college, cibber stands for election to, and is unsuccessful, i. ; his brother, lewis cibber, is afterwards successful, i. ; his father presents a statue to, i. ; communication from the head master of, i. , _note_ . wintershal (actor), belonged to the salisbury court theatre, i. xxiv. woffington, margaret, her artistic feeling, i. , _note_ ; an anecdote wrongly connected with her, ii. . "woman's wit," cast of, i. , _note_ . women, their first introduction on the stage, i. xxxii., i. , _note_ , i. . wren, sir christopher, the designer of drury lane theatre, ii. . wright, james, his "history of rutlandshire," i. ; quoted, i. , _note_ ; his "historia histrionica," i. xix. wykeham, william of, cibber connected with by descent, i. . "ximena," cast of, ii. , _note_ . york, duke of (james ii.), at whitehall, i. . young, dr. edward, his "epistle to mr. pope" quoted, i. , _note_ . young actors, dearth of, ii. . end of vol. i. [illustration: chiswick press:-c. whittingham and co., tooks court, chancery lane.] footnotes [footnote : colley cibber's "brazen brainless brothers." according to horace walpole, "one of the statues was the portrait of oliver cromwell's porter, then in bedlam."] [footnote : till the year of queen _elizabeth_, the queen had not any players; but in that year of the best of all those who belonged to several lords, were chosen & sworn her servants, as grooms of the chamber. stow's _annals_, p. .] [footnote : the right honourable henry pelham. davies ("life of garrick," ii. ) says that the "apology" was dedicated to "that wise and honest minister," pelham. john taylor ("records of my life," i. ) writes: "the name of the person to whom the dedication to the 'apology' was addressed is not mentioned, but the late mr. john kemble assured me that he had authority for saying it was mr. pelham, brother to the duke of newcastle." from the internal evidence it seems quite clear that this is so. in the verses to cibber quoted in "the egotist," p. , the authoress writes:-- "_some praise a patron and reveal him: you paint so true, you can't conceal him._ their _gaudy praise undue but shames him, while_ your's _by likeness only names him."_] [footnote : cibber, in chapter ix., mentions that he is writing his apology at bath, and fielding, in the mock trial of "_col._ apol." given in "the champion" of th may, , indicts the prisoner "for that you, not having the fear of grammar before your eyes, on the ---- of ---- at a certain place, called the _bath_, in the county of _somerset_, in _knights-bridge_, in the county of _middlesex_, in and upon the _english_ language an assault did make, and then and there, with a certain weapon called a goose-quill, value one farthing, which you in your left hand then held, several very broad wounds but of no depth at all, on the said _english_ language did make, and so you the said col. _apol._ the said _english_ language did murder."] [footnote : this seems to be a favourite argument of cibber. in his "letter" to pope, , he answers pope's line, "and has not colley still his lord and whore?" at great length, one of his arguments being that the latter accusation, "without some particular circumstances to aggravate the vice, is the flattest piece of satyr that ever fell from the formidable pen of mr. _pope_: because (_defendit numerus_) take the first ten thousand men you meet, and i believe, you would be no loser, if you betted ten to one that every single sinner of them, one with another, had been guilty of the same frailty."--p. .] [footnote : cibber's "apology" must have been a very profitable book. it was published in one volume quarto in , and in the same year the second edition, one volume octavo, was issued. a third edition appeared in , also in one volume octavo. davies ("dramatic miscellanies," iii. ) says: "cibber must have raised considerable contributions on the public by his works. to say nothing of the sums accumulated by dedications, benefits, and the sale of his plays singly, his dramatic works, in quarto, by subscription, published , produced him a considerable sum of money. it is computed that he gained, by the excellent apology for his life, no less than the sum of £ , ." "the laureat" ( ) is perhaps davies's authority for his computation. "_ingenious indeed_, who from such a pile of indigested incoherent ideas huddled together by the _misnomer_ of a history, could raise a contribution on the town (if fame says true) of fifteen hundred pounds."--"laureat," p. . cibber no doubt kept the copyright of the first and second editions in his own hands. in he sold his copyright to robert dodsley for the sum of fifty guineas. the original assignment, which bears the date "march ye th, / ," is in the collection of mr. julian marshall.] [footnote : of mrs. oldfield there was a volume of "authentick memoirs" published in , the year she died; and in appeared egerton's "faithful memoirs," and "the lover's miscellany," in which latter are memoirs of mrs. oldfield's "life and amours." three memoirs of wilks immediately followed his death, the third of which was written by curll, who denounces the other two as frauds. benjamin victor wrote a memoir of booth which was published in the year of his death, and there was one unauthorized memoir issued in the same year. bellchambers instances the life of congreve as another imposition.] [footnote : from this expression it appears that cibber did not contemplate again returning to the stage. he did, however, make a few final appearances, his last being to support his own adaptation of shakespeare's "king john," which he called "papal tyranny in the reign of king john," and which was produced at covent garden on th february, .] [footnote : "the rehearsal," act iii. sc. .] [footnote : the christening of colley cibber is recorded in the baptismal register of the church of st. giles-in-the-fields. the entry reads:-- "november christnings . colly sonne of caius gabriell sibber and jane ux"] [footnote : mr. laurence hutton, in his "literary landmarks of london," page , says: "southampton house, afterwards bedford house, taken down in the beginning of the present century, occupied the north side of bloomsbury square. evelyn speaks of it in his diary, october, , as in course of construction. another and an earlier southampton house in holborn, 'a little above holborn bars,' was removed some twenty years before cibber's birth. he was, therefore, probably born at the upper or north end of southampton street, facing bloomsbury square, where now are comparatively modern buildings, and not in southampton street, strand, as is generally supposed."] [footnote : caius gabriel cibber, born at flensborg in holstein in ; married, as his second wife, jane colley, on th november, ; died in . he was, as colley cibber states, a sculptor of some note.] [footnote : "where o'er the gates, by his fam'd father's hand, great cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand." (final edition of "the dunciad," i. verses - .) bellchambers notes that these figures were removed to the new hospital in st. george's fields. they are now in south kensington museum.] [footnote : "it was found by office taken in the th year of h. . that _john colly_ deceased, held the mannour and advowson of glaiston of _edward_ duke of buckingham, as of his castle of okeham by knights service."--wright's "history and antiquities of the county of rutland," p. . "in the . _car._ i. ( ) sir _anthony colly_ knight, then lord of this mannor, joyned with his son and heir apparent, _william colly_ esquire, in a conveyance of divers parcels of land in glaiston, together with the advowson of the church there, to _edward andrews_ of bisbroke in this county, esquire: which advowson is since conveyed over to _peterhouse_ in cambridge."--_ibid._ p. .] [footnote : fielding ("joseph andrews," chap. iii.), writing of parson adams, says: "simplicity was his characteristic: he did, no more than mr. colley cibber, apprehend any such passions as malice and envy to exist in mankind; which was indeed less remarkable in a country parson, than in a gentleman who has passed his life behind the scenes--a place which has been seldom thought the school of innocence."] [footnote : glout is an obsolete word signifying "to pout, to look sullen."] [footnote : bellchambers suggests that these two persons were the earl of chesterfield and "bubb doddington." as to the former he is no doubt correct, but i cannot see a single feature of resemblance between the second portrait and lord melcombe. "the laureat" says (p. ) that the portraits were "l----d c----d and mr. e----e" [probably erskine]. bellchambers seems to have supposed that "bubb" was a nickname.] [footnote : "set the table on a roar."--"hamlet," act v. sc. .] [footnote : ter. _eun._ i. , .] [footnote : _ars poetica_, .] [footnote : in william byrd's collection, entitled "psalmes, sonets, & songs of sadnes and pietie," , to., is the song to which cibber probably refers:-- "my minde to me a kingdome is." mr. bullen, in his "lyrics from elizabethan song-books" (p. ), quotes it.] [footnote : "and so many a time, when i have spoke of you dispraisingly, hath ta'en your part."--"othello," act iii. sc. .] [footnote : this is gibber's first allusion to pope's enmity. it was after the publication of the "apology" that pope's attacks became more bitter.] [footnote : horace, _epis._ ii. , .] [footnote : charles ii.'s flight from his scottish presbyterian subjects, at the end of , to take refuge among his wild highland supporters, was caused by the insolent invectives of the rigid presbyterian clergymen, who preached long sermons at him, on his own wickedness and that of his father and mother, and made his life generally a burden.] [footnote : hor. _od._ iv. , .] [footnote : "os homini sublime dedit."--ovid, _met._ i. .] [footnote : cibber is pardonably vain throughout at the society he moved in. his greatest social distinction was his election as a member of white's. his admission to such society was of course the subject of lampoons, such as the following:-- "_the_ buffoon, _an_ epigram. don't boast, prithee _cibber_, so much of thy state, that like _pope_ you are blest with the smiles of the great; with both they converse, but for different ends, and 'tis easy to know their buffoons from their friends."] [footnote : arlington did not, however, die till the th july, , surviving charles ii. by nearly six months.] [footnote : cibber was appointed poet-laureate on the death of eusden. his appointment was dated rd december, .] [footnote : "forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit."--virg. _Ã�neid_, i. .] [footnote : as laureate, and as author of "the nonjuror," cibber is bound to be extremely loyal to the protestant dynasty.] [footnote : curiously enough, cibber's praise of his deceased companion-actors has been attributed to something of this motive.] [footnote : bellchambers prints these words thus: "lick at the laureat," as if cibber had referred to the title of a book; and notes: "this is the title of a pamphlet in which some of mr. cibber's peculiarities have been severely handled." but i doubt this, for there is nothing in cibber's arrangement of the words to denote that they represent the title of a book; and, besides, i know no work with such a title published before . bellchambers, in a note on page , represents that he quotes from "lick at the laureat, ;" but i find the quotation he gives in "the laureat," (p. ), almost _verbatim_. as it stands in the latter there is no hint that it is quoted from a previous work, nor, indeed, do the terms of it permit of such an interpretation. i can, therefore, only suppose that bellchambers is wrong in attributing the sentence to a work called "a lick at the laureat."] [footnote : the principal allusions to cibber which, up to the time of the publication of the "apology," pope had made, were in the "dunciad":-- "how, with less reading than makes felons 'scape, less human genius than god gives an ape, small thanks to france and none to rome or greece, a past, vamp'd, future, old, reviv'd, new piece, 'twixt plautus, fletcher, congreve, and corneille, can make a cibber, johnson, or ozell." second edition, book i. - . "beneath his reign, shall eusden wear the bays, cibber preside, lord-chancellor of plays." second edition, book iii. , . in the "epistle to dr. arbuthnot" there were one or two passing allusions to cibber, one of them being the line:-- "and has not colley still his lord and whore?" for which cibber retaliated in his "letter" of . in the "first epistle of the second book of horace" ( ), cibber is scurvily treated. in it occur the lines:-- "and idle cibber, how he breaks the laws, to make poor pinkey eat with vast applause!"] [footnote : cibber's odes were a fruitful subject of banter. fielding in "pasquin," act ii. sc. , has the following passage:-- "_ nd voter._ my lord, i should like a place at court too; i don't much care what it is, provided i wear fine cloaths, and have something to do in the kitchen, or the cellar; i own i should like the cellar, for i am a divilish lover of sack. _lord place._ sack, say you? odso, you shall be poet-laureat. _ nd voter._ poet! no, my lord, i am no poet, i can't make verses. _lord place._ no matter for that--you'll be able to make odes. _ nd voter._ odes, my lord! what are those? _lord place._ faith, sir, i can't tell well what they are; but i know you may be qualified for the place without being a poet." boswell ("life of johnson," i. ) reports that johnson said, "his [cibber's] friends give out that he _intended_ his birth-day _odes_ should be bad: but that was not the case, sir; for he kept them many months by him, and a few years before he died he shewed me one of them, with great solicitude to render it as perfect as might be." in "the egotist" (p. ) cibber is made to say: "as bad verses are the devil, and good ones i can't get up to----"] [footnote : "champion," th april, : "when he says (fol. ) satire is _angrily_ particular, every dunce of a reader knows that he means angry with a particular person."] [footnote : cibber's allusion to pope's treatment of addison is a fair hit.] [footnote : juvenal, i. .] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) says: "if we except the remarks on plays and players by the authors of the tatler and spectator, the theatrical observations in those days were coarse and illiberal, when compared to what we read in our present daily and other periodical papers."] [footnote : "_frankly._ is it not commendable in a man of parts, to be warmly concerned for his reputation? _author [cibber]._ in what regards his honesty or honour, i will make you some allowances: but for the reputation of his parts, not one tittle!"--"the egotist: or, colley upon cibber," p. . bellchambers notes here: "when cibber was charged with moral offences of a deeper dye, he thought himself at liberty, i presume, to relinquish his indifference, and bring the libeller to account. on a future page will be found the public advertisement in which he offered a reward of ten pounds for the detection of dennis."] [footnote : "_frankly._ it will be always natural for authors to defend their works. _author [cibber]._ and would it not be as well, if their works defended themselves?"--"the egotist: or, colley upon cibber," p. .] [footnote : in his "letter to pope," , p. , cibber says: "after near twenty years having been libell'd by our daily-paper scriblers, i never was so hurt, as to give them one single answer."] [footnote : "_frankly._ i am afraid you will discover yourself; and your philosophical air will come out at last meer vanity in masquerade. _author [cibber]._ o! if there be vanity in keeping one's temper; with all my heart."--"the egotist: or, colley upon cibber," p. .] [footnote : in his "letter to pope," , p. , cibber says: "i would not have even your merited fame in poetry, if it were to be attended with half the fretful solicitude you seem to have lain under to maintain it."] [footnote : the best epigram is that which cibber ("letter," , p. ) attributes to pope:-- "in merry old england, it once was a rule, the king had his poet, and also his fool. but now we're so frugal, i'd have you to know it, that cibber can serve both for fool and for poet." dr. johnson also wrote an epigram, of which he seems to have been somewhat proud:-- "augustus still survives in maro's strain, and spenser's verse prolongs eliza's reign; great george's acts let tuneful cibber sing; for nature form'd the poet for the king." boswell, i. . in "certain epigrams, in laud and praise of the gentlemen of the dunciad," p. , is:-- epigram xvi. _a question by_ anonymus. "tell, if you can, which did the worse, _caligula_, or _gr--n's_ [grafton's] gr--ce? that made a consul of a _horse_, and this a laureate of an _ass_." in "the egotist: or, colley upon cibber," p. , cibber is made to say: "an _ode_ is a butt, that a whole quiver of wit is let fly at every year!"] [footnote : "the laureat" says: "the things he calls verses, carry the most evident marks of their parent _colley_."--p. .] [footnote : _a line in the epilogue to the_ nonjuror.] [footnote : this allusion to time shows that cibber began his "apology" about .] [footnote : fielding has many extremely good attacks on cibber's style and language. for instance:-- "i shall here only obviate a flying report ... that whatever language it was writ in, it certainly could not be _english_.... now i shall prove it to be _english_ in the following manner. whatever book is writ in no other language, is writ in _english_. this book is writ in no other language, _ergo_, it is writ in _english_."--"champion," nd april, . again ("joseph andrews," book iii. chap. vi.), addressing the muse or genius that presides over biography, he says: "thou, who, without the assistance of the least spice of literature, and even against his inclination, hast, in some pages of his book, forced colley cibber to write english."] [footnote : in later editions the expression was changed to "she here outdid her usual excellence."] [footnote : "decies repetita placebit."--horace, _ars poetica_, .] [footnote : "for instance: when you rashly think, no rhymer can like welsted sink, his merits balanc'd, you shall find, the laureat leaves him far behind." swift, _on poetry: a rhapsody_, l. .] [footnote : "_frankly._ then for your reputation, if you won't bustle about it, and now and then give it these little helps of art, how can you hope to raise it? _author [cibber]._ if it can't live upon simple nature, let it die, and be damn'd! i shall give myself no further trouble about it."--"the egotist: or, colley upon cibber," p. .] [footnote : young's second "epistle to mr. pope."] [footnote : indirectly surely, william of wykeham being a priest.] [footnote : i am indebted to the courtesy of the head master of winchester college, the rev. dr. fearon, for the information that this statue, a finely designed and well-executed work, still stands over the door of the big school. a latin inscription states that it was presented by caius gabriel cibber in .] [footnote : bellchambers finds in this sentence "a levity, which accords with the charges so often brought against cibber of impiety and irreligion;" and he quotes from davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) two stories--one, that cibber spat at a picture of our saviour; and the other, that he endeavoured to enter into discussion with "honest mr. william whiston" with the intention of insulting him. both anecdotes seem to me rather foolish. i do not suppose cibber was in any sense a religious man, but his works are far from giving any offence to religion; and, as a paid supporter of a protestant succession, i think he was too prudent to be an open scoffer. a sentence in one of victor's "letters" (i. ), written from tunbridge, would seem to show that cibber at least preserved appearances. he says, "every one complies with what is called the _fashion_--_cibber_ goes constantly to _prayers_--and the curate (to return the compliment) as constantly, when prayers are over, to the _gaming table_!"] [footnote : by the kindness of a friend at cambridge i am enabled to give the following interesting extracts from a letter written by mr. william white, of trinity college library, regarding the statues here referred to: "they occupy the four piers, subdividing the balustrade on the east side of the library, overlooking neville's court. the four statues represent divinity, law, physic, and mathematics. that these were executed by mr. gabriel cibber our books will prove. i will give you two or three extracts from grumbold's account book, kept in the library. he was foreman of the works when the library was built. i think cibber cut the statues here. it is quite certain he and his men were here some time: no doubt they superintended the placing of them in their positions, at so great a height. 'payd for the carridg of a larg block stone given by john manning to ye coll. for one of ye figures : : .' 'may , . pd to mr gabriell cibber for cutting four statues : : .' ' june. pd to ye widdo bats for mr gabriel cibbers and his mens diatt : : . pd to mr martin [for the same] : : .'" in connection with these statues an amusing practical joke was played while byron was an undergraduate, which was attributed to him--unjustly, however, i believe.] [footnote : th november, .] [footnote : fielding, in "joseph andrews," book i. chap. i: "how artfully does the former [cibber] by insinuating that he escaped being promoted to the highest stations in the church and state, teach us a contempt of worldly grandeur! how strongly does he inculcate an absolute submission to our superiors!"] [footnote : fielding ("champion," th may, ): "not to mention our author's comparisons of himself to king _james_, the prince of _orange_, _alexander the great_, _charles_ the xiith, and _harry_ iv. of _france_, his favourite simile is a lion, thus _page_ , we have a satisfied presumption, that _to drive_ england _into slavery is like teaching_ an old lion to dance. . _our new critics are like lions whelps that dash down the bowls of milk &c._ besides a third allusion to the same animal: and this brings into my mind a story which i once heard from _booth_, that our biographer had, in one of his plays in a local simile, introduced this generous beast in some island or country where lions did not grow; of which being informed by the learned _booth_, the biographer replied, _prithee tell me then, where there is a lion, for god's curse, if there be a lion in_ europe, asia, africa, _or_ america, _i will not lose my simile_."] [footnote : lucretius, i. .] [footnote : john dennis, in an advertisement to "the invader of his country," , says, "'tis as easy for mr. _cibber_ at this time of day to make a bounce with his loyalty, as 'tis for a bully at sea, who had lain hid in the hold all the time of the fight, to come up and swagger upon the deck after the danger is over."] [footnote : "champion," th april, : "when in _page_ , we read, _beauty_ shines _into equal warmth the peasant and the courtier_, do we not know what he means though he hath made a verb active of shine, as in _page_ , he hath of regret, _nothing could more painfully regret a judicious spectator_."] [footnote : one of the commonest imputations made against cibber was that he was of a cowardly temper. in "common sense" for th june, , a paper attributed to lord chesterfield, there is a dissertation on kicking as a humorous incident on the stage. the writer adds: "of all the comedians who have appeared upon the stage within my memory, no one has taking (_sic_) a kicking with so much humour as our present most excellent laureat, and i am inform'd his son does not fall much short of him in this excellence; i am very glad of it, for as i have a kindness for the young man, i hope to see him as well kick'd as his father was before him." i confess that i am not quite sure how far this sentence is ironically meant, but bellchambers refers to it as conveying a serious accusation of cowardice. he also quotes from davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ), who relates, on the authority of victor, that cibber, having reduced bickerstaffe's salary by one-half, was waited upon by that actor, who "flatly told him, that as he could not subsist on the small sum to which he had reduced his salary, he must call the author of his distress to an account, for that it would be easier for him to lose his life than to starve. the affrighted cibber told him, he should receive an answer from him on saturday next. bickerstaffe found, on that day, his usual income was continued." this story rests only on victor's authority, but is, of course, not improbable. there is also a vague report that gay, in revenge for cibber's banter of "three hours after marriage," personally chastised him, but i know no good authority for the story.] [footnote : cibber ( st ed.) wrote: "new honours of duke of _devonshire_, lord steward," &c. he corrected his blunder in nd ed.] [footnote : see macaulay ("history," , vol. ii. p. ).] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) says: "cibber and verbruggen were two dissipated young fellows, who determined, in opposition to the advice of friends, to become great actors. much about the same time, they were constant attendants upon downes, the prompter of drury-lane, in expectation of employment."] [footnote : "the laureat" states that miss santlow (afterwards mrs. barton booth) was the actress referred to; that captain montague was her assailant, and mr. secretary craggs her defender.] [footnote : see memoir of william smith at end of second volume.] [footnote : see memoir.] [footnote : "as where's that palace whereinto foul things sometimes intrude not?"--"othello," act iii. sc. .] [footnote : captain griffin was, no doubt, the griffin who is mentioned by downes as entering the king's company "after they had begun at drury lane." this is of course very indefinite as regards time. drury lane was opened in , but the first character for which we can find griffin's name mentioned, is that of varnish in "the plain-dealer," which was produced in . at the union in , griffin took a good position in the amalgamated company, and continued on the stage till about , when his name disappears from the bills. during this time he is not called _captain,_ but in the name of captain griffin appears among the drury lane actors. genest says it is more probable that this should be griffin returned to the stage after thirteen years spent in the army, than that captain griffin should have gone on the stage without having previously been connected with it. in this genest is quite correct, for the anecdote of goodman and griffin, which cibber tells in chap. xii. shows conclusively that _captain_ griffin was an actor during goodman's stage-career, which ended certainly before . he appears to have finally retired about the beginning of . downes says "_mr._ griffin _so excell'd in_ surly. sir edward belfond, _the_ plain dealer, _none succeeding in the former have equall'd him_, [nor any] _except his predecessor mr._ hart _in the latter_" (p. ). i have ventured to supply the two words "nor any" to make clear what downes must have meant.] [footnote : the "biographia dramatica" (i. ) gives an account of james carlile. he was a native of lancashire, and in his youth was an actor; but he left the stage for the army, and was killed at the battle of aughrim, th july, . nothing practically is known of his stage career. downes (p. ) notes that at the union of the patents in , "mr. _monfort_ and mr. _carlile_, were grown to the maturity of good _actors_." i cannot trace carlile's name in the bills any later than .] [footnote : wiltshire seems to have been a very useful actor of the second rank. in he also appears for the last time.] [footnote : that ben jonson was an unsuccessful actor is gravely doubted by gifford and by his latest editor, lieut.-col. cunningham, who give excellent reasons in support of their view. see memoir prefixed to edition of jonson, , i. xi.] [footnote : sir william davenant was the son of a vintner and innkeeper at oxford. it was said that shakespeare used frequently to stay at the inn, and a story accordingly was manufactured that william davenant was in fact the son of the poet through an amour with mrs. davenant. but of this there is no shadow of proof. davenant went to oxford, but made no special figure as a scholar, winning fame, however, as a poet and dramatist. on the death of ben jonson in he was appointed poet-laureate, and in received a licence from charles i. to get together a company of players. in the civil war he greatly distinguished himself, and was knighted by the king for his bravery. before the restoration davenant was permitted by cromwell to perform some sort of theatrical pieces at rutland house, in charter-house yard, where "the siege of rhodes" was played about . at the restoration a patent was granted to him in august, , and he engaged rhodes's company of players, including betterton, kynaston, underhill, and nokes. another patent was granted to him, dated th january, , (see copy of patent given _ante,_) under which he managed the theatre in lincoln's inn fields till his death in . davenant's company were called the duke's players. the changes which were made in the conduct of the stage during davenant's career, such as the introduction of elaborate scenery and the first appearance of women in plays, make it one of the first interest and importance. (see mr. joseph knight's preface to his recent edition of the "roscius anglicanus.")] [footnote : thomas killigrew (not "henry" killigrew, as cibber erroneously writes) was a very noted and daring humorist. he was a faithful adherent of king charles i., and at the restoration was made a groom of the bedchamber. he also received a patent, dated th april, , to raise a company of actors to be called the king's players. these acted at the theatre royal in drury lane. killigrew survived the union of the two companies in , dying on the th of march, . he cannot be said to have made much mark in theatrical history. the best anecdote of killigrew is that related by granger, how he waited on charles ii. one day dressed like a pilgrim bound on a long journey. when the king asked him whither he was going, he replied, "to hell, to fetch back oliver cromwell to take care of england, for his successor takes none at all."] [footnote : it is curious to note that this theatre, which occupied the same site as the present drury lane, was sometimes described as drury lane, sometimes as covent garden.] [footnote : should be lincoln's inn fields. dorset garden, which was situated in salisbury court, fleet street, was not opened till .] [footnote : genest (ii. ) remarks on this: "how long this lasted does not appear--it appears however that it lasted to queen anne's time, as the alteration of 'wit without money' is dedicated to thomas newman, servant to her majesty, one of the gentlemen of the great chamber, and book-keeper and prompter to her majesty's company of comedians in the haymarket." dr. doran in his "their majesties' servants" ( edition, iii. ), says that he was informed by benjamin webster that baddeley was the last actor who wore the uniform of scarlet and gold prescribed for the gentlemen of the household, who were patented actors.] [footnote : the question of the identity of the first english actress is a very intricate one. mr. percy fitzgerald, in his "new history of the english stage," seems to incline to favour anne marshall, while mr. joseph knight, in his edition of the "roscius anglicanus," pronounces for mrs. coleman. davies says positively that "the first woman actress was the mother of norris, commonly called jubilee dicky." thomas jordan wrote a prologue "to introduce the first woman that came to act on the stage," but as the lady's name is not given, this does not help us. the distinction is also claimed for mrs. saunderson (afterwards mrs. betterton) and margaret hughes. but since mr. knight has shown that the performances in at rutland house, where mrs. coleman appeared, were for money, i do not see that we can escape from the conclusion that this lady was the first english professional actress. who the first actress after the restoration was is as yet unsettled.] [footnote : meaning, no doubt, nell gwyn and moll davis.] [footnote : genest points out (i. ) that cibber is not quite accurate here. shakespeare's and fletcher's plays _may_ have been shared; jonson's certainly were not.] [footnote : see memoir of hart at end of second volume.] [footnote : genest says that this regulation "might be very proper at the first restoration of the stage; but as a perpetual rule it was absurd. cibber approves of it, not considering that betterton could never have acted othello, brutus, or hotspur (the very parts for which cibber praises him so much) if there had not been a junction of the companies." bellchambers, in a long note, also contests cibber's opinion.] [footnote : in the season - , in addition to the two patent theatres, drury lane and covent garden, giffard was playing at goodman's fields theatre, and fielding, with his great mogul's company of comedians, occupied the haymarket. in - giffard played at the lincoln's-inn-fields theatre, and goodman's fields was unused. the licensing act of closed the two irregular houses, leaving only drury lane and covent garden open.] [footnote : cibber here refers to the pantomimes, which he deals with at some length in chapter xv.] [footnote : fielding ("champion," th may, ): "another observation which i have made on our author's similies is, that they generally have an eye towards the kitchen. thus, _page , two play-houses are like two_ puddings _or two_ legs of mutton. _ . to plant young actors is not so easy as to plant_ cabbages. to which let me add a metaphor in _page _, where _unprofitable praise can hardly give truth a_ soup maigre."] [footnote : "dramatic operas" seem to have been first produced about . in "the tempest," made into an opera by shadwell, was played at dorset garden; "pysche" followed in the next year, and "circe" in . "macbeth," as altered by davenant, was produced in , "in the nature of an opera," as downes phrases it.] [footnote : dryden, in his "prologue on the opening of the new house" in , writes:-- "'twere folly now a stately pile to raise, to build a playhouse while you throw down plays; while scenes, machines, and empty operas reign----" and the prologue concludes with the lines:-- "'tis to be feared---- that, as a fire the former house o'erthrew, machines and tempests will destroy the new." the allusion in the last line is to the opera of "the tempest," which i have mentioned in the previous note.] [footnote : "probitas laudatur et alget." juvenal, i. .] [footnote : in the prologue to "the emperor of the moon," , the line occurred: "there's nothing lasting but the puppet-show."] [footnote : "ita populus studio stupidus in funambulo animum occuparat." terence, _prol. to "hecyra,"_ line .] [footnote : see memoir of michael mohun at end of second volume.] [footnote : see memoir of cardell goodman at end of second volume.] [footnote : of clark very little is known. the earliest play in which his name is given by downes is "the plain-dealer," which was produced at the theatre royal in , clark playing novel, a part of secondary importance. his name appears to massina in "sophonisba," hephestion in "alexander the great," dolabella in "all for love," aquitius in "mythridates," and (his last recorded part) the earl of essex, the principal character in "the unhappy favourite," theatre royal, . after the union of the companies in his name does not occur. bellchambers has several trifling errors in the memoir he gives of this actor.] [footnote : curll ("history of the english stage," p. ) says: "the feuds and animosities of the king's _company_ were so well improved, as to produce an union betwixt the two patents."] [footnote : cibber gives the year as , but this is so obviously a slip that i venture to correct the text.] [footnote : genest (ii. ) remarks: "the theatre in dorset garden had been built by subscription--the subscribers were called adventurers--of this cibber seems totally ignorant--that there were any new adventurers, added to the original number, rests solely on his authority, and in all probability he is not correct."] [footnote : cibber afterwards relates the connection of owen swiney, william collier, m.p., and sir richard steele, with himself and his actor-partners.] [footnote : the only one of cibber's contemporaries of any note who was alive when the "apology" was published, was benjamin johnson. this admirable comedian died in august, , in his seventy-seventh year, having played as late as the end of may of that year.] [footnote : the actor pointed at is, no doubt, wilks. in the last chapter of this work cibber, in giving the theatrical character of wilks, says of his hamlet: "i own the half of what he spoke was as painful to my ear, as every line that came from betterton was charming."] [footnote : barton booth, who was probably as great in the part of the ghost as betterton was in hamlet, said, "when i acted the ghost with betterton, instead of my awing him, he terrified me. but divinity hung round that man!"--"dram. misc.," iii. .] [footnote : "the laureat" repeats the eulogium of a gentleman who had seen betterton play hamlet, and adds: "and yet, the same gentleman assured me, he has seen mr. _betterton_, more than once, play this character to an audience of twenty pounds, or under" (p. ).] [footnote : _ars poetica_, . this is the much discussed question of diderot's "paradoxe sur le comédien," which has recently been revived by mr. henry irving and m. coquelin, and has formed the subject of some interesting studies by mr. william archer.] [footnote : this is doubtless directed at booth, who was naturally of an indolent disposition, and seems to have been, on occasions, apt to drag through a part.] [footnote : ausonius, ii, (_epigram_, xi.).] [footnote : "alexander the great; or, the rival queens," act ii. sc. .] [footnote : bellchambers notes on this passage: "the criticisms of cibber upon a literary subject are hardly worth the trouble of confuting, and yet it may be mentioned that bishop warburton adduced these lines as containing not only the most sublime, but the most judicious imagery that poetry can conceive. if le brun, or any other artist, could not succeed in pourtraying the terrors of fortune, it conveys, perhaps, the highest possible compliment to the powers of lee, to admit that he has mastered a difficulty beyond the most daring aspirations of an accomplished painter." with all respect to warburton and bellchambers, i cannot help remarking that this last sentence seems to me perilously like nonsense.] [footnote : i can find no record of this revival, nor am i aware that any other authority than cibber mentions it. i am unable therefore even to guess at a date.] [footnote : in , in betterton's own company at the haymarket, verbruggen played alexander. at drury lane, in , wilks had played the part.] [footnote : anthony aston says that his voice "enforced universal attention even from the fops and orange girls."] [footnote : anthony aston says of mrs. barry: "neither she, nor any of the actors of those times, had any tone in their speaking, (too much, lately, in use.)" but the line of criticism which cibber takes up here would lead to the conclusion that aston is not strictly accurate; and, moreover, i can scarcely imagine how, if these older actors used no "tone," the employment of it should have been so general as it certainly was a few years after betterton's death. victor ("history," ii. ) writes of "the good old manner of singing and quavering out their tragic notes," and on the same page mentions cibber's "quavering tragedy tones." my view, also, is confirmed by the facts that in the preface to "the fairy queen," , it is said: "he must be a very ignorant player, who knows not there is a musical cadence in speaking; and that a man may as well speak out of tune, as sing out of tune;" and that aaron hill, in his dedication of "the fatal vision," , reprobates the "affected, vicious, and unnatural tone of voice, so common on the stage at that time." see genest, iv. - . an admirable description of this method of reciting is given by cumberland ("memoirs," nd edition, i. ): "mrs. cibber in a key, high-pitched but sweet withal, sung, or rather recitatived rowe's harmonious strain, something in the manner of the improvisatories: it was so extremely wanting in contrast, that, though it did not wound the ear, it wearied it." cumberland is writing of mrs. cibber in the earlier part of her career ( ), when the teaching of her husband's father, colley cibber, influenced her acting: no doubt garrick, who exploded the old way of speaking, made her ultimately modify her style. yet as she was, even in , a very distinguished pathetic actress, we are forced to the conclusion that the old style must have been more effective than we are disposed to believe.] [footnote : as dr. johnson puts it in his famous prologue ( ):-- "ah! let no censure term our fate our choice, the stage but echoes back the public voice; the drama's laws the drama's patrons give, for we, that live to please, must please to live."] [footnote : "amphytrion" was played in . the dedication is dated th october, .] [footnote : downes ("roscius anglicanus," p. ) relates lee's misadventure, which he attributes to stage-fright. he says of otway the poet, that on his first appearance "_the full house put him to such a sweat and tremendous agony, being dash't, spoilt him for an actor. mr._ nat. lee, _had the same fate in acting_ duncan _in_ macbeth, _ruin'd him for an actor too_."] [footnote : see memoir of estcourt at end of second volume.] [footnote : it will be remembered that the elder mathews, the most extraordinary mimic of modern times, had this same power in great perfection. see his "memoirs," iii. - .] [footnote : cibber has been charged with gross unfairness to estcourt, and his unfavourable estimate of him has been attributed to envy; but estcourt's ability seems to have been at least questionable. this matter will be found treated at some length in the memoir of estcourt in the appendix to this work.] [footnote : "his voice was low and grumbling."--anthony aston.] [footnote : in otway's tragedy of "the orphan," produced at dorset garden in , betterton was the original castalio.] [footnote : see memoir of betterton at end of second volume.] [footnote : th april, .] [footnote : in the "tatler," no. , in which the famous criticism of betterton's excellencies is given, his funeral is stated to have taken place on nd may, .] [footnote : i do not know whether cibber in making this remark had in view gildon's life of betterton, in which there are twenty pages of memoir to one hundred and fifty of dissertation on acting.] [footnote : this seems to have been done to a very limited extent. the first unquestionable date on which, after , women appeared is rd january, , when pepys saw "the beggar's bush" at the theatre, that is, killigrew's house, and notes, "and here the first time that ever i saw women come upon the stage." at the same theatre he had seen the same play on th november, , the female parts being then played by men. thomas jordan wrote "_a prologue, to introduce the first woman that came to act on the stage, in the tragedy called_ the moor of venice" (quoted by malone, "shakespeare," , iii. ), and malone supposes justly as i think, that this was on th december, ; on which date, in all probability, the first woman appeared on the stage after the restoration. who she was we do not know. see _ante_, p. . on th january, , kynaston played epicoene in "the silent woman," and on th january, , pepys saw "the scornful lady," "now done by a woman." on the th of the same month pepys had seen the latter play with a man in the chief part, so that it is almost certain that the "boy-actresses" disappeared about the beginning of .] [footnote : "the laureat" (p. ): "i am of opinion, _booth_ was not wrong in this. there are many of the sentiments in this character, where nature and common sense are outraged; and an actor, who shou'd give the full comic utterance to them in his delivery, would raise what they call a _horse-laugh_, and turn it into burlesque." on the other hand, theophilus cibber, in his life of booth, p. , supports his father's opinion, saying:-- "the remark is just--mr. _booth_ would sometimes slur over such bold sentiments, so flightily delivered by the poet. as he was good-natured--and would 'hear each man's censure, yet reserve his judgment,'--i once took the liberty of observing, that he had neglected (as i thought) giving that kind of spirited turn in the afore-mentioned character--he told me i was mistaken; it was not negligence, but design made him so slightly pass them over:--for though, added he, in these places one might raise a laugh of approbation in a few,--yet there is nothing more unsafe than exciting the laugh of simpletons, who never know when or where to stop; and, as the majority are not always the wisest part of an audience,--i don't chuse to run the hazard."] [footnote : a long account of the production of "cato" is given by cibber in chap. xiv. from the cast quoted in a note, it will be seen that cibber himself was the original syphax.] [footnote : "the laureat" (p. ): "i have seen the original _syphax_ in _cato_, use many ridiculous distortions, crack in his voice, and wreathe his muscles and his limbs, which created not a smile of approbation, but a loud laugh of contempt and ridicule on the actor." on page : "in my opinion, the part of _syphax_, as it was originally play'd, was the only part in _cato_ not tolerably executed."] [footnote : bellchambers on this passage has one of those aggravating notes, in which he seems to try to blacken cibber as much as possible. i confess that i can see nothing of the "venom" he resents so vigorously. he says:-- "theophilus cibber, in the tract already quoted, expressly states, that booth 'was not so scrupulously nice or timerous' in this character, as in that to which our author has invidiously referred. i shall give the passage, for its powerful antidote to colley's venom:-- "mr. _booth_, in this part, though he gave full scope to the humour, never dropped the dignity of the character--you laughed at _henry_, but lost not your respect for him.--when he appeared most familiar, he was by no means vulgar.--the people most about him felt the ease they enjoyed was owing to his condescension.--he maintained the monarch.--_hans holbein_ never gave a higher picture of him than did the actor (_booth_) in his representation. when angry, his eye spoke majestic terror; the noblest and the bravest of his courtiers were awe-struck--he gave you the full idea of that arbitrary prince, who thought himself born to be obeyed;--the boldest dared not to dispute his commands:--he appeared to claim a right divine to exert the power he imperiously assumed.' (p. )." ] [footnote : "spirat tragicum satis et feliciter audet." hor. _epis._ ii. i, .] [footnote : "aurenge-zebe; or, the great mogul," act iv.] [footnote : kynaston was the original morat at the theatre royal in ; hart the aurenge-zebe.] [footnote : "king henry iv.," first part, act i. sc. .] [footnote : see memoir of kynaston at end of second volume.] [footnote : downes spells mountfort's name monfort and mounfort.] [footnote : "spanish friar," act ii. sc. .] [footnote : willmore, in mrs. behn's "rover," of which smith was the original representative.] [footnote : in crowne's "sir courtly nice," produced at the theatre royal in .] [footnote : william mountfort was born in or . he became a member of the duke's company as a boy, and downes says that in he had grown to the maturity of a good actor. in the "counterfeits," licensed th august, , the boy is played by young _mumford_, and in "the revenge," produced in , the same name stands to the part of jack, the barber's boy. after the union in he made rapid progress, for he played his great character of sir courtly nice as early as . in this cibber gives him the highest praise; and downes says, "sir courtly was so nicely perform'd, that not any succeeding, but mr. _cyber_ has equall'd him." mountfort was killed by one captain hill, aided, it is supposed, by the lord mohun who died in that terrible duel with the duke of hamilton, in , in which they hacked each other to death. whether hill murdered mountfort or killed him in fair fight is a doubtful point. (see doran's "their majesties' servants," edition, i. - ; see also memoir at end of second volume.)] [footnote : creon (dryden and lee's "oedipus"); malignii (porter's "villain"); machiavil (lee's "cæsar borgia").] [footnote : the "tatler," no. : "i must own, there is something very horrid in the publick executions of an _english_ tragedy. stabbing and poisoning, which are performed behind the scenes in other nations, must be done openly among us to gratify the audience. when poor _sandford_ was upon the stage, i have seen him groaning upon a wheel, stuck with daggers, impaled alive, calling his executioners, with a dying voice, cruel dogs, and villains! and all this to please his judicious spectators, who were wonderfully delighted with seeing a man in torment so well acted."] [footnote : bellchambers notes: "this anecdote has more vivacity than truth, for the audience were too much accustomed to see sandford in parts of even a comic nature, to testify the impatience or disappointment which mr. cibber has described." i may add that i have been unable to discover any play to which the circumstances mentioned by cibber would apply. but it must not be forgotten that, if the play were damned as completely as cibber says, it would probably not be printed, and we should thus in all probability have no record of it.] [footnote : probably the earl of shaftesbury.] [footnote : macready seems to have held something like this view regarding "villains." at the present time we have no such prejudices, for one of the most popular of english actors, mr. e. s. willard, owes his reputation chiefly to his wonderfully vivid presentation of villainy.] [footnote : the play in question is "the triumphs of virtue," produced at drury lane in , and the actress is mrs. rogers, who afterwards lived with wilks. the lines in the epilogue are:-- "i'll pay this duteous gratitude; i'll do that which the play has done--i'll copy you. at your own virtue's shrine my vows i'll pay, study to live the character i play."] [footnote : chetwood gives a short memoir of this "first-born," who became the wife of christopher bullock, and died in . mrs. dyer was the only child of mrs. bullock's mentioned by chetwood.] [footnote : see memoir of sandford at end of second volume.] [footnote : it is a very common mistake to state that cibber founded his playing of richard iii. on that of sandford. he merely says that he tried to act the part as he knew sandford _would_ have played it.] [footnote : cibber's adaptation, which has held the stage ever since its production, was first played at drury lane in . genest (ii. - ) gives an exhaustive account of cibber's mutilation. his opinion of it may be gathered from these sentences: "one has no wish to disturb cibber's own tragedies in their tranquil graves, but while our indignation continues to be excited by the frequent representation of richard the d in so disgraceful a state, there can be no peace between the friends of unsophisticated shakspeare and cibber." "to the advocates for cibber's richard i only wish to make one request--that they would never say a syllable in favour of shakspeare."] [footnote : "the laureat" (p. ): "this same mender of shakespear chose the principal part, _viz. the king_, for himself; and accordingly being invested with the purple robe, he screamed thro' four acts without dignity or decency. the audience ill-pleas'd with the farce, accompany'd him with a smile of contempt, but in the fifth act, he degenerated all at once into sir _novelty_; and when in the heat of the battle at _bosworth field_, the king is dismounted, our comic-tragedian came on the stage, really breathless, and in a seeming panick, screaming out this line thus--_a harse, a harse, my kingdom for a harse_. this highly delighted some, and disgusted others of his auditors; and when he was kill'd by _richmond_, one might plainly perceive that the good people were not better pleas'd that so _execrable a tyrant_ was destroy'd, than that so _execrable an actor_ was silent."] [footnote : james noke, or nokes--not _robert_, as bellchambers states. of robert nokes little is known. downes mentions both actors among rhodes's original company, robert playing male characters, and james being one of the "boy-actresses." downes does not distinguish between them at all, simply mentioning "mr. nokes" as playing particular parts. robert nokes died about , so that we are certain that the famous brother was james.] [footnote : "the comical revenge; or, love in a tub."] [footnote : of these plays, "the spanish friar," "the soldier's fortune," and "amphytrion" were produced after robert nokes's death.] [footnote : see memoir of james nokes at end of second volume.] [footnote : "_coligni_, the character alluded to, at the original representation of this play, was sustained, says downs, 'by that inimitable sprightly actor, mr. price,--especially in this part.' joseph price joined d'avenant's company on rhodes's resignation, being one of 'the new actors,' according to the 'roscius anglicanus,' who were 'taken in to complete' it. he is first mentioned for _guildenstern_, in 'hamlet;' and, in succession, for _leonel_, in d'avenant's 'love and honour,' on which occasion the earl of oxford gave him his coronation-suit; for _paris_, in 'romeo and juliet;' the _corregidor_, in tuke's 'adventures of five hours;' and _coligni_, as already recorded. in the year , by speaking a 'short comical prologue' to the 'rivals,' introducing some 'very diverting dances,' mr. price 'gained him an universal applause of the town.' the versatility of this actor must have been great, or the necessities of the company imperious, as we next find him set down for _lord sands_, in 'king henry the eighth.' he then performed _will_, in the 'cutter of coleman-street,' and is mentioned by downs as being dead, in the year ." the above is bellchambers's note. he is wrong in stating that price played the corregidor in tuke's "adventures of five hours;" his part was silvio. he omits, too, to mention one of price's best parts, dufoy, in "love in a tub," in which downes specially commends him in this queer couplet:-- "sir nich'las, sir fred'rick; widow and dufoy, were not by any so well done, mafoy." price does not seem to have acted after may, , when the theatres closed for the plague, for his name is never mentioned by downes after the theatres re-opened in november, , after the plague and fire.] [footnote : "sir solomon; or, the cautious coxcomb," by john caryll.] [footnote : by otway.] [footnote : by shadwell.] [footnote : "rest" is a term used in tennis, and seems to have meant a quick and continued returning of the ball from one player to the other--what is in lawn tennis called a "rally." cibber uses the word in his "careless husband," act iv. sc. . "_lady betty_ [to lord morelove]. nay, my lord, there's no standing against two of you. _lord foppington._ no, faith, that's odds at tennis, my lord: not but if your ladyship pleases, i'll endeavour to keep your back-hand a little; though upon my soul you may safely set me up at the line: for, knock me down, if ever i saw a rest of wit better played, than that last, in my life." in the only dictionary in which i have found this word "rest," it is given as "a match, a game;" but, as i think i have shown, this is a defective explanation. i may add that, since writing the above, i have been favoured with the opinion of mr. julian marshall, the distinguished authority on tennis, who confirms my view.] [footnote : by durfey.] [footnote : bartoline. genest suggests that this character was intended for the whig lawyer, serjeant maynard. the play was written by crowne.] [footnote : see memoir of pinkethman at end of second volume.] [footnote : in this farce, written by mrs. behn, and produced in , jevon was the original harlequin. pinkethman played the part in , and played it without the mask on th september, . the "daily courant" of that date contains an advertisement in which it is stated that "at the desire of some persons of quality ... will be presented a comedy, call'd, _the emperor of the moon_, wherein mr. _penkethman_ acts the part of _harlequin_ without a masque, for the entertainment of an _african_ prince lately arrived here."] [footnote : this refers to "art and nature," a comedy by james miller, produced at drury lane th february, . the principal character in "harlequin sauvage" was introduced into it and played by theophilus cibber. the piece was damned the first night, but it must not be forgotten that the templars damned everything of miller's on account of his supposed insult to them in his farce of "the coffee house." bellchambers says the piece referred to by cibber was "the savage," vo, ; but this does not seem ever to have been acted.] [footnote : this probably refers to the incident related by davies in his "dramatic miscellanies":--"in the play of the 'recruiting officer,' wilks was the captain _plume_, and pinkethman one of the recruits. the captain, when he enlisted him, asked his name: instead of answering as he ought, pinkey replied, 'why! don't you know my name, bob? i thought every fool had known that!' wilks, in rage, whispered to him the name of the recruit, _thomas appletree_. the other retorted aloud, '_thomas appletree_? thomas devil! my name is will pinkethman:' and, immediately addressing an inhabitant of the upper regions, he said 'hark you, friend; don't you know my name?'--'yes, master pinkey,' said a respondent, 'we know it very well.' the play-house was now in an uproar: the audience, at first, enjoyed the petulant folly of pinkethman, and the distress of wilks; but, in the progress of the joke, it grew tiresome, and pinkey met with his deserts, a very severe reprimand in a hiss; and this mark of displeasure he changed into applause, by crying out, with a countenance as melancholy as he could make it, in a loud and nasal twang, 'odso! i fear i am wrong'" (iii. ).] [footnote : see memoir of leigh at end of second volume.] [footnote : by shadwell.] [footnote : underhill seems to have partially retired about the beginning of . he played sir joslin jolley on th december, , but bullock played it on th january, , and, two days after, johnson played underhill's part of the first gravedigger. underhill, however, played in "the rover" on th january, . the benefit cibber refers to took place on rd june, . underhill played the gravedigger again on rd february, , and on th may, , for his benefit, he played trincalo in "the tempest." genest says he acted at greenwich on th august, . the advertisement in the "tatler" ( th may, ) runs: "mr. cave underhill, the famous comedian in the reigns of k. charles ii. k. james ii. k. william and q. mary, and her present majesty q. anne; but now not able to perform so often as heretofore in the play-house, and having had losses to the value of near £ , , is to have the tragedy of hamlet acted for his benefit, on friday the third of june next, at the theatre-royal in drury-lane, in which he is to perform his original part, the grave-maker. tickets may be had at the mitre-tavern in fleet-street." see also memoir of underhill at end of second volume.] [footnote : see memoir of powel at end of second volume.] [footnote : john verbruggen, whose name downes spells "vanbruggen," "vantbrugg," and "verbruggen," is first recorded as having played termagant in "the squire of alsatia," at the theatre royal, in . his name last appears in august, , and he must have died not long after. on th april, , a benefit was announced for "a young orphan child of the late mr. and mrs. verbruggen." he seems to have been an actor of great natural power, but inartistic in method. see what anthony aston says of him. cibber unfairly, as we must think, seems carefully to avoid mentioning him as of any importance. "the laureat," p. , says: "i wonder, considering our author's particularity of memory, that he hardly ever mentions mr. _verbruggen_, who was in many characters an excellent actor.... i cannot conceive why _verbruggen_ is left out of the number of his excellent actors; whether some latent grudge, _alta mente repostum_, has robb'd him of his immortality in this work." see also memoir of verbruggen at end of second volume.] [footnote : see memoir of williams at end of second volume.] [footnote : produced at the theatre royal in .] [footnote : in chapter ix. of this work cibber gives an elaborate account of mrs. oldfield. he remarks there that, after her joining the company, "she remain'd about a twelvemonth almost a mute, and unheeded."] [footnote : see memoir of mrs. barry at end of second volume.] [footnote : in "the orphan," produced at dorset garden in , and in "venice preserved," produced at the same theatre in .] [footnote : in "the rival queens." mrs. marshall was the original roxana, at the theatre royal in . so far as we know, mrs. barry had not played cleopatra (dryden's "all for love") when dryden wrote the eulogy cibber quotes. mrs. boutell originally acted the part, theatre royal, .] [footnote : bellchambers contradicts cibber, saying that the agreement of th october, [see memoir of hart], shows that benefits existed then. the words referred to are, "the day the young men or young women play for their own profit only." but this day set aside for the young people playing was, i think, quite a different matter from a benefit to a particular performer. pepys ( st march, ) says, "the young men and women of the house ... having liberty to act for their own profit on wednesdays and fridays this lent." these were evidently "scratch" performances on "off" nights; and it is to these, i think, that the agreement quoted refers.] [footnote : as dr. doran points out ("their majesties' servants," edition, i. ) this does not settle the question so easily as cibber supposes. twelve tory peers were created by queen anne in the last few days of , and mrs. barry did not die till the end of .] [footnote : see memoir of mrs. betterton at end of second volume.] [footnote : downes includes mrs. leigh among the recruits to the duke's company about . he does not give her maiden name, but genest supposes she may have been the daughter of dixon, one of rhodes's company. as there are two actresses of the name of mrs. leigh, and one mrs. lee, and as no reliance can be placed on the spelling of names in the casts of plays, it is practically impossible to decide accurately the parts each played. this mrs. leigh seems to have been elizabeth, and her name does not appear after , the eli. leigh who signed the petition to queen anne in being probably a younger woman. bellchambers has a most inaccurate note regarding mrs. leigh, stating that she "is probably not a distinct person from mrs. mary lee."] [footnote : mrs. charlotte butler is mentioned by downes as entering the duke's company about the year . by she occupied an important position as an actress, and in her name appears to the part of la pupsey in durfey's "marriage-hater matched." this piece must have been produced early in the year, for ashbury, by whom, as cibber relates, she was engaged for dublin, opened his season on rd march, . hitchcock, in his "view of the irish stage," describes her as "an actress of great repute, and a prodigious favourite with king charles the second" (i. ).] [footnote : chetwood gives a long account of joseph ashbury. he was born in , and served for some years in the army. by the favour of the duke of ormond, then lord lieutenant, ashbury was appointed successively deputy-master and master of the revels in ireland. the latter appointment he seems to have received in , though hitchcock says " ." ashbury managed the dublin theatre with propriety and success, and was considered not only the principal actor in his time there, but the best teacher of acting in the three kingdoms. chetwood, who saw him in his extreme old age, pronounced him admirable both in tragedy and comedy. he died in , at the great age of eighty-two.] [footnote : this artistic sense was shown also by margaret woffington. davies ("life of garrick," th edition, i. ) writes: "in mrs. day, in the committee, she made no scruple to disguise her beautiful countenance, by drawing on it the lines of deformity and the wrinkles of old age, and to put on the tawdry habiliments and vulgar manners of an old hypocritical city vixen."] [footnote : in "the scornful lady."] [footnote : "the bath; or, the western lass," produced at drury lane in .] [footnote : it is curious to compare with this anthony aston's outspoken criticism on mrs. mountfort's personal appearance.] [footnote : anthony aston says "melantha was her master-piece." dryden's comedy was produced at the theatre royal in , when mrs. boutell played melantha.] [footnote : act ii. scene .] [footnote : mrs. mountfort, originally mrs. (that is miss) percival, and afterwards mrs. verbruggen, is first mentioned as the representative of winifrid, a young welsh jilt, in "sir barnaby whigg," a comedy produced at the theatre royal in . as diana, in "the lucky chance" ( ), genest gives her name as mrs. mountfort, late mrs. percival; so that her marriage with mountfort must have taken place about the end of or beginning of . mountfort was killed in , and in the part of mary the buxom, in "don quixote," part first, is recorded by genest as played by mrs. verbruggen, late mrs. mountfort. in , in the "comparison between the two stages," gildon pronounces her "a miracle." in she died. she was the original representative of, among other characters, nell, in "devil of a wife;" belinda, in "the old bachelor;" lady froth, in "the double dealer;" charlott welldon, in "oroonoko;" berinthia, in "relapse;" lady lurewell; lady brumpton, in "the funeral;" hypolita, in "she would and she would not;" and hillaria, in "tunbridge walks."] [footnote : bellchambers has here a most uncharitable note, which i quote as curious, though i must add that there is not a shadow of proof of the truth of it. "mrs. bracegirdle was decidedly not 'unguarded' in her conduct, for though the object of general suspicion, no proof of positive unchastity was ever brought against her. her intrigue with mountfort, who lost his life in consequence of it,{a} is hardly to be disputed, and there is pretty ample evidence that congreve was honoured with a gratification of his amorous desires.{b} {subnote a: "'we had not parted with him as many minutes as a man may beget his likeness in, but who should we meet but mountfort the player, looking as pale as a ghost, sailing forward as gently as a caterpillar 'cross a sycamore leaf, gaping for a little air, like a sinner just come out of the powdering-tub, crying out as he crept towards us, "o my back! confound 'em for a pack of brimstones: o my back!"--"how now, _sir courtly_," said i, "what the devil makes thee in this pickle?"--"o, gentlemen," says he, "i am glad to see you; but i am troubled with such a weakness in my back, that it makes me bend like a superannuated fornicator." "some strain," said i, "got in the other world, with overheaving yourself."--"what matters it how 'twas got," says he; "can you tell me anything that's good for it?" "yes," said i; "get a warm girdle and tie round you; 'tis an excellent corroborative to strengthen the loins."--"pox on you," says he, "for a bantering dog! how can a single _girdle_ do me good, when a _brace_ was my destruction?"'--brown's 'letters from the dead to the living' [ , ii. ].} {subnote b: "in one of those infamous collections known by the name of 'poems on state affairs' [iv. ], there are several obvious, though coarse and detestable, hints of this connexion. collier's severity against the stage is thus sarcastically deprecated, in a short piece called the 'benefits of a theatre.' shall a place be put down, when we see it affords _fit wives for great poets_, and whores for great lords? since _angelica_, bless'd with a singular grace, had, by her fine acting, preserv'd all his plays, in an amorous rapture, young _valentine_ said, one so fit for his plays might be fit for his bed. "the allusion to congreve and mrs. bracegirdle wants, of course, no corroboration; but the hint at their marriage, broached in the half line i have italicised, is a curious though unauthorized fact. from the verses i shall continue to quote, it will appear that this marriage between the parties, though thought to be private, was currently believed; it is an expedient that has often been used, in similar cases, to cover the nakedness of outrageous lust. he warmly pursues her, she yielded her charms, and bless'd the kind youngster in her kinder arms: but at length the poor nymph did for justice implore, and _he's married her now_, though he'd ---- her before. "on a subsequent page of the same precious miscellany, there is a most offensive statement of the cause which detached our great comic writer from the object of his passion. the thing is too filthy to be even described."}] [footnote : rowe and congreve.] [footnote : in congreve's "way of the world."] [footnote : cibber's chronology is a little shaky here. mrs. bracegirdle's name appeared for the last time in the bill of th february, . betterton's benefit, for which she returned to the stage for one night, took place on th april, .] [footnote : mrs. anne bracegirdle made her first appearance on the stage as a very young child. in the cast of otway's "orphan," , the part of cordelio, polydore's page, is said to be played by "the little girl," who, curll ("history," p. ) informs us, was anne bracegirdle, then less than six years of age. in her name appears to the part of lucia in "the squire of alsatia;" but it is not till that she can be said to have regularly entered upon her career as an actress. she was the original representative of some of the most famous heroines in comedy: araminta, in "the old bachelor;" cynthia, in "the double dealer;" angelica, in "love for love;" belinda, in "the provoked wife;" millamant; flippanta, in "the confederacy," and many others. mrs. bracegirdle appears to have been a good and excellent woman, as well as a great actress. all the scandal about her seems to have had no further foundation than, to quote genest, "the extreme difficulty with which an actress at this period of the stage must have preserved her chastity." genest goes on to remark, with delicious _naïveté_, "mrs. bracegirdle was perhaps a woman of a cold constitution." her retirement from the stage when not much over thirty is accounted for by curll, by a story of a competition between her and mrs. oldfield in the part of mrs. brittle in "the amorous widow," in which the latter was the more applauded. he says that they played the part on two successive nights; but i have carefully examined dr. burney's mss. in the british museum for the season - , and "the amorous widow" was certainly not played twice successively. i doubt the story altogether. that mrs. bracegirdle retired because mrs. oldfield was excelling her in popular estimation is most likely, but i can find no confirmation whatever for curll's story. "the laureat," p. , attributes her retirement to mrs. oldfield's being "preferr'd to some parts before her, by our very _apologist_"; but though the reason thus given is probably accurate, the person blamed is as probably guiltless; for i do not think cibber could have sufficient authority to distribute parts in - . mrs. bracegirdle died september, , but was dead to the stage from . cibber's remark on p. had therefore no reference to her.] [footnote : cibber writes here with feeling; for, after his "nonjuror" abused the jacobites and nonjurors, that party took every opportunity of revenging themselves on him by maltreating his plays.] [footnote : see _ante_, p. , for an allusion to this passage by fielding in "the champion."] [footnote : Ã�neid, i. .] [footnote : this is a curious statement, and has never, so far as i know, been commented on; the cause of cibber's retirement having always been considered mysterious. i suppose this reference to ill-treatment must be held as confirming davies's statement that the public lost patience at cibber's continually playing tragic parts, and fairly hissed him off the stage. davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) relates the following incident: "when thomson's sophonisba was read to the actors, cibber laid his hand upon scipio, a character, which, though it appears only in the last act, is of great dignity and importance. for two nights successively, cibber was as much exploded as any bad actor could be. williams, by desire of wilks, made himself master of the part; but he, marching slowly, in great military distinction, from the upper part of the stage, and wearing the same dress as cibber, was mistaken for him, and met with repeated hisses, joined to the music of cat-cals; but, as soon as the audience were undeceived, they converted their groans and hisses to loud and long continued applause."] [footnote : cibber retired in may, . the reappearance he refers to was not that he made in , as bellchambers states. he no doubt alludes to his performances in - , when he played bayes, lord foppington, sir john brute, and other comedy parts. on the nights he played, the compliment was paid him of putting no name in the bill but his own.] [footnote : the original holders of the patents, sir william davenant and thomas killigrew, were dead in ; and their successors, alexander davenant, to whom charles davenant had assigned his interest, and charles killigrew, seem to have taken little active interest in the management; for christopher rich, who acquired davenant's share in , seems at once to have become managing proprietor.] [footnote : davies ("dramatic miscellanies," iii. ) gives the following account of cibber's first salary: "but mr. richard cross, late prompter of drury-lane theatre, gave me the following history of colley cibber's first establishment as a hired actor. he was known only, for some years, by the name of master colley. after waiting impatiently a long time for the prompter's notice, by good fortune he obtained the honour of carrying a message on the stage, in some play, to betterton. whatever was the cause, master colley was so terrified, that the scene was disconcerted by him. betterton asked, in some anger, who the young fellow was that had committed the blunder. downes replied, 'master colley.'--'master colley! then forfeit him.'--'why, sir,' said the prompter, 'he has no salary.'--'no!' said the old man; 'why then put him down ten shillings a week, and forfeit him _s._'"] [footnote : complexion is a point of no importance now, and this allusion suggests a theory to me which i give with all diffidence. we know that actresses painted in pepys's time (" , oct. . but, lord! to see how they [nell gwynne and mrs. knipp] were both painted would make a man mad, and did make me loathe them"), and we also know that dogget was famous for the painting of his face to represent old age. if, then, complexion was a point of importance for a lover, as cibber states, it suggests that young actors playing juvenile parts did not use any "make-up" or paint, but went on the stage in their natural complexion. the lighting of the stage was of course much less brilliant than it afterwards became, so that "make-up" was not so necessary.] [footnote : "the laureat" (p. ) describes cibber's person thus:-- "he was in stature of the middle size, his complexion fair, inclinable to the sandy, his legs somewhat of the thickest, his shape a little clumsy, not irregular, and his voice rather shrill than loud or articulate, and crack'd extremely, when he endeavour'd to raise it. he was in his younger days so lean, as to be known by the name of _hatchet face_."] [footnote : bellchambers notes that this part was originally played by percival, who came into the duke's company about .] [footnote : of cibber's wife there is little record. in the name of "mrs. cibbars" appears to the part of galatea in "philaster," and she was the original hillaria in cibber's "love's last shift" in ; but she never made any great name or played any famous part. she was a miss shore, sister of john shore, "sergeant-trumpet" of england. the "biographia dramatica" (i. ) says that miss shore's father was extremely angry at her marriage, and spent that portion of his fortune which he had intended for her in building a retreat on the thames which was called shore's folly.] [footnote : "the double dealer," , was not very successful, and when played at lincoln's inn fields, th october, , was announced as not having been acted for fifteen years; so that this incident no doubt occurred in the course of the first few nights of the play, which, malone says, was produced in november, .] [footnote : "the prophetess," now supposed to be mostly fletcher's work (see ward's "english dramatic literature," ii. ), was made into an opera by betterton, the music by purcell. it was produced in , with a prologue written by dryden, which, for political reasons, was forbidden by the lord chamberlain after the first night.] [footnote : "king arthur; or, the british worthy," a dramatic opera, as dryden entitles it, was produced in . in his dedication to the marquis of halifax, dryden says: "this poem was the last piece of service, which i had the honour to do, for my gracious master, king charles the second." downes says "'twas very gainful to the company," but cibber declares it was not so successful as it appeared to be.] [footnote : end of .] [footnote : betterton seems to have been a very politic person. in the "comparison between the two stages" (p. ) he is called, though not in reference to this particular matter, "a cunning old fox."] [footnote : this is no doubt a hit at wilks, whose temper was extremely impetuous.] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "he (cibber) was always against raising, or rewarding, or by any means encouraging merit of any kind." he had "many disputes with _wilks_ on this account, who was impatient, when justice required it, to reward the meritorious."] [footnote : this is a reference to the secession of seven or eight actors in , caused, according to cibber, by wilks's overbearing temper. see chapter xv.] [footnote : downes and davies give the following accounts of the transaction:-- "some time after, a difference happening between the united patentees, and the chief _actors_: as mr. _betterton_; mrs. _barry_ and mrs. _bracegirdle_; the latter complaining of oppression from the former; they for redress, appeal'd to my lord of _dorset_, then lord chamberlain, for justice; who espousing the cause of the actors, with the assistance of sir _robert howard_, finding their complaints just, procur'd from king _william_, a seperate license for mr. _congreve_, mr. _betterton_, mrs. _bracegirdle_ and mrs. _barry_, and others, to set up a new company, calling it the new theatre in _lincolns-inn-fields_."--"roscius anglicanus," p. . "the nobility, and all persons of eminence, favoured the cause of the comedians; the generous dorset introduced betterton, mrs. barry, mrs. bracegirdle, and others, to the king, who granted them an audience.... william, who had freed all the subjects of england from slavery, except the inhabitants of the mimical world, rescued them also from the insolence and tyranny of their oppressors."--"dram. miscellanies," iii. .] [footnote : th december, .] [footnote : the "comparison between the two stages" says (p. ): "'twas almost impossible in _drury-lane_, to muster up a sufficient number to take in all the parts of any play."] [footnote : see memoir of johnson at end of second volume.] [footnote : see memoir of bullock at end of second volume.] [footnote : i do not think that the date of this licence has ever been stated. it was th march, .] [footnote : "comparison between the two stages," p. : "we know what importuning and dunning the noblemen there was, what flattering, and what promising there was, till at length, the incouragement they received by liberal contributions set 'em in a condition to go on." this theatre was the theatre in _little_ lincoln's inn fields. see further details in chap. xiii.] [footnote : no doubt, rich.] [footnote : downes says (p. ), "the house being fitted up from a tennis-court, they open'd it the last day of _april, _."] [footnote : it will be noticed that downes in the passage quoted by me (p. , note ) mentions congreve as if he had been an original sharer in the licence; but the statement is probably loosely made.] [footnote : bellchambers has here the following notes, the entire substance of which will be found in malone ("shakespeare," , iii. , _et seq._): "in shakspeare's time the nightly expenses for lights, supernumeraries, etc., was but forty-five shillings, and having deducted this charge, the clear emoluments were divided into shares, (supposed to be forty in number,) between the proprietors, and principal actors. in the year , the whole profit arising from acting plays, masques, etc., at the king's theatre, was divided into twelve shares and three quarters, of which mr. killegrew, the manager, had two shares and three quarters, each share computed to produce about £ , net, per annum. in sir william d'avenant's company, from the time their new theatre was opened in portugal-row, the total receipt, after deducting the nightly expenses, was divided into fifteen shares, of which it was agreed that ten should belong to d'avenant, for various purposes, and the remainder be divided among the male members of his troops according to their rank and merit. i cannot relate the arrangement adopted by betterton in lincoln's-inn-fields, but the share accepted by congreve was, doubtless, presumed to be of considerable value. "dryden had a share and a quarter in the king's company, for which he bound himself to furnish not two, but three plays every season. the following paper, which, after remaining long in the killegrew family, came into the hands of the late mr. reed, and was published by mr. malone in his 'historical account of the english stage,' incontestably proves the practice alluded to. the superscription is lost, but it was probably addressed to the lord-chamberlain, or the king, about the year , 'oedipus,' the ground of complaint, being printed in : "'whereas upon mr. dryden's binding himself to write three playes a yeere, hee the said mr. dryden was admitted and continued as a sharer in the king's playhouse for diverse years, and received for his share and a quarter three or four hundred pounds, communibus annis; but though he received the moneys, we received not the playes, not one in a yeare. after which, the house being burnt, the company in building another, contracted great debts, so that shares fell much short of what they were formerly. thereupon mr. dryden complaining to the company of his want of proffit, the company was so kind to him that they not only did not presse him for the playes which he so engaged to write for them, and for which he was paid beforehand, but they did also at his earnest request give him a third day for his last new play called _all for love_; and at the receipt of the money of the said third day, he acknowledged it as a guift, and a particular kindnesse of the company. yet notwithstanding this kind proceeding, mr. dryden has now, jointly with mr. lee, (who was in pension with us to the last day of our playing, and shall continue,) written a play called _oedipus_, and given it to the duke's company, contrary to his said agreement, his promise, and all gratitude, to the great prejudice and almost undoing of the company, they being the only poets remaining to us. mr. crowne, being under the like agreement with the duke's house, writt a play called _the destruction of jerusalem_, and being forced by their refusall of it, to bring it to us, the said company compelled us, after the studying of it, and a vast expence in scenes and cloaths, to buy off their clayme, by paying all the pension he had received from them, amounting to one hundred and twelve pounds paid by the king's company, besides near forty pounds he the said mr. crowne paid out of his owne pocket. "'these things considered, if notwithstanding mr. dryden's said agreement, promise, and moneys freely giving him for his said last new play, and the many titles we have to his writings, this play be judged away from us, we must submit. (signed) "'charles killigrew. "'charles hart. "'rich. burt. "'cardell goodman. "'mic. mohun.'"] [footnote : the interval between the two plays cannot have been quite three years. the first was produced in april, , the second some time in .] [footnote : produced early in .] [footnote : mrs. mountfort was now mrs. verbruggen.] [footnote : the passage is:-- "the freedom man was born to, you've restor'd, and to our world such plenty you afford, it seems, like eden, fruitful of its own accord. but since, in paradise, frail flesh gave way, and when but two were made, both went astray; forbear your wonder, and the fault forgive, if, in our larger family, we grieve one falling adam, and one tempted eve."] [footnote : in his preface to "woman's wit," cibber says, "but however a fort is in a very poor condition, that (in a time of general war) has but a handful of raw young fellows to maintain it." he also talks of himself and his companions as "an uncertain company."] [footnote : bellchambers has here this note: "mr. cibber's usage of the verb _regret_ here, may be said to confirm the censure of fielding, who urged, in reviewing some other of his inadvertencies, that it was 'needless for a great writer to understand his grammar.'" see note on page .] [footnote : genest (ii. ) has the following criticism of cibber's statement: "there can be no doubt but that the acting at the theatre royal was miserably inferiour to what it had been--but perhaps cibber's account is a little exaggerated--he had evidently a personal dislike to powell--everything therefore that he says, directly or indirectly, against him must be received with some grains of allowance--powell seems to have been eager to exhibit himself in some of betterton's best parts, whereas a more diffident actor would have wished to avoid comparisons--we know from the spectator that powell was too apt to tear a passion to tatters, but still he must have been an actor of considerable reputation at this time, or he would not have been cast for several good parts before the division of the company."] [footnote : "old bachelor," act iv. sc. :-- "_fondlewife._ come kiss _nykin_ once more, and then get you in--so--get you in, get you in. by by. _lætitia._ by, _nykin_. _fondlewife._ by, cocky. _lætitia._ by, _nykin_. _fondlewife._ by, cocky, by, by."] [footnote : regarding powell's playing in imitation of betterton, chetwood ("history of the stage," p. ) says: "mr. _george powel_, a reputable actor, with many excellencies, gave out, that he would perform the part of sir _john falstaff_ in the manner of that very excellent _english roscius_, mr. _betterton_. he certainly hit his manner, and tone of voice, yet to make the picture more like, he mimic'd the infirmities of distemper, old age, and the afflicting pains of the gout, which that great man was often seiz'd with."] [footnote : "quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas, gaudia, discursus, nostri est farrago libelli." juvenal, i. .] [footnote : that is, january, . the cast was:-- "love's last shift; or, the fool in fashion." sir william wisewoud .............. mr. johnson. loveless .......................... mr. verbruggen. sir novelty fashion ............... mr. cibber. elder worthy ...................... mr. williams. young worthy ...................... mr. horden. snap .............................. mr. penkethman. sly ............................... mr. bullock. lawyer ............................ mr. mills. amanda ............................ mrs. rogers. narcissa .......................... mrs. verbruggen. hillaria .......................... mrs. cibber. mrs. flareit ...................... mrs. kent. amanda's woman .................... mrs. lucas.] [footnote : in the dedication to this play cibber says that "mr. _southern_'s good-nature (whose own works best recommend his judgment) engaged his reputation for the success."] [footnote : gildon praises this play highly in the "comparison between the two stages," p. :-- "_ramble._ ay, marry, that play was the philosopher's stone; i think it did wonders. _sullen._ it did so, and very deservedly; there being few comedies that came up to't for purity of plot, manners and moral: it's often acted now a daies, and by the help of the author's own good action, it pleases to this day."] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) says: "so little was hoped from the genius of cibber, that the critics reproached him with stealing his play. to his censurers he makes a serious defence of himself, in his dedication to richard norton, esq., of southwick, a gentleman who was so fond of stage-plays and players, that he has been accused of turning his chapel into a theatre. the furious john dennis, who hated cibber for obstructing, as he imagined, the progress of his tragedy called the invader of his country, in very passionate terms denies his claim to this comedy: 'when the fool in fashion was first acted (says the critic) cibber was hardly twenty years of age--how could he, at the age of twenty, write a comedy with a just design, distinguished characters, and a proper dialogue, who now, at forty, treats us with hibernian sense and hibernian english?'"] [footnote : this same accusation was made against cibber on other occasions. dr. johnson, referring to one of these, said: "there was no reason to believe that the _careless husband_ was not written by himself."--boswell's johnson, ii. .] [footnote : "the relapse; or, virtue in danger," was produced at drury lane in . cibber's part in it, lord foppington, became one of his most famous characters. the "comparison between the two stages," p. , says: "_oronoko_, _Ã�sop_, and _relapse_ are master-pieces, and subsisted _drury-lane_ house, the first two or three years."] [footnote : "the provoked wife" was produced at lincoln's inn fields in ; and, as cibber states, "Ã�sop" was played at drury lane in the same year. it seems (see prologue to "the confederacy") that vanbrugh gave his first three plays as presents to the companies.] [footnote : "comparison between the two stages," p. : "in the meantime the mushrooms in _drury-lane_ shoot up from such a desolate fortune into a considerable name; and not only grappled with their rivals, but almost eclipst 'em."] [footnote : the last performance of this comedy which genest indexes was at covent garden, th february, .] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) says: "the truth is, cibber was endured, in this and other tragic parts, on account of his general merit in comedy;" and the author of "the laureat," p. , remarks: "i have often heard him blamed as a trifler in that part; he was rarely perfect, and, abating for the badness of his voice and the insignificancy and meanness of his action, he did not seem to understand either what he said or what he was about."] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "whatever the actors appear'd upon the stage, they were most of them _barbarians_ off on't, few of them having had the education, or whose fortunes could admit them to the conversation of gentlemen."] [footnote : davies praises cibber in fondlewife, saying that he "was much and justly admired and applauded" ("dram. misc.," iii. ); and in the same work (i. ) he gives an admirable sketch of cibber as justice shallow:-- "whether he was a copy or an original in shallow, it is certain no audience was ever more fixed in deep attention, at his first appearance, or more shaken with laughter in the progress of the scene, than at colley cibber's exhibition of this ridiculous justice of peace. some years after he had left the stage, he acted shallow for his son's benefit. i believe in , when quin was the falstaff, and milward the king. whether it was owing to the pleasure the spectators felt on seeing their old friend return to them again, _though for that night only_, after an absence of some years, i know not; but, surely, no actor or audience were better pleased with each other. his manner was so perfectly simple, his look so vacant, when he questioned his cousin silence about the price of ewes, and lamented, in the same breath, with silly surprise, the death of old double, that it will be impossible for any surviving spectator not to smile at the remembrance of it. the want of ideas occasions shallow to repeat almost every thing he says. cibber's transition, from asking the price of bullocks, to trite, but grave reflections on mortality, was so natural, and attended with such an unmeaning roll of his small pigs-eyes, accompanied with an important utterance of tick! tick! tick! not much louder than the balance of a watch, that i question if any actor was ever superior in the conception or expression of such solemn insignificancy."] [footnote : i presume cibber means . the company was self-governed from its commencement in , and the disintegration seems to have begun in the next season. see what cibber says of dogget's defection a few pages on.] [footnote : in lee's tragedy of "cæsar borgia," originally played at dorset garden in . borgia was betterton's part, and was evidently one of those which powell laid violent hands on.] [footnote : among the lord chamberlain's papers is a curious decision, dated oct. , regarding this desertion. by it, dogget, who is stated to have been seduced from lincoln's inn fields, is permitted to act where he likes.] [footnote : genest's list of dogget's characters shows that he was apparently not engaged to , both inclusive; for the seasons - and - ; and for the season - . this would make the three occasions mentioned by cibber.] [footnote : dryden, in his address to granville on his tragedy of "heroic love" in , says of the lincoln's inn fields company:-- "their setting sun still shoots a glimmering ray, like ancient rome, majestic in decay; and better gleanings their worn soil can boast, than the crab-vintage of the neighbouring coast."] [footnote : "comparison between the two stages," p. : "but this [the success of 'love for love'] like other things of that kind, being only nine days wonder, and the audiences, being in a little time sated with the novelty of the _new-house_, return in shoals to the old."] [footnote : cibber says nothing of his having been a member of the lincoln's inn fields company. but he was, for he writes in his preface to "woman's wit": "during the time of my writing the two first acts i was entertain'd at the new theatre.... in the middle of my writing the third act, not liking my station there, i return'd again to the theatre royal." cibber must have joined betterton, i should think, about the end of . it is curious that he should in his "apology" have entirely suppressed this incident. it almost suggests that there was something in it of which he was in later years somewhat ashamed.] [footnote : "comparison between the two stages," p. : "the town ... chang'd their inclinations for the two houses, as they found 'emselves inclin'd to comedy or tragedy: if they desir'd a tragedy, they went to _lincolns-inn-fields_; if to comedy, they flockt to _drury-lane_."] [footnote : christopher rich, of whom the "comparison between the two stages" says (p. ): "_critick_. in the other house there's an old snarling lawyer master and sovereign; a waspish, ignorant, pettifogger in law and poetry; one who understands poetry no more than algebra; he wou'd sooner have the grace of god than do everybody justice."] [footnote : this privilege seems to have been granted about or . it was not abolished till . on th may, , footmen having been deprived of their privilege, of them broke into drury lane and did great damage. many were, however, arrested, and no attempt was made to renew hostilities.] [footnote : queen anne issued several edicts forbidding persons to be admitted behind the scenes, and in the advertisements of both theatres there appeared the announcement, "by her majesty's command no persons are to be admitted behind the scenes." cibber here, no doubt, refers to the sign manual of nov. , a copy of which is among the chamberlain's papers.] [footnote : cibber is probably incorrect here. it seems certain from the bills that wilks did not re-appear in london before .] [footnote : see note on page .] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "_wilks_, in this part of _palamede_, behav'd with a modest diffidence, and yet maintain'd the spirit of his part." the author says, on the same page, that powel never could appear a gentleman. "his conversation, his manners, his dress, neither on nor off the stage, bore any similitude to that character."] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "i believe he (wilks) was obliged to fight the heroic _george powel_, as well as one or two others, who were piqued at his being so highly encouraged by the town, and their rival, before he cou'd be quiet."] [footnote : powell seems to have been at lincoln's inn fields for two seasons, those of and , and for part of a third, - . he returned to drury lane about june, . for the arbitrary conduct of the lord chamberlain, in allowing him to desert to lincoln's inn fields (or the haymarket), but arresting him when he deserted back again to drury lane, see after, in chap. x.] [footnote : cibber is here somewhat in the position of satan reproving sin, if davies's statements ("dram. misc.," iii. ) are accurate. he says:-- "this attention to the gaming-table would not, we may be assured, render him [cibber] fitter for his business of the stage. after many an unlucky run at tom's coffee-house [in russell street], he has arrived at the playhouse in great tranquillity; and then, humming over an opera-tune, he has walked on the stage not well prepared in the part he was to act. cibber should not have reprehended powell so severely for neglect and imperfect representation: i have seen him at fault where it was least expected; in parts which he had acted a hundred times, and particularly in sir courtly nice; but colley dexterously supplied the deficiency of his memory by prolonging his ceremonious bow to the lady, and drawling out 'your humble servant, madam,' to an extraordinary length; then taking a pinch of snuff, and strutting deliberately across the stage, he has gravely asked the prompter, what is next?"] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "i have known him (wilks) lay a wager and win it, that he wou'd repeat the part of _truewitt_ in the _silent woman_, which consists of thirty lengths of paper, as they call 'em, (that is, one quarter of a sheet on both sides to a length) without misplacing a single word, or missing an (_and_) or an (_or_)."] [footnote : alexander in "the rival queens."] [footnote : in "the man of the mode; or, sir fopling flutter."] [footnote : produced at lincoln's inn fields, th january, .] [footnote : "love in a riddle." a pastoral. produced at drury lane, th january, . arcas........................................ mr. mills. Ã�gon ........................................ mr. harper. amyntas ..................................... mr. williams. iphis ....................................... mrs. thurmond. philautus, a conceited corinthian courtier... mr. cibber. corydon ..................................... mr. griffin. cimon ....................................... mr. miller. mopsus ...................................... mr. oates. damon ....................................... mr. ray. ianthe, daughter to arcas ................... mrs. cibber. pastora, daughter to Ã�gon ................... mrs. lindar. phillida, daughter to corydon ............... mrs. raftor. _mrs._ raftor (at this time _miss_ was not generally used) was afterwards the famous mrs. clive. chetwood, in his "history of the stage," (p. ), says: "i remember the first night of _love in a riddle_ (which was murder'd in the same year) a pastoral opera wrote by the _laureat_, which the hydra-headed multitude resolv'd to worry without hearing, a custom with authors of merit, when miss _raftor_ came on in the part of _phillida_, the monstrous roar subsided. a person in the stage-box, next to my post, called out to his companion in the following elegant style--'zounds! _tom!_ take care! or this charming little devil will save all.'" chetwood's "post" was that of prompter.] [footnote : martial, xiii. , .] [footnote : cibber should have written _catiline_.] [footnote : this second part was called "polly." in his preface gay gives an account of its being vetoed. the prohibition undoubtedly was in revenge for the political satire in "the beggar's opera." "polly" was published by subscription, and probably brought the author more in that way than its production would have done. it was played for the first time at the haymarket, th june, . it is, as genest says, miserably inferior to the first part.] [footnote : "polly" was officially prohibited on th december, .] [footnote : i know only one case in which a new piece is said to have been prohibited because the other house was going to play one on the same subject. this is swiney's "quacks; or, love's the physician," produced at drury lane on th march, , after being twice vetoed. swiney in his preface gives the above as the reason for the prohibition.] [footnote : cibber afterwards formed the best scenes of "love in a riddle" into a ballad opera, called "damon and phillida."] [footnote : bellchambers notes that this was probably mrs. oldfield. but i think this more than doubtful, for this lady not only was fair, but also, as touchstone says, "had the gift to know it." it is, of course, impossible to say decidedly to whom cibber referred; but i fancy that mrs. barry is the actress who best fulfils the conditions, though, of course, i must admit that her having been dead for a quarter of a century weakens my case.] [footnote : a "bite" is what we now term a "sell." in "the spectator," nos. and , some account of "biters" is given: "a race of men that are perpetually employed in laughing at those mistakes which are of their own production."] [footnote : this is a capital sketch of christopher rich.] [footnote : cibber's hint of rich's weakness for the fair sex is corroborated by the "comparison between the two stages," page : "_critick._ he is monarch of the stage, tho' he knows not how to govern one province in his dominion, but that of signing, sealing, and something else, that shall be nameless."] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "if _minister wilks_ was now alive to hear thee prate thus, mr. _bayes,_ i would not give one half-penny for thy ears; but if he were alive, thou durst not for thy ears rattle on in this affected _matchiavilian_ stile."] [footnote : characters in ben jonson's "silent woman."] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "did you not, by your general misbehaviour towards authors and actors, bring an _odium_ on your brother _menagers_, as well as yourself; and were not these, with many others, the reasons, that sometimes gave occasion to _wilks_, to chastise you, with his tongue only."] [footnote : see memoir of john mills at end of second volume.] [footnote : john mills, in the advertisement issued by rich, in , in the course of a dispute with his actors, is stated to have a salary of "£ a week for himself, and £ a week for his wife, for little or nothing." this advertisement is quoted by me in chap. xii. mills's salary was the same as betterton's. no doubt cibber, wilks, dogget, and booth had ultimately larger salaries, but they, of course, were managers as well as actors.] [footnote : booth seems to have joined the lincoln's inn fields company in .] [footnote : steele's comedy was produced at drury lane in . cibber played lord hardy.] [footnote : the play was called "woman's wit; or, the lady in fashion." it was produced at drury lane in . it must have been in the early months of that year, for in his preface cibber says, to excuse its failure, that it was hurriedly written, and that "rather than lose a winter" he forced himself to invent a fable. "the laureat," p. , stupidly says that the name of the play was "_perolla_ and _isadora_." the cast was:-- lord lovemore ................................... mr. harland. longville ....................................... mr. cibber. major rakish .................................... mr. penkethman. jack rakish ..................................... mr. powel. mass johnny, lady manlove's son, a schoolboy .... mr. dogget. father benedic .................................. mr. smeaton. lady manlove..................................... mrs. powel. leonora ......................................... mrs. knight. emilia .......................................... mrs. rogers. olivia .......................................... mrs. cibber. lettice ......................................... mrs. kent.] [footnote : "aut prodesse volunt aut delectare poetae." hor. _ars poetica_, .] [footnote : "omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci." hor. _ars poetica_, .] [footnote : pepys ( th june, ) records that the lady mary cromwell at the theatre, "when the house began to fill, put on her vizard, and so kept it on all the play; which of late is become a great fashion among the ladies, which hides their whole face." very soon, however, ladies gave up the use of the mask, and "vizard-mask" became a synonym for "prostitute." in this sense it is frequently used in dryden's prologues and epilogues.] [footnote : compare with cibber's condemnation genest's opinion of this play. he says (i. ): "if it be the province of comedy, not to retail morality to a yawning pit, but to make the audience laugh, and to keep them in good humour, this play must be allowed to be one of the best comedies in the english language."] [footnote : to "the pilgrim," revived in , as cibber states, dryden's "secular masque" was attached. whether the revival took place before or after dryden's death ( st may, ) is a moot point. see genest, ii. , for an admirable account of the matter. he thinks it probable that the date of production was th march, . cibber is scarcely accurate in stating that "the pilgrim" was revived for dryden's benefit. it seems, rather, that vanbrugh, who revised the play, stipulated that, in consideration of dryden's writing "the secular masque," and also the prologue and epilogue, he should have the usual author's third night. the b. m. copy of "the pilgrim" is dated, in an old handwriting, "monday, the of may."] [footnote : jeremy collier.] [footnote : genest notes (ii. ) that in the original play the servant in the nd act did not stutter.] [footnote : collier's famous work, which was entitled "a short view of the immorality and profaneness of the english stage: together with the sense of antiquity upon this argument," was published in . collier was a nonjuring clergyman. he was born on rd september, , and died in . the circumstance to which cibber alludes in the second paragraph from the present, was collier's attending to the scaffold sir john friend and sir william perkins, who were executed for complicity in plots against king william in .] [footnote : the facetious joe haines was an actor of great popularity, and seems to have excelled in the delivery of prologues and epilogues, especially of those written by himself. he was on the stage from about to or , in which latter year (on the th of april) he died. he was the original sparkish in wycherley's "country wife," lord plausible in the same author's "plain dealer," and tom errand in farquhar's "constant couple." davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) tells, on quin's authority, an anecdote of haines's pretended conversion to romanism during james the second's reign. he declared that the virgin mary appeared to him in a vision. "lord sunderland sent for joe, and asked him about the truth of his conversion, and whether he had really seen the virgin?--yes, my lord, i assure you it is a fact.--how was it, pray?--why, as i was lying in my bed, the virgin appeared to me, and said, _arise, joe!_--you lie, you rogue, said the earl; for, if it had really been the virgin herself, she would have said _joseph_, if it had been only out of respect to her husband." for an account of haines, see also anthony aston.] [footnote : "the laureat" (p. ) states that soon after the publication of collier's book, informers were placed in different parts of the theatres, on whose information several players were charged with uttering immoral words. queen anne, however, satisfied that the informers were not actuated by zeal for morality, stopped the inquisition. these informers were paid by the society for the reformation of manners.] [footnote : congreve's answer to collier was entitled "amendments of mr. collier's false and imperfect citations, &c. from the old batchelour, double dealer, love for love, mourning bride. by the author of those plays." vanbrugh called his reply, "a short vindication of the relapse and the provok'd wife, from immorality and prophaneness. by the author." davies says, regarding congreve ("dram. misc.," iii. ): "congreve's pride was hurt by collier's attack on plays which all the world had admired and commended; and no hypocrite showed more rancour and resentment, when unmasked, than this author, so greatly celebrated for sweetness of temper and elegance of manners."] [footnote : charles killigrew, who died in , having held the office of master of the revels for over forty years.] [footnote : produced at drury lane in . for some account of cibber's playing of richard, see _ante_, pp. , .] [footnote : chalmers ("apology for the believers in the shakspeare papers," page ) comments unfavourably on cibber's method of stating this fact, saying, "well might pope cry out, _modest_ cibber!" but chalmers is unjust to colley, who is not expressing his own opinion of his play's importance, but merely reporting the opinion of killigrew.] [footnote : steele's name first appears in a license granted th october, . his patent was dated th january, .] [footnote : chalmers ("apology for the believers," page ) says: "the patentees sent colley cibber, as envoy-extraordinary, to negotiate an amicable settlement with the sovereign of the revels. it is amusing to hear, how this flippant negotiator explained his own pretensions, and attempted to invalidate the right of his opponent; as if a subsequent charter, under the great seal, could supersede a preceding grant under the same authority. charles killigrew, who was now sixty-five years of age, seems to have been oppressed by the insolent civility of colley cibber." but this is an undeserved hit at cibber, who had suffered the grossest injustice at killigrew's hands regarding the licensing of "richard iii." see _ante_, p. . the dispute regarding fees must have occurred about .] [footnote : the licensing act of . this act was passed by sir robert walpole's government, and gave to the lord chamberlain the power to prohibit a piece from being acted at all, by making it necessary to have every play licensed. this power, however, had practically been exercised by the chamberlain before, as in the case of gay's "polly," which cibber has already mentioned. the immediate cause of this act of was a piece called "the golden rump," which was so full of scurrility against the powers that were, that giffard, the manager to whom it was submitted, carried it to walpole. in spite of the opposition of lord chesterfield, who delivered a famous speech against it, the bill was passed, st june, . the "biographia dramatica" hints plainly that "the golden rump" was written at walpole's instigation to afford an excuse for the act. bellchambers has the following note on this passage:-- "the abbé le blanc,{a} who was in england at the time this law passed, has the following remarks upon it in his correspondence:-- "'this act occasioned an universal murmur in the nation, and was openly complained of in the public papers: in all the coffee-houses of london it was treated as an unjust law, and manifestly contrary to the liberties of the people of england. when winter came, and the play-houses were opened, that of covent-garden began with three new pieces, which had been approved of by the lord chamberlain. there was a crowd of spectators present at the first, and among the number myself. the best play in the world would not have succeeded the first night.{b} there was a resolution to damn whatever might appear, the word _hiss_ not being sufficiently expressive for the english. they always say, to _damn_ a piece, to _damn_ an author, &c. and, in reality, the word is not too strong to express the manner in which they receive a play which does not please them. the farce in question was damned indeed, without the least compassion: nor was that all, for the actors were driven off the stage, and happy was it for the author that he did not fall into the hands of this furious assembly. "'as you are unacquainted with the customs of this country, you cannot easily devise who were the authors of all this disturbance. perhaps you may think they were schoolboys, apprentices, clerks, or mechanics. no, sir, they were men of a very grave and genteel profession; they were lawyers, and please you; a body of gentlemen, perhaps less honoured, but certainly more feared here than they are in france. most of them live in colleges,{c} where, conversing always with one another, they mutually preserve a spirit of independency through the body, and with great ease form cabals. these gentlemen, in the stage entertainments of london, behave much like our footboys, in those at a fair. with us, your party-coloured gentry are the most noisy; but here, men of the law have all the sway, if i may be permitted to call so those pretended professors of it, who are rather the organs of chicanery, than the interpreters of justice. at paris the cabals of the pit are only among young fellows, whose years may excuse their folly, or persons of the meanest education and stamp; here they are the fruit of deliberations in a very grave body of people, who are not less formidable to the minister in place, than to the theatrical writers. "'the players were not dismayed, but soon after stuck up bills for another new piece: there was the same crowding at covent-garden, to which i again contributed. i was sure, at least, that if the piece advertised was not performed, i should have the pleasure of beholding some very extraordinary scene acted in the pit. "'half an hour before the play was to begin, the spectators gave notice of their dispositions by frightful hisses and outcries, equal, perhaps, to what were ever heard at a roman amphitheatre. i could not have known, but by my eyes only, that i was among an assembly of beings who thought themselves to be reasonable. the author, who had foreseen this fury of the pit, took care to be armed against it. he knew what people he had to deal with, and, to make them easy, put in his prologue double the usual dose of incense that is offered to their vanity; for there is an established tax of this kind, from which no author is suffered to dispense himself. this author's wise precaution succeeded, and the men that were before so redoubtable grew calm; the charms of flattery, more strong than those of music, deprived them of all their fierceness. "'you see, sir, that the pit is the same in all countries: it loves to be flattered, under the more genteel name of being complimented. if a man has tolerable address at panegyric, they swallow it greedily, and are easily quelled and intoxicated by the draught. every one in particular thinks he merits the praise that is given to the whole in general; the illusion operates, and the prologue is good, only because it is artfully directed. every one saves his own blush by the authority of the multitude he makes a part of, which is, perhaps, the only circumstance in which a man can think himself not obliged to be modest. "'the author having, by flattery, begun to tame this wild audience, proceeded entirely to reconcile it by the first scene of his performance. two actors came in, one dressed in the english manner very decently, and the other with black eyebrows, a ribbon of an ell long under his chin, a bag-peruke immoderately powdered, and his nose all bedaubed with snuff. what englishman could not know a frenchman by this ridiculous picture! the common people of london think we are indeed such sort of folks, and of their own accord, add to our real follies all that their authors are pleased to give us. but when it was found, that the man thus equipped, being also laced down every seam of his coat, was nothing but a cook, the spectators were equally charmed and surprised. the author had taken care to make him speak all the impertinencies he could devise, and for that reason, all the impertinencies of his farce were excused, and the merit of it immediately decided. there was a long criticism upon our manners, our customs, and above all, upon our cookery. the excellence and virtues of english beef were cried up, and the author maintained, that it was owing to the qualities of its juice, that the english were so courageous, and had such a solidity of understanding, which raised them above all the nations in europe: he preferred the noble old english pudding beyond all the finest ragouts that were ever invented by the greatest geniuses that france has produced; and all these ingenious strokes were loudly clapped by the audience. "'the pit, biassed by the abuse that was thrown on the french, forgot that they came to damn the play, and maintain the ancient liberty of the stage. they were friends with the players, and even with the court itself, and contented themselves with the privilege left them, of lashing our nation as much as they pleased, in the room of laughing at the expense of the minister. the license of authors did not seem to be too much restrained, since the court did not hinder them from saying all the ill they could of the french. "'intractable as the populace appear in this country, those who know how to take hold of their foibles, may easily carry their point. thus is the liberty of the stage reduced to just bounds, and yet the english pit makes no farther attempt to oppose the new regulation. the law is executed without the least trouble, all the plays since having been quietly heard, and either succeeded, or not, according to their merit.'" see article in mr. archer's "about the theatre," p. , and parliamentary reports, and . {subnote a: mr. garrick, when in paris, refused to meet this writer, on account of the irreverence with which he had treated shakspeare.} {subnote b: the action was interrupted almost as soon as begun, in presence of a numerous assembly, by a cabal who had resolved to overthrow the first effect of this act of parliament, though it had been thought necessary for the regulation of the stage.} {subnote c: called here inns of court, as the two temples, lincoln's inn, gray's inn, doctor's commons, &c.}] [footnote : the theatre in goodman's fields was opened in october, , by thomas odell, who was afterwards deputy licenser under the act. odell, having no theatrical experience, entrusted the management to henry giffard. odell's theatre seems to have been in leman street.] [footnote : i can find no hint that plays were ever stopped at odell's theatre. there is a pamphlet, published in , with the following title: "a letter to the right honourable sir richard brocas, lord mayor of london. by a citizen," which demands the closing of the theatre, but i do not suppose any practical result followed. in an attempt by the patentees of drury lane and covent garden to silence giffard's company, then playing at his new theatre in goodman's fields, was unsuccessful. this theatre was in ayliffe street.] [footnote : half of booth's share of the patent was purchased by highmore, who also bought the whole of cibber's share. giffard was the purchaser of the remainder of booth's share.] [footnote : this was john harper. davies ("life of garrick," i. ) says that "the reason of the patentees fixing on harper was in consequence of his natural timidity." his trial was on the th november, . harper was a low comedian of some ability, but of no great note.] [footnote : cibber again alludes to this in chap. xiii.] [footnote : sir francis wronghead is a character in "the provoked husband," a country squire who comes to london to seek a place at court. in act iv. sir francis relates his interview with a certain great man: "sir francis, says my lord, pray what sort of a place may you ha' turned your thoughts upon? my lord, says i, beggars must not be chusers; but ony place, says i, about a thousand a-year, will be well enough to be doing with, till something better falls in--for i thowght it would not look well to stond haggling with him at first."] [footnote : giffard seems to have retained his sixth part.] [footnote : some account of the entire dispute between highmore and his actors will be found in my supplement to this book.] [footnote : this "broken wit" was henry fielding, between whom and cibber there was war to the knife, fielding taking every opportunity of mocking at colley and attacking his works. mr. austin dobson, in his "fielding," page , writes: "when the _champion_ was rather more than a year old, colley cibber published his famous _apology_. to the attacks made upon him by fielding at different times he had hitherto printed no reply--perhaps he had no opportunity of doing so. but in his eighth chapter, when speaking of the causes which led to the licensing act, he takes occasion to refer to his assailant in terms which fielding must have found exceedingly galling. he carefully abstained from mentioning his name, on the ground that it could do him no good, and was of no importance; but he described him as 'a broken wit,'" &c. mr. dobson, on page , gives his approval to the theory that "fielding had openly expressed resentment at being described by cibber as 'a broken wit,' without being mentioned by name."] [footnote : the use of "channel," meaning "gutter," is obsolete in england; but i am sure that i have heard it used in that sense in scotland. shakespeare in "king henry the sixth," third part, act ii. sc. , has, "as if a channel should be called the sea." and in marlowe's "edward the second," act i. sc. , occur the lines:-- "throw off his golden mitre, rend his stole, and in the channel christen him anew."] [footnote : juvenal, i. .] [footnote : mr. dobson ("fielding," page ) says: "he [cibber] called him, either in allusion to his stature, or his pseudonym in the _champion_, a '_herculean_ satyrist,' a '_drawcansir_ in wit.'"] [footnote : fielding's political satires, in such pieces as "pasquin" and "the historical register for ," contributed largely to the passing of the act of , although "the golden rump" was the ostensible cause.] [footnote : fielding, in the "champion" for tuesday, april nd, , says of cibber's refusal to quote from "pasquin"--"the good parent seems to imagine that he hath produced, as well as my lord _clarendon_, a [greek: ktêma es aei]; for he refuses to quote anything out of _pasquin_, lest he should _give it a chance of being remembered_." mr. dobson ("fielding," page ) says fielding "never seems to have wholly forgotten his animosity to the actor, to whom there are frequent references in _joseph andrews_; and, as late as , he is still found harping on 'the withered laurel' in a letter to lyttelton. even in his last work, the _voyage to lisbon_, cibber's name is mentioned. the origin of this protracted feud is obscure; but, apart from want of sympathy, it must probably be sought for in some early misunderstanding between the two in their capacities of manager and author."] [footnote : by lord chesterfield.] [footnote : horace, _ars poetica_, .] [footnote : guiscard's attack on harley occurred in .] [footnote : genest (iii. ) remarks, "if the power of the licenser had been laid _under proper regulations_, all would have been right." the whole objection to the licenser is simply that he is under no regulations whatever. he is a perfectly irresponsible authority, and one from whose decisions there is no appeal.] [footnote : cibber received three thousand guineas from highmore for his share in the patent (see victor's "history," i. ).] [footnote : "the laureat," page : "indeed, _laureat_, notwithstanding what thou may'st dream of the immortality of this work of thine, and bestowing the same on thy favourites by recording them here; thou mayst, old as thou art, live to see thy precious labours become the vile wrappers of pastry-grocers and chandlery wares." the issue of the present edition of cibber's "apology" is sufficient commentary on "the laureat's" ill-natured prophecy.] [footnote : cibber prints , repeating his former blunder. (see p. .)] [footnote : the first play acted by the united company was "hamlet." in this estcourt is cast for the gravedigger, so that if cibber's anecdote is accurate, as no doubt it is, estcourt must have "doubled" the gravedigger and the speaker of the prologue.] [footnote : the first edition reads " ," and in the next chapter cibber says . in point of fact, the first performance by the united company took place th january, . this does not make estcourt's "gag" incorrect, for though we now should not consider may, , and the following january in the same year, yet up to , when the style was changed in england, they were so.] [footnote : southerne's "oroonoko" was produced at drury lane in .] [footnote : of horden we know little more than cibber tells us. he seems to have been on the stage only for a year or two; and during only, at drury lane, does his name appear to important parts. davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) says horden "was bred a scholar: he complimented george powell, in a latin encomium on his treacherous brothers." "the london news-letter," th may, , says: "on _monday_ capt. _burges_ who kill'd mr. _fane_, and was found guilty of manslaughter at the _old baily_, kill'd mr. _harding_ a comedian in a quarrel at the _rose_ tavern in _hatton_ [should be _covent_] _garden_, and is taken into custody." in "luttrell's diary," on tuesday, th may, , is noted: "captain burgesse, convicted last sessions of manslaughter for killing mr. fane, is committed to the gatehouse for killing mr. horden, of the playhouse, last night in covent garden." and on tuesday, th november, , "captain burgesse, who killed mr. horden the player, has obtained his majesties pardon."] [footnote : this tavern seems to have been very near drury lane theatre, and to have been a favourite place of resort after the play. in the epilogue to the "constant couple" the rose tavern is mentioned:-- "now all depart, each his respective way, to spend an evening's chat upon the play; some to hippolito's; one homeward goes, and one with loving she, retires to th' rose." in the "comparison between the two stages" one scene is laid in the rose tavern, and from it we gather that the house was of a very bad character:-- _"ramb._ defend us! what a hurry of sin is in this house! _sull._ drunkenness, which is the proper iniquity of a tavern, is here the most excusable sin; so many other sins over-run it, 'tis hardly seen in the crowd.... _sull._ this house is the very camp of sin; the devil sets up his black standard in the faces of these hungry harlots, and to enter into their trenches is going down to the bottomless pit according to the letter."--_comp._, p. . pepys mentions the rose more than once. on th may, , the first day of sedley's play, "the mulberry garden," the diarist, having secured his place in the pit, and feeling hungry, "did slip out, getting a boy to keep my place; and to the rose tavern, and there got half a breast of mutton, off the spit, and dined all alone. and so to the play again."] [footnote : cibber's chronology cannot be reconciled with what we believe to be facts. horden was killed in ; wilks seems to have come to england not earlier than the end of , while it is, i should say, certain that estcourt did not appear before . i can only suppose that cibber, who is very reckless in his dates, is here particularly confused.] [footnote : for leigh's playing of this character, see _ante_, p. .] [footnote : curll, in his "life of mrs. oldfield," says that the only part she played, previous to appearing as alinda, was candiope in "secret love." she played alinda in .] [footnote : in , gildon, in the "comparison between the two stages" (p. ), includes mrs. oldfield among the "meer rubbish that ought to be swept off the stage with the filth and dust."] [footnote : "miff," a colloquial expression signifying "a slight degree of resentment."] [footnote : cibber is pleasantly candid in allowing that he had no share in mrs. oldfield's success. the temptation to assume some credit for teaching her something must have been great.] [footnote : mrs. anne oldfield, born about , was introduced to vanbrugh by farquhar, who accidentally heard her reading aloud, and was struck by her dramatic style. cibber gives so full an account of her that it is only necessary to add that she made her last appearance on th april, , at drury lane, and that she died on the rd october in the same year. it was of mrs. oldfield that pope wrote the often-quoted lines ("moral essays," epistle i., part iii.):-- "odious! in woollen! 'twould a saint provoke (were the last words that poor narcissa spoke), no, let a charming chintz and brussels lace wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face: one would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead-- and--betty--give this cheek a little red." i may note that, though cibber enlarges chiefly on her comedy acting, she acted many parts in tragedy with the greatest success.] [footnote : produced th december, , at drury lane. "the careless husband." lord morelove .............. mr. powel. lord foppington ............ mr. cibber. sir charles easy ........... mr. wilks. lady betty modish .......... mrs. oldfield. lady easy .................. mrs. knight. lady graveairs ............. mrs. moore. mrs. edging ................ mrs. lucas.] [footnote : mrs. oldfield played lady townly in the "provoked husband," th january, . i presume that cibber means that this was her last _important_ original part, for she was the original representative of sophonisba (by james thomson) and other characters after january, .] [footnote : "the provoked husband." lord townly ............... mr. wilks. lady townly ............... mrs. oldfield. lady grace ................ mrs. porter. mr. manley ................ mr. mills, sen. sir francis wronghead ..... mr. cibber, sen. lady wronghead ............ mrs. thurmond. squire richard ............ young wetherelt. miss jenny ................ mrs. cibber. john moody ................ mr. miller. count basset .............. mr. bridgewater. mrs. motherly ............. mrs. moore. myrtilla .................. mrs. grace. mrs. trusty .................... mrs. mills. vanbrugh left behind him nearly four acts of a play entitled "a journey to london," which cibber completed, calling the finished work "the provoked husband." it was produced at drury lane on th january, .] [footnote : "verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis offendar maculis."--horace, _ars poetica_, .] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "but i can see no occasion you have to mention any errors. she had fewer as an actress than any; and neither you, nor i, have any right to enquire into her conduct any where else."] [footnote : the following is the passage referred to:-- "but there is no doing right to mrs. oldfield, without putting people in mind of what others, of great merit, have wanted to come near her--'tis not enough to say, she here outdid her usual excellence. i might therefore justly leave her to the constant admiration of those spectators who have the pleasure of living while she is an actress. but as this is not the only time she has been the life of what i have given the public, so, perhaps, my saying a little more of so memorable an actress, may give this play a chance to be read when the people of this age shall be ancestors--may it therefore give emulation to our successors of the stage, to know, that to the ending of the year , a cotemporary comedian relates, that mrs. oldfield was then in her highest excellence of action, happy in all the rarely found requisites that meet in one person to complete them for the stage. she was in stature just rising to that height, where the graceful can only begin to show itself; of a lively aspect, and a command in her mien, that like the principal figure in the finest painting, first seizes, and longest delights, the eye of the spectators. her voice was sweet, strong, piercing, and melodious; her pronunciation voluble, distinct, and musical; and her emphasis always placed, where the spirit of the sense, in her periods, only demanded it. if she delighted more in the higher comic, than in the tragic strain, 'twas because the last is too often written in a lofty disregard of nature. but in characters of modern practised life, she found occasion to add the particular air and manner which distinguished the different humours she presented; whereas, in tragedy, the manner of speaking varies as little as the blank verse it is written in.--she had one peculiar happiness from nature, she looked and maintained the agreeable, at a time when other fine women only raise admirers by their understanding--the spectator was always as much informed by her eyes as her elocution; for the look is the only proof that an actor rightly conceives what he utters, there being scarce an instance, where the eyes do their part, that the elocution is known to be faulty. the qualities she had acquired, were the genteel and the elegant; the one in her air, and the other in her dress, never had her equal on the stage; and the ornaments she herself provided (particularly in this play) seemed in all respects the _paraphernalia_ of a woman of quality. and of that sort were the characters she chiefly excelled in; but her natural good sense, and lively turn of conversation, made her way so easy to ladies of the highest rank, that it is a less wonder if, on the stage, she sometimes was, what might have become the finest woman in real life to have supported." [bell's edition.]] [footnote : mr. julian marshall, in his "annals of tennis," p. , describes the two different sorts of tennis courts--"that which was called _le quarré_, or the square; and the other with the _dedans_, which is almost the same as that of the present day." cibber is thus correct in mentioning that the court was one of the lesser sort.] [footnote : interesting confirmation of cibber's statement is furnished by an edict of the lord chamberlain, dated th november, , by which betterton is ordered "to take upon him ye sole management" of the lincoln's inn fields company, there having been great disorders, "for want of sufficient authority to keep them to their duty." see david craufurd's preface to "courtship à la mode" ( ), for an account of the disorganized state of the lincoln's inn fields company. he says that though betterton did his best, some of the actors neither learned their parts nor attended rehearsals; and he therefore withdrew his comedy and took it to drury lane, where it was promptly produced.] [footnote : mons. castil-blaze, in his "la danse et les ballets," , p. , writes: "ballon danse avec énergie et vivacité; mademoiselle de subligny se fait généralement admirer pour sa danse noble et gracieuse." madlle. subligny was one of the first women who were dancers by profession. "la demoiselle subligny parut peu de temps après la demoiselle fontaine [ ], et fut aussi fort applaudie pour sa danse; mais elle quitta le théâtre, en , et mourut après l'année ."--"histoire de l'opéra." of mons. l'abbé i have been unable to discover any critical notice.] [footnote : downes ("roscius anglicanus," p. ) says: "in the space of ten years past, mr. _betterton_ to gratify the desires and fancies of the nobility and gentry; procur'd from abroad the best dances and singers, as monsieur _l'abbe_, madam _sublini_, monsieur _balon_, _margarita delpine_, _maria gallia_ and divers others; who being exhorbitantly expensive, produc'd small profit to him and his company, but vast gain to themselves." gildon, in the "comparison between the two stages," alludes to some of these dancers:-- "_sull._ the town ran mad to see him [balon], and the prizes were rais'd to an extravagant degree to bear the extravagant rate they allow'd him" (p. ). "_crit._ there's another toy now [madame subligny]--gad, there's not a year but some surprizing monster lands: i wonder they don't first show her at _fleet-bridge_ with an old drum and a crackt trumpet" (p. ). ] [footnote : in the prologue to "the ambitious stepmother," produced at lincoln's inn fields in (probably), rowe writes:-- "the stage would need no farce, nor song nor dance, nor capering monsieur brought from active france." and in the epilogue (not prologue, as cibber says):-- "show but a mimick ape, or french buffoon, you to the other house in shoals are gone, and leave us here to tune our crowds alone. must shakespear, fletcher, and laborious ben, be left for scaramouch and harlaquin?"] [footnote : in "the constant couple," and its sequel, "sir harry wildair."] [footnote : this theatre, opened th april, , was burnt down th june, ; rebuilt ; again burnt in . during its existence it has borne the name of queen's theatre, opera house, king's theatre, and its present title of her majesty's theatre.] [footnote : the beautiful lady sunderland. mr. percy fitzgerald ("new history," i. ) states that it was said that workmen, on th march, , found a stone with the inscription: "april th, . this corner-stone of the queen's theatre was laid by his grace charles duke of somerset."] [footnote : should be . downes (p. ) says: "about the end of , mr. _betterton_ assign'd his license, and his whole company over to captain _vantbrugg_ to _act_ under his, at the theatre in the _hay market_." vanbrugh opened his theatre on th april, .] [footnote : in dryden's prologue at the opening of drury lane in , in comparing the situation of drury lane with that of dorset garden, which was at the east end of fleet street, he talks of "... a cold bleak road, where bears in furs dare scarcely look abroad." this is now the strand and fleet street! no doubt the road westward to the haymarket was equally wild.] [footnote : this experiment was never tried. from the time cibber wrote, the house was used as an opera house.] [footnote : "to court, her seat imperial dulness shall transport. already opera prepares the way, the sure fore-runner of her gentle sway." "dunciad," iii. verses - . "when lo! a harlot form soft sliding by, with mincing step, small voice, and languid eye; foreign her air, her robe's discordant pride in patchwork fluttering, and her head aside; by singing peers upheld on either hand, she tripp'd and laugh'd, too pretty much to stand." "dunciad," iv. verses - .] [footnote : salvini, the great italian actor, played in america with an english company, he speaking in italian, they answering in english: i have myself seen a similar polyglot performance at the edinburgh lyceum theatre, where the manager, mr. j. b. howard, acted iago (in english), while signor salvini and his company played in italian. i confess the effect was not so startling as i expected.] [footnote : "the confederacy" was not produced till the following season-- th october, .] [footnote : it was acted ten times.] [footnote : genest (ii. ) says that congreve resigned his share at the close of the season - .] [footnote : cibber should have said "the confederacy." "the cuckold in conceit" has never been printed, and genest doubts if it is by vanbrugh. besides, it was not produced till nd march, .] [footnote : "the mistake" was produced th december, . "squire trelooby," which was first played in , was revived th january, , with a new second act.] [footnote : a junction of the companies seems to have been talked of as early as . in the prologue to "the unhappy penitent" ( ), the lines occur:-- "but now the peaceful tattle of the town, is how to join both houses into one."] [footnote : in "the post-boy rob'd of his mail," p. , some curious particulars of the negotiations for a union are given. one of rich's objections to it is that he has to consider the interests of his partners, with some of whom he has already been compelled to go to law on monetary questions.] [footnote : in july, , rich was approached on behalf of vanbrugh regarding a union, and the lord chamberlain supported the latter's proposal. rich, in declining, wrote: "i am concern'd with above forty persons in number, either as adventurers under the two patents granted to sir _william davenant,_ and _tho. killigrew_, esq.; or as renters of _covent-garden_ and _dorset-garden_ theatres.... i am a purchaser under the patents, to above the value of two thousand pounds (a great part of which was under the marriage-settlements of dr. _davenant_)."--"the post-boy rob'd of his mail," p. .] [footnote : owen swiney, or mac swiney, was an irishman. as is related by cibber in this and following chapters, he leased the haymarket from vanbrugh from the beginning of the season - . at the union, - , the haymarket was made over to him for the production of operas; and when, at the end of - , rich was ordered to silence his company at drury lane, swiney was allowed to engage the chief of rich's actors to play at the haymarket, where they opened september, . at the beginning of season - , swiney and his partners became managers of drury lane, but swiney was forced at the end of that season to resume the management of the operas. after a year of the opera-house (end of - ), swiney was ruined and had to go abroad. he remained abroad some twenty years. on th february, , he had a benefit at drury lane, at which cibber played for his old friend. the "biographia dramatica" says that he received a place in the custom house, and was made keeper of the king's mews. he died nd october, , leaving his property to mrs. woffington. davies, in his "dramatic miscellanies" (i. ), tells an idle tale of a scuffle between swiney and mrs. clive's brother, which bellchambers quotes at length, though it has no special reference to anything.] [footnote : at drury lane this season ( - ) very few plays were acted, rich relying chiefly on operas.] [footnote : cibber seems to be wrong in including estcourt in this list. his name appears in the drury lane bills for - , and his great part of sergeant kite ("recruiting officer") was played at the haymarket by pack. on th november, , it was advertised that "the true sergeant kite is performed at drury lane."] [footnote : see memoir of theophilus keen at end of second volume.] [footnote : downes (p. ) gives the following account of the transaction:-- "in this interval captain _vantbrugg_ by agreement with mr. _swinny_, and by the concurrence of my lord chamberlain, transferr'd and invested his license and government of the theatre to mr. _swinny_; who brought with him from mr. _rich_, mr. _wilks_, mr. _cyber_, mr. _mills_, mr. _johnson_, mr. _keene_, mr. _norris_, mr. _fairbank_, mrs. _oldfield_ and others; united them to the old company; mr. _betterton_ and mr. _underhill_, being the only remains of the duke of _york's_ servants, from , till the union in _october_ ."] [footnote : the chief actors left at drury lane were estcourt, pinkethman, powell, capt. griffin, mrs. tofts, mrs. mountfort (that is, the great mrs. mountfort's daughter), and mrs. cross: a miserably weak company.] [footnote : swiney's company began to act at the haymarket on th october, . cibber's first appearance seems to have been on th november, when he played lord foppington in "the careless husband."] * * * * * * transcription note: the index, originally printed in volume ii and covering both volumes, has been copied to the end of this volume for the convenience of the reader. the original spelling and grammar have been retained. footnotes have been moved to the end of this work. minor adjustments to hyphenation and other punctuation have been made without annotation. typographical changes to this volume: pg lvi (sidenote) in london or westmister[westminster] pg liii added heading [letters patent for erecting a new theatre] pg had military commissions; carlisle [carlile] pg in a full rowd[crowd] of courtiers pg nd[and] therefore they shall know pg falls into this rhapsody of vain-lory[vain-glory] pg that would have been the [extra the] least part pg likeness of these theatrical portraicts[portraits] pg he had this wholsom[wholesome] fn played at dorset garden; "pysche"["psyche"] followed available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/anapologyforlife cibbuoft project gutenberg has the other volume of this work. volume i: see http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/ transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). a carat character is used to denote superscription. a single character following the carat is superscripted (example: y^m). multiple superscripted characters are enclosed by curly brackets (example: ^{th}). the scribal abbreviation found in footnote is represented by the notation {c~o}. an apology for the life of mr. colley cibber. _volume the second._ _note._ _ copies printed on this fine deckle-edge demy vo paper for england and america, with the portraits as india proofs after letters._ _each copy is numbered, and the type distributed._ _no._ [illustration: colley cibber as lord foppington.] an apology for the life of mr. colley cibber _written by himself_ a new edition with notes and supplement by robert w. lowe _with twenty-six original mezzotint portraits by r. b. parkes, and eighteen etchings by adolphe lalauze_ _in two volumes_ volume the second london john c. nimmo , king william street, strand mdccclxxxix chiswick press printed by charles whittingham and co. tooks court, chancery lane, london, e.c. contents. chapter x. page the recruited actors in the hay-market encourag'd by a subscription, etc. chapter xi. some chimÆrical thoughts of making the stage useful, etc. chapter xii. a short view of the opera when first divided from the comedy, etc. chapter xiii. the patentee, having now no actors, rebuilds the new theatre in lincolns-inn-fields, etc. chapter xiv. the stage in its highest prosperity, etc. chapter xv. sir richard steele succeeds collier in the theatre-royal, etc. chapter xvi. the author steps out of his way. pleads his theatrical cause in chancery, etc. supplementary chapter bibliography of colley cibber a brief supplement to colley cibber, esq; his lives of the late famous actors and actresses memoirs of actors and actresses list of mezzotint portraits. newly engraved by r. b. parkes. volume the second. page i. colley cibber, in the character of "sir novelty fashion, newley created lord foppington," in vanbrugh's play of "the relapse; or, virtue in danger." from the painting by j. grisoni. the property of the garrick club. _frontispiece_ ii. owen swiney. after the painting by john baptist vanloo. iii. anne oldfield. from the picture by jonathan richardson. iv. theophilus cibber, in the character of "antient pistol." v. hester santlow (mrs. barton booth). after an original picture from the life. vi. robert wilks. after the painting by john ellys, . vii. richard steele. from the painting by jonathan richardson, . viii. barton booth. from the picture by george white. ix. susanna maria cibber. after a painting by thomas hudson. x. charles fleetwood. "sir fopling flutter arrested." "drawn from a real scene." john dixon _ad vivum del et fect_. xi. alexander pope, at the age of . after the picture by sir godfrey kneller, painted in . xii. susanna maria cibber, in the character of cordelia, "king lear," act iii. after the picture by peter van bleeck. xiii. cave underhill, in the character of obadiah, "the fanatic elder." after the picture by robert bing, . list of chapter headings. newly etched from contemporary drawings by adolphe lalauze. volume the second. x. scene illustrating cibber's "careless husband." after the picture by philip mercier. xi. coffee-house scene of cibber's day, "drawn from the life" by g. vander gucht. xii. scene illustrating "the italian opera," with senesino, cuzzoni, &c. from a contemporary design. xiii. scene illustrating farquhar's "recruiting officer." after the picture by philip mercier. xiv. scene illustrating addison's "cato." after the contemporary design by lud. du guernier. xv. scene illustrating vanbrugh and cibber's "provoked husband." after the contemporary design by j. vanderbank. xvi. scene illustrating vanbrugh's "provoked wife." after the contemporary design by arnold vanhaecken. xvii. "the stage mutiny," with portraits of theophilus cibber as "antient pistol," mrs. wilks, and others, in character; colley cibber as poet laureate, with his lap filled with bags of money. from a pictorial satire of the time. xviii. anthony aston's "the fool's opera." an apology for the life of mr. colley cibber, &c. chapter x. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the recruited actors in the_ hay-market _encourag'd by a subscription_. drury-lane _under a particular management_. _the power of a lord-chamberlain over the theatres consider'd. how it had been formerly exercis'd. a digression to tragick authors._ having shewn the particular conduct of the patentee in refusing so fair an opportunity of securing to himself both companies under his sole power and interest, i shall now lead the reader, after a short view of what pass'd in this new establishment of the _hay-market_ theatre, to the accidents that the year following compell'd the same patentee to receive both companies, united, into the _drury-lane_ theatre, notwithstanding his disinclination to it. it may now be imagin'd that such a detachment of actors from _drury-lane_ could not but give a new spirit to those in the _hay-market_; not only by enabling them to act each others plays to better advantage, but by an emulous industry which had lain too long inactive among them, and without which they plainly saw they could not be sure of subsistence. plays by this means began to recover a good share of their former esteem and favour; and the profits of them in about a month enabled our new menager to discharge his debt (of something more than two hundred pounds) to his old friend the patentee, who had now left him and his troop in trust to fight their own battles. the greatest inconvenience they still laboured under was the immoderate wideness of their house, in which, as i have observ'd, the difficulty of hearing may be said to have bury'd half the auditors entertainment. this defect seem'd evident from the much better reception several new plays (first acted there) met with when they afterwards came to be play'd by the same actors in _drury-lane_: of this number were the _stratagem_[ ] and the _wife's resentment_;[ ] to which i may add the _double gallant_.[ ] this last was a play made up of what little was tolerable in two or three others that had no success, and were laid aside as so much poetical lumber; but by collecting and adapting the best parts of them all into one play, the _double gallant_ has had a place every winter amongst the publick entertainments these thirty years. as i was only the compiler of this piece i did not publish it in my own name; but as my having but a hand in it could not be long a secret, i have been often treated as a plagiary on that account: not that i think i have any right to complain of whatever would detract from the merit of that sort of labour, yet a cobler may be allow'd to be useful though he is not famous:[ ] and i hope a man is not blameable for doing a little good, tho' he cannot do as much as another? but so it is--twopenny criticks must live as well as eighteenpenny authors![ ] while the stage was thus recovering its former strength, a more honourable mark of favour was shewn to it than it was ever known before or since to have receiv'd. the then lord _hallifax_ was not only the patron of the men of genius of this time, but had likewise a generous concern for the reputation and prosperity of the theatre, from whence the most elegant dramatick labours of the learned, he knew, had often shone in their brightest lustre. a proposal therefore was drawn up and addressed to that noble lord for his approbation and assistance to raise a publick subscription for reviving three plays of the best authors, with the full strength of the company; every subscriber to have three tickets for the first day of each play for his single payment of three guineas. this subscription his lordship so zealously encouraged, that from his recommendation chiefly, in a very little time it was compleated. the plays were _julius cæsar_ of _shakespear_; the _king and no king_ of _fletcher_, and the comic scenes of _drydens marriage à la mode_ and of his _maiden queen_ put together;[ ] for it was judg'd that, as these comic episodes were utterly independent of the serious scenes they were originally written to, they might on this occasion be as well episodes either to the other, and so make up five livelier acts between them: at least the project so well succeeded, that those comic parts have never since been replaced, but were continued to be jointly acted as one play several years after. by the aid of this subscription, which happen'd in , and by the additional strength and industry of this company, not only the actors (several of which were handsomely advanc'd in their sallaries) were duly paid, but the menager himself, too, at the foot of his account, stood a considerable gainer. at the same time the patentee of _drury-lane_ went on in his usual method of paying extraordinary prices to singers, dancers, and other exotick performers, which were as constantly deducted out of the sinking sallaries of his actors: 'tis true his actors perhaps might not deserve much more than he gave them; yet, by what i have related, it is plain he chose not to be troubled with such as visibly had deserv'd more: for it seems he had not purchas'd his share of the patent to mend the stage, but to make money of it: and to say truth, his sense of every thing to be shewn there was much upon a level with the taste of the multitude, whose opinion and whose money weigh'd with him full as much as that of the best judges. his point was to please the majority, who could more easily comprehend any thing they _saw_ than the daintiest things that could be said to them. but in this notion he kept no medium; for in my memory he carry'd it so far that he was (some few years before this time) actually dealing for an extraordinary large elephant at a certain sum for every day he might think fit to shew the tractable genius of that vast quiet creature in any play or farce in the theatre (then standing) in _dorset-garden_. but from the jealousy which so formidable a rival had rais'd in his dancers, and by his bricklayer's assuring him that if the walls were to be open'd wide enough for its entrance it might endanger the fall of the house, he gave up his project, and with it so hopeful a prospect of making the receipts of the stage run higher than all the wit and force of the best writers had ever yet rais'd them to.[ ] about the same time of his being under this disappointment he put in practice another project of as new, though not of so bold a nature; which was his introducing a set of rope-dancers into the same theatre; for the first day of whose performance he had given out some play in which i had a material part: but i was hardy enough to go into the pit and acquaint the spectators near me, that i hop'd they would not think it a mark of my disrespect to them, if i declin'd acting upon any stage that was brought to so low a disgrace as ours was like to be by that day's entertainment. my excuse was so well taken that i never after found any ill consequences, or heard of the least disapprobation of it: and the whole body of actors, too, protesting against such an abuse of their profession, our cautious master was too much alarm'd and intimidated to repeat it. after what i have said, it will be no wonder that all due regards to the original use and institution of the stage should be utterly lost or neglected: nor was the conduct of this menager easily to be alter'd while he had found the secret of making money out of disorder and confusion: for however strange it may seem, i have often observ'd him inclin'd to be cheerful in the distresses of his theatrical affairs, and equally reserv'd and pensive when they went smoothly forward with a visible profit. upon a run of good audiences he was more frighted to be thought a gainer, which might make him accountable to others, than he was dejected with bad houses, which at worst he knew would make others accountable to him: and as, upon a moderate computation, it cannot be supposed that the contested accounts of a twenty year's wear and tear in a play-house could be fairly adjusted by a master in chancery under four-score years more, it will be no surprize that by the neglect, or rather the discretion, of other proprietors in not throwing away good money after bad, this hero of a menager, who alone supported the war, should in time so fortify himself by delay, and so tire his enemies, that he became sole monarch of his theatrical empire, and left the quiet possession of it to his successors. if these facts seem too trivial for the attention of a sensible reader, let it be consider'd that they are not chosen fictions to _entertain_, but truths necessary to _inform_ him under what low shifts and disgraces, what disorders and revolutions, the stage labour'd before it could recover that strength and reputation wherewith it began to flourish towards the latter end of queen _anne_'s reign; and which it continued to enjoy for a course of twenty years following. but let us resume our account of the new settlement in the _hay-market_. it may be a natural question why the actors whom _swiney_ brought over to his undertaking in the _hay-market_ would tie themselves down to limited sallaries? for though he as their menager was obliged to make them certain payments, it was not certain that the receipts would enable him to do it; and since their own industry was the only visible fund they had to depend upon, why would they not for that reason insist upon their being sharers as well of possible profits as losses? how far in this point they acted right or wrong will appear from the following state of their case. it must first be consider'd that this scheme of their desertion was all concerted and put in execution in a week's time, which short warning might make them overlook that circumstance, and the sudden prospect of being deliver'd from having seldom more than half their pay was a contentment that had bounded all their farther views. besides, as there could be no room to doubt of their receiving their full pay previous to any profits that might be reap'd by their labour, and as they had no great reason to apprehend those profits could exceed their respective sallaries so far as to make them repine at them, they might think it but reasonable to let the chance of any extraordinary gain be on the side of their leader and director. but farther, as this scheme had the approbation of the court, these actors in reality had it not in their power to alter any part of it: and what induced the court to encourage it was, that by having the theatre and its menager more immediately dependent on the power of the lord chamberlain, it was not doubted but the stage would be recover'd into such a reputation as might now do honour to that absolute command which the court or its officers seem'd always fond of having over it. here, to set the constitution of the stage in a clearer light, it may not be amiss to look back a little on the power of a lord chamberlain, which, as may have been observ'd in all changes of the theatrical government, has been the main spring without which no scheme of what kind soever could be set in motion. my intent is not to enquire how far by law this power has been limited or extended; but merely as an historian to relate facts to gratify the curious, and then leave them to their own reflections: this, too, i am the more inclin'd to, because there is no one circumstance which has affected the stage wherein so many spectators, from those of the highest rank to the vulgar, have seem'd more positively knowing or less inform'd in. though in all the letters patent for acting plays, _&c._ since king _charles_ the _first_'s time there has been no mention of the lord chamberlain, or of any subordination to his command or authority, yet it was still taken for granted that no letters patent, by the bare omission of such a great officer's name, could have superseded or taken out of his hands that power which time out of mind he always had exercised over the theatre.[ ] the common opinions then abroad were, that if the profession of actors was unlawful, it was not in the power of the crown to license it; and if it were not unlawful, it ought to be free and independent as other professions; and that a patent to exercise it was only an honorary favour from the crown to give it a better grace of recommendation to the publick. but as the truth of this question seem'd to be wrapt in a great deal of obscurity, in the old laws made in former reigns relating to players, _&c._ it may be no wonder that the best companies of actors should be desirous of taking shelter under the visible power of a lord chamberlain who they knew had at his pleasure favoured and protected or born hard upon them: but be all this as it may, a lord chamberlain (from whencesoever his power might be derived) had till of later years had always an implicit obedience paid to it: i shall now give some few instances in what manner it was exercised. what appear'd to be most reasonably under his cognizance was the licensing or refusing new plays, or striking out what might be thought offensive in them: which province had been for many years assign'd to his inferior officer, the master of the revels; yet was not this license irrevocable; for several plays, though acted by that permission, had been silenced afterwards. the first instance of this kind that common fame has deliver'd down to us, is that of the _maid's tragedy_ of _beaumont_ and _fletcher_, which was forbid in king _charles_ the _second_'s time, by an order from the lord chamberlain. for what reason this interdiction was laid upon it the politicks of those days have only left us to guess. some said that the killing of the king in that play, while the tragical death of king _charles_ the _first_ was then so fresh in people's memory, was an object too horribly impious for a publick entertainment. what makes this conjecture seem to have some foundation, is that the celebrated _waller_, in compliment to that court, alter'd the last act of this play (which is printed at the end of his works) and gave it a new catastrophe, wherein the life of the king is loyally saved, and the lady's matter made up with a less terrible reparation. others have given out, that a repenting mistress, in a romantick revenge of her dishonour, killing the king in the very bed he expected her to come into, was shewing a too dangerous example to other _evadnes_ then shining at court in the same rank of royal distinction; who, if ever their consciences should have run equally mad, might have had frequent opportunities of putting the expiation of their frailty into the like execution. but this i doubt is too deep a speculation, or too ludicrous a reason, to be relied on; it being well known that the ladies then in favour were not so nice in their notions as to think their preferment their dishonour, or their lover a tyrant: besides, that easy monarch loved his roses without thorns; nor do we hear that he much chose to be himself the first gatherer of them.[ ] the _lucius junius brutus_ of _nat. lee_[ ] was in the same reign silenced after the third day of acting it; it being objected that the plan and sentiments of it had too boldly vindicated, and might enflame republican principles. a prologue (by _dryden_) to the _prophetess_ was forbid by the lord _dorset_ after the first day of its being spoken.[ ] this happen'd when king _william_ was prosecuting the war in _ireland_. it must be confess'd that this prologue had some familiar, metaphorical sneers at the revolution itself; and as the poetry of it was good, the offence of it was less pardonable. the tragedy of _mary_ queen of _scotland_[ ] had been offer'd to the stage twenty years before it was acted: but from the profound penetration of the master of the revels, who saw political spectres in it that never appear'd in the presentation, it had lain so long upon the hands of the author; who had at last the good fortune to prevail with a nobleman to favour his petition to queen _anne_ for permission to have it acted: the queen had the goodness to refer the merit of his play to the opinion of that noble person, although he was not her majesty's lord chamberlain; upon whose report of its being every way an innocent piece, it was soon after acted with success. reader, by your leave----i will but just speak a word or two to any author that has not yet writ one line of his next play, and then i will come to my point again----what i would say to him is this--sir, before you set pen to paper, think well and principally of your design or chief action, towards which every line you write ought to be drawn, as to its centre: if we can say of your finest sentiments, this or that might be left out without maiming the story, you would tell us, depend upon it, that fine thing is said in a wrong place; and though you may urge that a bright thought is not to be resisted, you will not be able to deny that those very fine lines would be much finer if you could find a proper occasion for them: otherwise you will be thought to take less advice from _aristotle_ or _horace_ than from poet _bays_ in the _rehearsal_, who very smartly says--_what the devil is the plot good for but to bring in fine things?_ compliment the taste of your hearers as much as you please with them, provided they belong to your subject, but don't, like a dainty preacher who has his eye more upon this world than the next, leave your text for them. when your fable is good, every part of it will cost you much less labour to keep your narration alive, than you will be forced to bestow upon those elegant discourses that are not absolutely conducive to your catastrophe or main purpose: scenes of that kind shew but at best the unprofitable or injudicious spirit of a genius. it is but a melancholy commendation of a fine thought to say, when we have heard it, _well! but what's all this to the purpose?_ take, therefore, in some part, example by the author last mention'd! there are three plays of his, the _earl_ of _essex_,[ ] _anna bullen_,[ ] and _mary queen of scots_, which, tho' they are all written in the most barren, barbarous stile that was ever able to keep possession of the stage, have all interested the hearts of his auditors. to what then could this success be owing, but to the intrinsick and naked value of the well-conducted tales he has simply told us? there is something so happy in the disposition of all his fables; all his chief characters are thrown into such natural circumstances of distress, that their misery or affliction wants very little assistance from the ornaments of stile or words to speak them. when a skilful actor is so situated, his bare plaintive tone of voice, the cast of sorrow from his eye, his slowly graceful gesture, his humble sighs of resignation under his calamities: all these, i say, are sometimes without a tongue equal to the strongest eloquence. at such a time the attentive auditor supplies from his own heart whatever the poet's language may fall short of in expression, and melts himself into every pang of humanity which the like misfortunes in real life could have inspir'd. after what i have observ'd, whenever i see a tragedy defective in its fable, let there be never so many fine lines in it; i hope i shall be forgiven if i impute that defect to the idleness, the weak judgment, or barren invention of the author. if i should be ask'd why i have not always my self follow'd the rules i would impose upon others; i can only answer, that whenever i have not, i lie equally open to the same critical censure. but having often observ'd a better than ordinary stile thrown away upon the loose and wandering scenes of an ill-chosen story, i imagin'd these observations might convince some future author of how great advantage a fable well plann'd must be to a man of any tolerable genius. all this i own is leading my reader out of the way; but if he has as much time upon his hands as i have, (provided we are neither of us tir'd) it may be equally to the purpose what he reads or what i write of. but as i have no objection to method when it is not troublesome, i return to my subject. hitherto we have seen no very unreasonable instance of this absolute power of a lord chamberlain, though we were to admit that no one knew of any real law, or construction of law, by which this power was given him. i shall now offer some facts relating to it of a more extraordinary nature, which i leave my reader to give a name to. about the middle of king _william_'s reign an order of the lord chamberlain was then subsisting that no actor of either company should presume to go from one to the other without a discharge from their respective menagers[ ] and the permission of the lord chamberlain. notwithstanding such order, _powel_, being uneasy at the favour _wilks_ was then rising into, had without such discharge left the _drury-lane_ theatre and engag'd himself to that of _lincolns-inn-fields_: but by what follows it will appear that this order was not so much intended to do both of them _good_, as to do that which the court chiefly favour'd (_lincolns-inn-fields_) no harm.[ ] for when _powel_ grew dissatisfy'd at his station there too, he return'd to _drury-lane_ (as he had before gone from it) without a discharge: but halt a little! here, on this side of the question, the order was to stand in force, and the same offence against it now was not to be equally pass'd over. he was the next day taken up by a messenger and confin'd to the porter's-lodge, where, to the best of my remembrance, he remain'd about two days; when the menagers of _lincolns-inn-fields_, not thinking an actor of his loose character worth their farther trouble, gave him up; though perhaps he was releas'd for some better reason.[ ] upon this occasion, the next day, behind the scenes at _drury-lane_, a person of great quality in my hearing enquiring of _powel_ into the nature of his offence, after he had heard it, told him, that if he had had patience or spirit enough to have staid in his confinement till he had given him notice of it, he would have found him a handsomer way of coming out of it. another time the same actor, _powel_, was provok'd at _will_'s coffee-house, in a dispute about the playhouse affairs, to strike a gentleman whose family had been sometimes masters of it; a complaint of this insolence was, in the absence of the lord-chamberlain, immediately made to the vice-chamberlain, who so highly resented it that he thought himself bound in honour to carry his power of redressing it as far as it could possibly go: for _powel_ having a part in the play that was acted the day after, the vice-chamberlain sent an order to silence the whole company for having suffer'd _powel_ to appear upon the stage before he had made that gentleman satisfaction, although the masters of the theatre had had no notice of _powel_'s misbehaviour: however, this order was obey'd, and remain'd in force for two or three days, 'till the same authority was pleas'd or advis'd to revoke it.[ ] from the measures this injur'd gentleman took for his redress, it may be judg'd how far it was taken for granted that a lord-chamberlain had an absolute power over the theatre. i shall now give an instance of an actor who had the resolution to stand upon the defence of his liberty against the same authority, and was reliev'd by it. in the same king's reign, _dogget_, who tho', from a severe exactness in his nature, he could be seldom long easy in any theatre, where irregularity, not to say injustice, too often prevail'd, yet in the private conduct of his affairs he was a prudent, honest man. he therefore took an unusual care, when he return'd to act under the patent in _drury-lane_, to have his articles drawn firm and binding: but having some reason to think the patentee had not dealt fairly with him, he quitted the stage and would act no more, rather chusing to lose his whatever unsatisfy'd demands than go through the chargeable and tedious course of the law to recover it. but the patentee, who (from other people's judgment) knew the value of him, and who wanted, too, to have him sooner back than the law could possibly bring him, thought the surer way would be to desire a shorter redress from the authority of the lord-chamberlain.[ ] accordingly, upon his complaint a messenger was immediately dispatch'd to _norwich_, where _dogget_ then was, to bring him up in custody: but doughty _dogget_, who had money in his pocket and the cause of liberty at his heart, was not in the least intimidated by this formidable summons. he was observ'd to obey it with a particular chearfulness, entertaining his fellow-traveller, the messenger, all the way in the coach (for he had protested against riding) with as much humour as a man of his business might be capable of tasting. and as he found his charges were to be defray'd, he, at every inn, call'd for the best dainties the country could afford or a pretended weak appetite could digest. at this rate they jollily roll'd on, more with the air of a jaunt than a journey, or a party of pleasure than of a poor devil in durance. upon his arrival in town he immediately apply'd to the lord chief justice _holt_ for his _habeas corpus_. as his case was something particular, that eminent and learned minister of the law took a particular notice of it: for _dogget_ was not only discharg'd, but the process of his confinement (according to common fame) had a censure pass'd upon it in court, which i doubt i am not lawyer enough to repeat! to conclude, the officious agents in this affair, finding that in _dogget_ they had mistaken their man, were mollify'd into milder proceedings, and (as he afterwards told me) whisper'd something in his ear that took away _dogget_'s farther uneasiness about it. by these instances we see how naturally power only founded on custom is apt, where the law is silent, to run into excesses, and while it laudably pretends to govern others, how hard it is to govern itself. but since the law has lately open'd its mouth, and has said plainly that some part of this power to govern the theatre shall be, and is plac'd in a proper person; and as it is evident that the power of that white staff, ever since it has been in the noble hand that now holds it, has been us'd with the utmost lenity, i would beg leave of the murmuring multitude who frequent the theatre to offer them a simple question or two, _viz._ pray, gentlemen, how came you, or rather your fore-fathers, never to be mutinous upon any of the occasional facts i have related? and why have you been so often tumultuous upon a law's being made that only confirms a less power than was formerly exercis'd without any law to support it? you cannot, sure, say such discontent is either just or natural, unless you allow it a maxim in your politicks that power exercis'd _without_ law is a less grievance than the same power exercis'd _according_ to law! having thus given the clearest view i was able of the usual regard paid to the power of a lord-chamberlain, the reader will more easily conceive what influence and operation that power must naturally have in all theatrical revolutions, and particularly in the complete re-union of both companies, which happen'd in the year following. chapter xi. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _some chimærical thoughts of making the stage useful: some, to its reputation. the patent unprofitable to all the proprietors but one. a fourth part of it given away to colonel_ brett. _a digression to his memory. the two companies of actors reunited by his interest and menagement. the first direction of operas only given to mr._ swiney. from the time that the company of actors in the _hay-market_ was recruited with those from _drury-lane_, and came into the hands of their new director, _swiney_, the theatre for three or four years following suffer'd so many convulsions, and was thrown every other winter under such different interests and menagement before it came to a firm and lasting settlement, that i am doubtful if the most candid reader will have patience to go through a full and fair account of it: and yet i would fain flatter my self that those who are not too wise to frequent the theatre (or have wit enough to distinguish what sort of sights there either do honour or disgrace to it) may think their national diversion no contemptible subject for a more able historian than i pretend to be: if i have any particular qualification for the task more than another it is that i have been an ocular witness of the several facts that are to fill up the rest of my volume, and am perhaps the only person living (however unworthy) from whom the same materials can be collected; but let them come from whom they may, whether at best they will be worth reading, perhaps a judgment may be better form'd after a patient perusal of the following digression. in whatever cold esteem the stage may be among the wise and powerful, it is not so much a reproach to those who contentedly enjoy it in its lowest condition, as that condition of it is to those who (though they cannot but know to how valuable a publick use a theatre, well establish'd, might be rais'd) yet in so many civiliz'd nations have neglected it. this perhaps will be call'd thinking my own wiser than all the wise heads in _europe_. but i hope a more humble sense will be given to it; at least i only mean, that if so many governments have their reasons for their disregard of their theatres, those reasons may be deeper than my capacity has yet been able to dive into: if therefore my simple opinion is a wrong one, let the singularity of it expose me: and tho' i am only building a theatre in the air, it is there, however, at so little expence and in so much better a taste than any i have yet seen, that i cannot help saying of it, as a wiser man did (it may be) upon a wiser occasion: --_si quid novisti rectius istis, candidus imperti; si non_-- hor.[ ] give me leave to play with my project in fancy. i say, then, that as i allow nothing is more liable to debase and corrupt the minds of a people than a licentious theatre, so under a just and proper establishment it were possible to make it as apparently the school of manners and of virtue. were i to collect all the arguments that might be given for my opinion, or to inforce it by exemplary proofs, it might swell this short digression to a volume; i shall therefore trust the validity of what i have laid down to a single fact that may be still fresh in the memory of many living spectators. when the tragedy of _cato_ was first acted,[ ] let us call to mind the noble spirit of patriotism which that play then infus'd into the breasts of a free people that crowded to it; with what affecting force was that most elevated of human virtues recommended? even the false pretenders to it felt an unwilling conviction, and made it a point of honour to be foremost in their approbation; and this, too, at a time when the fermented nation had their different views of government. yet the sublime sentiments of liberty in that venerable character rais'd in every sensible hearer such conscious admiration, such compell'd assent to the conduct of a suffering virtue, as even _demanded_ two almost irreconcileable parties to embrace and join in their equal applauses of it.[ ] now, not to take from the merit of the writer, had that play never come to the stage, how much of this valuable effect of it must have been lost? it then could have had no more immediate weight with the publick than our poring upon the many ancient authors thro' whose works the same sentiments have been perhaps less profitably dispers'd, tho' amongst millions of readers; but by bringing such sentiments to the theatre and into action, what a superior lustre did they shine with? there _cato_ breath'd again in life; and though he perish'd in the cause of liberty, his virtue was victorious, and left the triumph of it in the heart of every melting spectator. if effects like these are laudable, if the representation of such plays can carry conviction with so much pleasure to the understanding, have they not vastly the advantage of any other human helps to eloquence? what equal method can be found to lead or stimulate the mind to a quicker sense of truth and virtue, or warm a people into the love and practice of such principles as might be at once a defence and honour to their country? in what shape could we listen to virtue with equal delight or appetite of instruction? the mind of man is naturally free, and when he is compell'd or menac'd into any opinion that he does not readily conceive, he is more apt to doubt the truth of it than when his capacity is led by delight into evidence and reason. to preserve a theatre in this strength and purity of morals is, i grant, what the wisest nations have not been able to perpetuate or to transmit long to their posterity: but this difficulty will rather heighten than take from the honour of the theatre: the greatest empires have decay'd for want of proper heads to guide them, and the ruins of them sometimes have been the subject of theatres that could not be themselves exempt from as various revolutions: yet may not the most natural inference from all this be, that the talents requisite to form good actors, great writers, and true judges were, like those of wise and memorable ministers, as well the gifts of fortune as of nature, and not always to be found in all climes or ages. or can there be a stronger modern evidence of the value of dramatick performances than that in many countries where the papal religion prevails the holy policy (though it allows not to an actor christian burial) is so conscious of the usefulness of his art that it will frequently take in the assistance of the theatre to give even sacred history, in a tragedy, a recommendation to the more pathetick regard of their people. how can such principles, in the face of the world, refuse the bones of a wretch the lowest benefit of christian charity after having admitted his profession (for which they deprive him of that charity) to serve the solemn purposes of religion? how far then is this religious inhumanity short of that famous painter's, who, to make his _crucifix_ a master-piece of nature, stabb'd the innocent hireling from whose body he drew it; and having heighten'd the holy portrait with his last agonies of life, then sent it to be the consecrated ornament of an altar? though we have only the authority of common fame for this story, yet be it true or false the comparison will still be just. or let me ask another question more humanly political. how came the _athenians_ to lay out an hundred thousand pounds upon the decorations of one single tragedy of _sophocles_?[ ] not, sure, as it was merely a spectacle for idleness or vacancy of thought to gape at, but because it was the most rational, most instructive and delightful composition that human wit had yet arrived at, and consequently the most worthy to be the entertainment of a wise and warlike nation: and it may be still a question whether the _sophocles_ inspir'd this publick spirit, or this publick spirit inspir'd the _sophocles_?[ ] but alas! as the power of giving or receiving such inspirations from either of these causes seems pretty well at an end, now i have shot my bolt i shall descend to talk more like a man of the age i live in: for, indeed, what is all this to a common _english_ reader? why truly, as _shakespear_ terms it--_caviare to the multitude!_[ ] honest _john trott_ will tell you, that if he were to believe what i have said of the _athenians_, he is at most but astonish'd at it; but that if the twentieth part of the sum i have mentioned were to be apply'd out of the publick money to the setting off the best tragedy the nicest noddle in the nation could produce, it would probably raise the passions higher in those that did not like it than in those that did; it might as likely meet with an insurrection as the applause of the people, and so, mayhap, be fitter for the subject of a tragedy than for a publick fund to support it.----truly, mr. _trott_, i cannot but own that i am very much of your opinion: i am only concerned that the theatre has not a better pretence to the care and further consideration of those governments where it is tolerated; but as what i have said will not probably do it any great harm, i hope i have not put you out of patience by throwing a few good wishes after an old acquaintance. to conclude this digression. if for the support of the stage what is generally shewn there must be lower'd to the taste of common spectators; or if it is inconsistent with liberty to mend that vulgar taste by making the multitude less merry there; or by abolishing every low and senseless jollity in which the understanding can have no share; whenever, i say, such is the state of the stage, it will be as often liable to unanswerable censure and manifest disgraces. yet there _was_ a time, not yet out of many people's memory, when it subsisted upon its own rational labours; when even success attended an attempt to reduce it to decency; and when actors themselves were hardy enough to hazard their interest in pursuit of so dangerous a reformation. and this crisis i am my self as impatient as any tir'd reader can be to arrive at. i shall therefore endeavour to lead him the shortest way to it. but as i am a little jealous of the badness of the road, i must reserve to myself the liberty of calling upon any matter in my way, for a little refreshment to whatever company may have the curiosity or goodness to go along with me. when the sole menaging patentee at _drury-lane_ for several years could never be persuaded or driven to any account with the adventurers, sir _thomas skipwith_ (who, if i am rightly inform'd, had an equal share with him[ ]) grew so weary of the affair that he actually made a present of his entire interest in it upon the following occasion. sir _thomas_ happen'd in the summer preceding the re-union of the companies to make a visit to an intimate friend of his, colonel _brett_, of _sandywell_, in _gloucestershire_; where the pleasantness of the place, and the agreeable manner of passing his time there, had raised him to such a gallantry of heart, that in return to the civilities of his friend the colonel he made him an offer of his whole right in the patent; but not to overrate the value of his present, told him he himself had made nothing of it these ten years: but the colonel (he said) being a greater favourite of the people in power, and (as he believ'd) among the actors too, than himself was, might think of some scheme to turn it to advantage, and in that light, if he lik'd it, it was at his service. after a great deal of raillery on both sides of what sir _thomas_ had _not_ made of it, and the particular advantages the colonel was likely to make of it, they came to a laughing resolution that an instrument should be drawn the next morning of an absolute conveyance of the premises. a gentleman of the law well known to them both happening to be a guest there at the same time, the next day produced the deed according to his instructions, in the presence of whom and of others it was sign'd, seal'd, and deliver'd to the purposes therein contain'd.[ ] this transaction may be another instance (as i have elsewhere observed) at how low a value the interests in a theatrical license were then held, tho' it was visible from the success of _swiney_ in that very year that with tolerable menagement they could at no time have fail'd of being a profitable purchase. the next thing to be consider'd was what the colonel should do with his new theatrical commission, which in another's possession had been of so little importance. here it may be necessary to premise that this gentleman was the first of any consideration since my coming to the stage with whom i had contracted a personal intimacy; which might be the reason why in this debate my opinion had some weight with him: of this intimacy, too, i am the more tempted to talk from the natural pleasure of calling back in age the pursuits and happy ardours of youth long past, which, like the ideas of a delightful spring in a winter's rumination, are sometimes equal to the former enjoyment of them. i shall, therefore, rather chuse in this place to gratify my self than my reader, by setting the fairest side of this gentleman in view, and by indulging a little conscious vanity in shewing how early in life i fell into the possession of so agreeable a companion: whatever failings he might have to others, he had none to me; nor was he, where he had them, without his valuable qualities to balance or soften them. let, then, what was not to be commended in him rest with his ashes, never to be rak'd into: but the friendly favours i received from him while living give me still a pleasure in paying this only mite of my acknowledgment in my power to his memory. and if my taking this liberty may find pardon from several of his fair relations still living, for whom i profess the utmost respect, it will give me but little concern tho' my critical readers should think it all impertinence. this gentleman, then, _henry_, was the eldest son of _henry brett_, esq; of _cowley_, in _gloucestershire_, who coming early to his estate of about two thousand a year, by the usual negligences of young heirs had, before this his eldest son came of age, sunk it to about half that value, and that not wholly free from incumbrances. mr. _brett_, whom i am speaking of, had his education, and i might say, ended it, at the university of _oxford_; for tho' he was settled some time after at the _temple_, he so little followed the law there that his neglect of it made the law (like some of his fair and frail admirers) very often follow _him_. as he had an uncommon share of social wit and a handsom person, with a sanguine bloom in his complexion, no wonder they persuaded him that he might have a better chance of fortune by throwing such accomplishments into the gayer world than by shutting them up in a study. the first view that fires the head of a young gentleman of this modish ambition just broke loose from business, is to cut a figure (as they call it) in a side-box at the play, from whence their next step is to the _green room_ behind the scenes, sometimes their _non ultra_. hither at last, then, in this hopeful quest of his fortune, came this gentleman-errant, not doubting but the fickle dame, while he was thus qualified to receive her, might be tempted to fall into his lap. and though possibly the charms of our theatrical nymphs might have their share in drawing him thither, yet in my observation the most visible cause of his first coming was a more sincere passion he had conceived for a fair full-bottom'd perriwig which i then wore in my first play of the _fool in fashion_ in the year .[ ] for it is to be noted that the _beaux_ of those days were of a quite different cast from the modern stamp, and had more of the stateliness of the peacock in their mien than (which now seems to be their highest emulation) the pert air of a lapwing. now, whatever contempt philosophers may have for a fine perriwig, my friend, who was not to despise the world, but to live in it, knew very well that so material an article of dress upon the head of a man of sense, if it became him, could never fail of drawing to him a more partial regard and benevolence than could possibly be hoped for in an ill-made one.[ ] this perhaps may soften the grave censure which so youthful a purchase might otherwise have laid upon him: in a word, he made his attack upon this perriwig, as your young fellows generally do upon a lady of pleasure, first by a few familiar praises of her person, and then a civil enquiry into the price of it. but upon his observing me a little surprized at the levity of his question about a fop's perriwig, he began to railly himself with so much wit and humour upon the folly of his fondness for it, that he struck me with an equal desire of granting any thing in my power to oblige so facetious a customer. this singular beginning of our conversation, and the mutual laughs that ensued upon it, ended in an agreement to finish our bargain that night over a bottle. if it were possible the relation of the happy indiscretions which passed between us that night could give the tenth part of the pleasure i then received from them, i could still repeat them with delight: but as it may be doubtful whether the patience of a reader may be quite so strong as the vanity of an author, i shall cut it short by only saying that single bottle was the sire of many a jolly dozen that for some years following, like orderly children, whenever they were call'd for, came into the same company. nor, indeed, did i think from that time, whenever he was to be had, any evening could be agreeably enjoy'd without him.[ ] but the long continuance of our intimacy perhaps may be thus accounted for. he who can taste wit in another may in some sort be said to have it himself: now, as i always had, and (i bless my self for the folly) still have a quick relish of whatever did or can give me delight: this gentleman could not but see the youthful joy i was generally raised to whenever i had the happiness of a _tête à tête_ with him; and it may be a moot point whether wit is not as often inspired by a proper attention as by the brightest reply to it. therefore, as he had wit enough for any two people, and i had attention enough for any four, there could not well be wanting a sociable delight on either side. and tho' it may be true that a man of a handsome person is apt to draw a partial ear to every thing he says; yet this gentleman seldom said any thing that might not have made a man of the plainest person agreeable. such a continual desire to please, it may be imagined, could not but sometimes lead him into a little venial flattery rather than not succeed in it. and i, perhaps, might be one of those flies that was caught in this honey. as i was then a young successful author and an actor in some unexpected favour, whether deservedly or not imports not; yet such appearances at least were plausible pretences enough for an amicable adulation to enlarge upon, and the sallies of it a less vanity than mine might not have been able to resist. whatever this weakness on my side might be, i was not alone in it; for i have heard a gentleman of condition say, who knew the world as well as most men that live in it, that let his discretion be ever so much upon its guard, he never fell into mr. _brett_'s company without being loth to leave it or carrying away a better opinion of himself from it. if his conversation had this effect among the men; what must we suppose to have been the consequence when he gave it a yet softer turn among the fair sex? here, now, a _french_ novellist would tell you fifty pretty lies of him; but as i chuse to be tender of secrets of that sort, i shall only borrow the good breeding of that language, and tell you in a word, that i knew several instances of his being _un homme à bonne fortune_. but though his frequent successes might generally keep him from the usual disquiets of a lover, he knew this was a life too liquorish to last; and therefore had reflexion enough to be govern'd by the advice of his friends to turn these his advantages of nature to a better use. among the many men of condition with whom his conversation had recommended him to an intimacy, sir _thomas skipwith_ had taken a particular inclination to him; and as he had the advancement of his fortune at heart, introduced him where there was a lady[ ] who had enough in her power to disencumber him of the world and make him every way easy for life. while he was in pursuit of this affair, which no time was to be lost in (for the lady was to be in town but for three weeks) i one day found him idling behind the scenes before the play was begun. upon sight of him i took the usual freedom he allow'd me, to rate him roundly for the madness of not improving every moment in his power in what was of such consequence to him. why are you not (said i) where you know you only should be? if your design should once get wind in the town, the ill-will of your enemies or the sincerity of the lady's friends may soon blow up your hopes, which in your circumstances of life cannot be long supported by the bare appearance of a gentleman.----but it is impossible to proceed without some apology for the very familiar circumstance that is to follow----yet, as it might not be so trivial in its effect as i fear it may be in the narration, and is a mark of that intimacy which is necessary should be known had been between us, i will honestly make bold with my scruples and let the plain truth of my story take its chance for contempt or approbation. after twenty excuses to clear himself of the neglect i had so warmly charged him with, he concluded them with telling me he had been out all the morning upon business, and that his linnen was too much soil'd to be seen in company. oh, ho! said i, is that all? come along with me, we will soon get over that dainty difficulty: upon which i haul'd him by the sleeve into my shifting-room, he either staring, laughing, or hanging back all the way. there, when i had lock'd him in, i began to strip off my upper cloaths, and bad him do the same; still he either did not, or would not seem to understand me, and continuing his laugh, cry'd, what! is the puppy mad? no, no, only positive, said i; for look you, in short, the play is ready to begin, and the parts that you and i are to act to day are not of equal consequence; mine of young _reveller_ (in _greenwich-park_[ ]) is but a rake; but whatever you may be, you are not to appear so; therefore take my shirt and give me yours; for depend upon't, stay here you shall not, and so go about your business. to conclude, we fairly chang'd linnen, nor could his mother's have wrap'd him up more fortunately; for in about ten days he marry'd the lady.[ ] in a year or two after his marriage he was chosen a member of that parliament which was sitting when king _william_ dy'd. and, upon raising of some new regiments, was made lieutenant-colonel to that of sir _charles hotham_. but as his ambition extended not beyond the bounds of a park wall and a pleasant retreat in the corner of it, which with too much expence he had just finish'd, he, within another year, had leave to resign his company to a younger brother. this was the figure in life he made when sir _thomas skipwith_ thought him the most proper person to oblige (if it could be an obligation) with the present of his interest in the patent. and from these anecdotes of my intimacy with him, it may be less a surprise, when he came to town invested with this new theatrical power, that i should be the first person to whom he took any notice of it. and notwithstanding he knew i was then engag'd, in another interest, at the _hay-market_, he desired we might consider together of the best use he could make of it, assuring me at the same time he should think it of none to himself unless it could in some shape be turn'd to my advantage. this friendly declaration, though it might be generous in him to make, was not needful to incline me in whatever might be honestly in my power, whether by interest or negotiation, to serve him. my first advice, therefore, was, that he should produce his deed to the other menaging patentee of _drury-lane_, and demand immediate entrance to a joint possession of all effects and powers to which that deed had given him an equal title. after which, if he met with no opposition to this demand (as upon sight of it he did not) that he should be watchful against any contradiction from his collegue in whatever he might propose in carrying on the affair, but to let him see that he was determin'd in all his measures. yet to heighten that resolution with an ease and temper in his manner, as if he took it for granted there could be no opposition made to whatever he had a mind to. for that this method, added to his natural talent of persuading, would imperceptibly lead his collegue into a reliance on his superior understanding, that however little he car'd for business he should give himself the air at least of enquiry into what _had_ been done, that what he intended to do might be thought more considerable and be the readier comply'd with: for if he once suffer'd his collegue to seem wiser than himself, there would be no end of his perplexing him with absurd and dilatory measures; direct and plain dealing being a quality his natural diffidence would never suffer him to be master of; of which his not complying with his verbal agreement with _swiney_, when the _hay-market_ house was taken for both their uses, was an evidence. and though some people thought it depth and policy in him to keep things often in confusion, it was ever my opinion they over-rated his skill, and that, in reality, his parts were too weak for his post, in which he had always acted to the best of his knowledge. that his late collegue, sir _thomas skipwith_, had trusted too much to his capacity for this sort of business, and was treated by him accordingly, without ever receiving any profits from it for several years: insomuch that when he found his interest in such desperate hands he thought the best thing he could do with it was (as he saw) to give it away. therefore if he (mr. _brett_) could once fix himself, as i had advis'd, upon a different foot with this hitherto untractable menager, the business would soon run through whatever channel he might have a mind to lead it. and though i allow'd the greatest difficulty he would meet with would be in getting his consent to a union of the two companies, which was the only scheme that could raise the patent to its former value, and which i knew this close menager would secretly lay all possible rubs in the way to; yet it was visible there was a way of reducing him to compliance: for though it was true his caution would never part with a straw by way of concession, yet to a high hand he would give up any thing, provided he were suffer'd to keep his title to it: if his hat were taken from his head in the street, he would make no farther resistance than to say, i _am not willing to part with it_. much less would he have the resolution openly to oppose any just measures, when he should find one, who with an equal right to his and with a known interest to bring them about, was resolv'd to go thro' with them. now though i knew my friend was as thoroughly acquainted with this patentee's temper as myself, yet i thought it not amiss to quicken and support his resolution, by confirming to him the little trouble he would meet with, in pursuit of the union i had advis'd him to; for it must be known that on our side trouble was a sort of physick we did not much care to take: but as the fatigue of this affair was likely to be lower'd by a good deal of entertainment and humour, which would naturally engage him in his dealing with so exotick a partner, i knew that this softening the business into a diversion would lessen every difficulty that lay in our way to it. however copiously i may have indulg'd my self in this commemoration of a gentleman with whom i had pass'd so many of my younger days with pleasure, yet the reader may by this insight into his character, and by that of the other patentee, be better able to judge of the secret springs that gave motion to or obstructed so considerable an event as that of the re-union of the two companies of actors in .[ ] in histories of more weight, for want of such particulars we are often deceiv'd in the true causes of facts that most concern us to be let into; which sometimes makes us ascribe to policy, or false appearances of wisdom, what perhaps in reality was the mere effect of chance or humour. immediately after mr. _brett_ was admitted as a joint patentee, he made use of the intimacy he had with the vice-chamberlain to assist his scheme of this intended union, in which he so far prevail'd that it was soon after left to the particular care of the same vice-chamberlain to give him all the aid and power necessary to the bringing what he desired to perfection. the scheme was, to have but one theatre for plays and another for operas, under separate interests. and this the generality of spectators, as well as the most approv'd actors, had been some time calling for as the only expedient to recover the credit of the stage and the valuable interests of its menagers. as the condition of the comedians at this time is taken notice of in my _dedication_ of the _wife's resentment_ to the marquis (now duke) of _kent_, and then lord-chamberlain, which was publish'd above thirty years ago,[ ] when i had no thought of ever troubling the world with this theatrical history, i see no reason why it may not pass as a voucher of the facts i am now speaking of; i shall therefore give them in the very light i then saw them. after some acknowledgment for his lordship's protection of our (_hay-market_) theatre, it is further said---- "the stage has, for many years, 'till of late, groan'd under the greatest discouragements, which have been very much, if not wholly, owing to the mismenagement of those that have aukwardly govern'd it. great sums have been ventur'd upon empty projects and hopes of immoderate gains, and when those hopes have fail'd, the loss has been tyrannically deducted out of the actors sallary. and if your lordship had not redeem'd them--_this is meant of our being suffer'd to come over_ to swiney----they were very near being wholly laid aside, or, at least, the use of their labour was to be swallow'd up in the pretended merit of singing and dancing." what follows relates to the difficulties in dealing with the then impracticable menager, _viz._ "--and though your lordship's tenderness of oppressing is so very just that you have rather staid to convince a man of your good intentions to him than to do him even a service against his will; yet since your lordship has so happily begun the establishment of the separate diversions, we live in hope that the same justice and resolution will still persuade you to go as successfully through with it. but while any man is suffer'd to confound the industry and use of them by acting publickly in opposition to your lordship's equal intentions, under a false and intricate pretence of not being able to comply with them, the town is likely to be more entertain'd with the private dissensions than the publick performance of either, and the actors in a perpetual fear and necessity of petitioning your lordship every season for new relief." such was the state of the stage immediately preceding the time of mr. _brett_'s being admitted a joint patentee, who, as he saw with clearer eyes what was its evident interest, left no proper measures unattempted to make this so long despair'd-of union practicable. the most apparent difficulty to be got over in this affair was, what could be done for _swiney_ in consideration of his being oblig'd to give up those actors whom the power and choice of the lord-chamberlain had the year before set him at the head of, and by whose menagement those actors had found themselves in a prosperous condition. but an accident at this time happily contributed to make that matter easy. the inclination of our people of quality for foreign operas had now reach'd the ears of _italy_, and the credit of their taste had drawn over from thence, without any more particular invitation, one of their capital singers, the famous signior _cavaliero nicolini_: from whose arrival, and the impatience of the town to hear him, it was concluded that operas being now so completely provided could not fail of success, and that by making _swiney_ sole director of them the profits must be an ample compensation for his resignation of the actors. this matter being thus adjusted by _swiney_'s acceptance of the opera only to be perform'd at the _hay-market_ house, the actors were all order'd to return to _drury-lane_, there to remain (under the patentees) her majesty's only company of comedians.[ ] chapter xii. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _a short view of the opera when first divided from the comedy. plays recover their credit. the old patentee uneasy at their success. why. the occasion of colonel_ brett'_s throwing up his share in the patent. the consequences of it. anecdotes of_ goodman _the actor. the rate of favourite actors in his time. the patentees, by endeavouring to reduce their price, lose them all a second time. the principal comedians return to the_ hay-market _in shares with_ swiney. _they alter that theatre. the original and present form of the theatre in_ drury-lane _compar'd. operas fall off. the occasion of it. farther observations upon them. the patentee dispossess'd of_ drury-lane _theatre. mr._ collier, _with a new license, heads the remains of that company_. plays and operas being thus established upon separate interests,[ ] they were now left to make the best of their way into favour by their different merit. although the opera is not a plant of our native growth, nor what our plainer appetites are fond of, and is of so delicate a nature that without excessive charge it cannot live long among us; especially while the nicest _connoisseurs_ in musick fall into such various heresies in taste, every sect pretending to be the true one: yet, as it is call'd a theatrical entertainment, and by its alliance or neutrality has more or less affected our domestick theatre, a short view of its progress may be allow'd a place in our history. after this new regulation the first opera that appear'd was _pyrrhus_. subscriptions at that time were not extended, as of late, to the whole season, but were limited to the first six days only of a new opera. the chief performers in this were _nicolini_, _valentini_, and mrs. _tofts_;[ ] and for the inferior parts the best that were then to be found. whatever praises may have been given to the most famous voices that have been heard since _nicolini_, upon the whole i cannot but come into the opinion that still prevails among several persons of condition who are able to give a reason for their liking, that no singer since his time has so justly and gracefully acquitted himself in whatever character he appear'd as _nicolini_. at most the difference between him and the greatest favourite of the ladies, _farinelli_, amounted but to this, that he might sometimes more exquisitely surprize us, but _nicolini_ (by pleasing the eye as well as the ear) fill'd us with a more various and _rational_ delight. whether in this excellence he has since had any competitor, perhaps will be better judg'd by what the critical censor of _great britain_ says of him in his th _tatler_, _viz._ "_nicolini_ sets off the character he bears in an opera by his action, as much as he does the words of it by his voice; every limb and finger contributes to the part he acts, insomuch that a deaf man might go along with him in the sense of it. there is scarce a beautiful posture in an old statue which he does not plant himself in, as the different circumstances of the story give occasion for it--he performs the most ordinary action in a manner suitable to the greatness of his character, and shews the prince even in the giving of a letter or dispatching of a message, _&c._"[ ] his voice at this first time of being among us (for he made us a second visit when it was impair'd) had all that strong, clear sweetness of tone so lately admir'd in _senesino_. a blind man could scarce have distinguish'd them; but in volubility of throat the former had much the superiority. this so excellent performer's agreement was eight hundred guineas for the year, which is but an eighth part more than half the sum that has since been given to several that could never totally surpass him: the consequence of which is, that the losses by operas, for several seasons, to the end of the year , have been so great, that those gentlemen of quality who last undertook the direction of them, found it ridiculous any longer to entertain the publick at so extravagant an expence, while no one particular person thought himself oblig'd by it. mrs. _tofts_,[ ] who took her first grounds of musick here in her own country, before the _italian_ taste had so highly prevail'd, was then not an adept in it:[ ] yet whatever defect the fashionably skilful might find in her manner, she had, in the general sense of her spectators, charms that few of the most learned singers ever arrive at. the beauty of her fine proportion'd figure, and exquisitely sweet, silver tone of her voice, with that peculiar, rapid swiftness of her throat, were perfections not to be imitated by art or labour. _valentini_ i have already mention'd, therefore need only say farther of him, that though he was every way inferior to _nicolini_,[ ] yet, as he had the advantage of giving us our first impression of a good opera singer, he had still his admirers, and was of great service in being so skilful a second to his superior. [illustration: owen swiney.] three such excellent performers in the same kind of entertainment at once, _england_ till this time had never seen: without any farther comparison, then, with the much dearer bought who have succeeded them, their novelty at least was a charm that drew vast audiences of the fine world after them. _swiney_, their sole director, was prosperous, and in one winter a gainer by them of a moderate younger brother's fortune. but as musick, by so profuse a dispensation of her beauties, could not always supply our dainty appetites with equal variety, nor for ever please us with the same objects, the opera, after one luxurious season, like the fine wife of a roving husband, began to loose its charms, and every day discover'd to our satiety imperfections which our former fondness had been blind to: but of this i shall observe more in its place: in the mean time, let us enquire into the productions of our native theatre. it may easily be conceiv'd, that by this entire re-union of the two companies plays must generally have been perform'd to a more than usual advantage and exactness: for now every chief actor, according to his particular capacity, piqued himself upon rectifying those errors which during their divided state were almost unavoidable. such a choice of actors added a richness to every good play as it was then serv'd up to the publick entertainment: the common people crowded to them with a more joyous expectation, and those of the higher taste return'd to them as to old acquaintances, with new desires after a long absence. in a word, all parties seem'd better pleas'd but he who one might imagine had most reason to be so, the (lately) sole menaging patentee. he, indeed, saw his power daily mould'ring from his own hands into those of mr. _brett_,[ ] whose gentlemanly manner of making every one's business easy to him, threw their old master under a disregard which he had not been us'd to, nor could with all his happy change of affairs support. although this grave theatrical minister of whom i have been oblig'd to make such frequent mention, had acquired the reputation of a most profound politician by being often incomprehensible, yet i am not sure that his conduct at this juncture gave us not an evident proof that he was, like other frail mortals, more a slave to his passions than his interest; for no creature ever seem'd more fond of power that so little knew how to use it to his profit and reputation; otherwise he could not possibly have been so discontented, in his secure and prosperous state of the theatre, as to resolve at all hazards to destroy it. we shall now see what infallible measures he took to bring this laudable scheme to perfection. he plainly saw that, as this disagreeable prosperity was chiefly owing to the conduct of mr. _brett_, there could be no hope of recovering the stage to its former confusion but by finding some effectual means to make mr. _brett_ weary of his charge: the most probable he could for the present think of, in this distress, was to call in the adventurers (whom for many years, by his defence in law, he had kept out) now to take care of their visibly improving interests.[ ] this fair appearance of equity being known to be his own proposal, he rightly guess'd would incline these adventurers to form a majority of votes on his side in all theatrical questions, and consequently become a check upon the power of mr. _brett_, who had so visibly alienated the hearts of his theatrical subjects, and now began to govern without him. when the adventurers, therefore, were re-admitted to their old government, after having recommended himself to them by proposing to make some small dividend of the profits (though he did not design that jest should be repeated) he took care that the creditors of the patent, who were then no inconsiderable body, should carry off the every weeks clear profits in proportion to their several dues and demands. this conduct, so speciously just, he had hopes would let mr. _brett_ see that his share in the patent was not so valuable an acquisition as perhaps he might think it; and probably make a man of his turn to pleasure soon weary of the little profit and great plague it gave him. now, though these might be all notable expedients, yet i cannot say they would have wholly contributed to mr. _brett_'s quitting his post, had not a matter of much stronger moment, an unexpected dispute between him and sir _thomas skipwith_, prevailed with him to lay it down: for in the midst of this flourishing state of the patent, mr. _brett_ was surpriz'd with a subpoe into chancery from sir _thomas skipwith_, who alledg'd in his bill that the conveyance he had made of his interest in the patent to mr. _brett_ was only intended in trust. (whatever the intent might be, the deed it self, which i then read, made no mention of any trust whatever.) but whether mr. _brett_, as sir _thomas_ farther asserted, had previously, or after the deed was sign'd, given his word of honour that if he should ever make the stage turn to any account or profit, he would certainly restore it: that, indeed, i can say nothing to; but be the deed valid or void, the facts that apparently follow'd were, that tho' mr. _brett_ in his answer to this bill absolutely deny'd his receiving this assignment either in trust or upon any limited condition of what kind soever, yet he made no farther defence in the cause. but since he found sir _thomas_ had thought fit on any account to sue for the restitution of it, and mr. _brett_ being himself conscious that, as the world knew he had paid no consideration for it, his keeping it might be misconstrued, or not favourably spoken of; or perhaps finding, tho' the profits were great, they were constantly swallowed up (as has been observ'd) by the previous satisfaction of old debts, he grew so tir'd of the plague and trouble the whole affair had given him, and was likely still to engage him in, that in a few weeks after he withdrew himself from all concern with the theatre, and quietly left sir _thomas_ to find his better account in it. and thus stood this undecided right till, upon the demise of sir _thomas_, mr. _brett_ being allow'd the charges he had been at in this attendance and prosecution of the union, reconvey'd this share of the patent to sir _george skipwith_, the son and heir of sir _thomas_.[ ] our politician, the old patentee, having thus fortunately got rid of mr. _brett_, who had so rashly brought the patent once more to be a profitable tenure, was now again at liberty to chuse rather to lose all than not to have it all to himself. i have elsewhere observ'd that nothing can so effectually secure the strength, or contribute to the prosperity of a good company, as the directors of it having always, as near as possible, an amicable understanding with three or four of their best actors, whose good or ill-will must naturally make a wide difference in their profitable or useless manner of serving them: while the principal are kept reasonably easy the lower class can never be troublesome without hurting themselves: but when a valuable actor is hardly treated, the master must be a very cunning man that finds his account in it. we shall now see how far experience will verify this observation. the patentees thinking themselves secure in being restor'd to their former absolute power over this now only company, chose rather to govern it by the reverse of the method i have recommended: for tho' the daily charge of their united company amounted not, by a good deal, to what either of the two companies now in _drury-lane_ or _covent-garden_ singly arises, they notwithstanding fell into their former politicks of thinking every shilling taken from a hired actor so much clear gain to the proprietor: many of their people, therefore, were actually, if not injudiciously, reduced in their pay, and others given to understand the same fate was design'd them; of which last number i my self was one; which occurs to my memory by the answer i made to one of the adventurers, who, in justification of their intended proceeding,[ ] told me that my sallary, tho' it should be less than it was by ten shillings a week, would still be more than ever _goodman_ had, who was a better actor than i could pretend to be: to which i reply'd, this may be true, but then you know, sir, it is as true that _goodman_ was forced to go upon the high-way for a livelihood. as this was a known fact of _goodman_, my mentioning it on that occasion i believe was of service to me; at least my sallary was not reduced after it. to say a word or two more of _goodman_, so celebrated an actor in his time, perhaps may set the conduct of the patentees in a clearer light. tho' _goodman_ had left the stage before i came to it, i had some slight acquaintance with him. about the time of his being expected to be an evidence against sir _john fenwick_ in the assassination-plot,[ ] in , i happen'd to meet him at dinner at sir _thomas skipwith_'s, who, as he was an agreeable companion himself, liked _goodman_ for the same quality. here it was that _goodman_, without disguise or sparing himself, fell into a laughing account of several loose passages of _his_ younger life; as his being expell'd the university of _cambridge_ for being one of the hot-headed sparks who were concern'd in the cutting and defacing the duke of _monmouth_'s picture, then chancellor of that place. but this disgrace, it seems, had not disqualified him for the stage, which, like the sea-service, refuses no man for his morals that is able-bodied: there, as an actor, he soon grew into a different reputation; but whatever his merit might be, the pay of a hired hero in those days was so very low that he was forced, it seems, to take the air (as he call'd it) and borrow what money the first man he met had about him. but this being his first exploit of that kind which the scantiness of his theatrical fortune had reduced him to, king _james_ was prevail'd upon to pardon him: which _goodman_ said was doing him so particular an honour that no man could wonder if his acknowledgment had carried him a little farther than ordinary into the interest of that prince: but as he had lately been out of luck in backing his old master, he had now no way to get home the life he was out upon his account but by being under the same obligations to king _william_. another anecdote of him, though not quite so dishonourably enterprizing, which i had from his own mouth at a different time, will equally shew to what low shifts in life the poor provision for good actors, under the early government of the patent, reduced them. in the younger days of their heroism, captain _griffin_ and _goodman_ were confined by their moderate sallaries to the oeconomy of lying together in the same bed and having but one whole shirt between them: one of them being under the obligation of a rendezvous with a fair lady, insisted upon his wearing it out of his turn, which occasion'd so high a dispute that the combat was immediately demanded, and accordingly their pretensions to it were decided by a fair tilt upon the spot, in the room where they lay: but whether _clytus_ or _alexander_ was obliged to see no company till a worse could be wash'd for him, seems not to be a material point in their history, or to my purpose.[ ] by this rate of _goodman_, who, 'till the time of his quitting the stage never had more than what is call'd forty shillings a week, it may be judg'd how cheap the labour of actors had been formerly; and the patentees thought it a folly to continue the higher price, (which their divisions had since raised them to) now there was but one market for them; but alas! they had forgot their former fatal mistake of squabbling with their actors in ;[ ] nor did they make any allowance for the changes and operations of time, or enough consider the interest the actors had in the lord chamberlain, on whose protection they might always rely, and whose decrees had been less restrain'd by precedent than those of a lord chancellor. in this mistaken view of their interest, the patentees, by treating their actors as enemies, really made them so: and when once the masters of a hired company think not their actors hearts as necessary as their hands, they cannot be said to have agreed for above half the work they are able to do in a day: or, if an unexpected success should, notwithstanding, make the profits in any gross disproportion greater than the wages, the wages will always have something worse than a murmur at the head of them, that will not only measure the merit of the actor by the gains of the proprietor, but will never naturally be quiet till every scheme of getting into property has been tried to make the servant his own master: and this, as far as experience can make me judge, will always be in either of these cases the state of our _english_ theatre. what truth there may be in this observation we are now coming to a proof of. to enumerate all the particular acts of power in which the patentees daily bore hard upon _this_ now only company of actors, might be as tedious as unnecessary; i shall therefore come at once to their most material grievance, upon which they grounded their complaint to the lord chamberlain, who, in the year following, , took effectual measures for their relief. the patentees observing that the benefit-plays of the actors towards the latter end of the season brought the most crowded audiences in the year, began to think their own interests too much neglected by these partial favours of the town to their actors; and therefore judg'd it would not be impolitick in such wholesome annual profits to have a fellow-feeling with them. accordingly an _indulto_[ ] was laid of one third out of the profits of every benefit for the proper use and behoof of the patent.[ ] but that a clear judgment may be form'd of the equity or hardship of this imposition, it will be necessary to shew from whence and from what causes the actors claim to benefits originally proceeded. during the reign of king _charles_ an actor's benefit had never been heard of. the first indulgence of this kind was given to mrs. _barry_ (as has been formerly observed[ ]) in king _james_'s time, in consideration of the extraordinary applause that had followed her performance: but there this favour rested to her alone, 'till after the division of the only company in , at which time the patentees were soon reduced to pay their actors half in good words and half in ready money. in this precarious condition some particular actors (however binding their agreements might be) were too poor or too wise to go to law with a lawyer, and therefore rather chose to compound their arrears for their being admitted to the chance of having them made up by the profits of a benefit-play. this expedient had this consequence; that the patentees, tho' their daily audiences might, and did sometimes mend, still kept the short subsistance of their actors at a stand, and grew more steady in their resolution so to keep them, as they found them less apt to mutiny while their hopes of being clear'd off by a benefit were depending. in a year or two these benefits grew so advantageous that they became at last the chief article in every actor's agreement. now though the agreements of these united actors i am speaking of in were as yet only verbal, yet that made no difference in the honest obligation to keep them: but as honour at that time happen'd to have but a loose hold of their consciences, the patentees rather chose to give it the slip, and went on with their work without it. no actor, therefore, could have his benefit fix'd 'till he had first sign'd a paper signifying his voluntary acceptance of it upon the above conditions, any claims from custom to the contrary notwithstanding. several at first refus'd to sign this paper; upon which the next in rank were offer'd on the same conditions to come before the refusers; this smart expedient got some few of the fearful the preference to their seniors; who, at last, seeing the time was too short for a present remedy, and that they must either come into the boat or lose their tide, were forc'd to comply with what they as yet silently resented as the severest injury. in this situation, therefore, they chose to let the principal benefits be over, that their grievances might swell into some bulk before they made any application for redress to the lord-chamberlain; who, upon hearing their general complaint, order'd the patentees to shew cause why their benefits had been diminish'd one third, contrary to the common usage? the patentees pleaded the sign'd agreement, and the actors receipts of the other two thirds, in full satisfaction. but these were prov'd to have been exacted from them by the methods already mentioned. they notwithstanding insist upon them as lawful. but as law and equity do not always agree, they were look'd upon as unjust and arbitrary. whereupon the patentees were warn'd at their peril to refuse the actors full satisfaction.[ ] but here it was thought necessary that judgment should be for some time respited, 'till the actors, who had leave so to do, could form a body strong enough to make the inclination of the lord-chamberlain to relieve them practicable. accordingly _swiney_ (who was then sole director of the opera only) had permission to enter into a private treaty with such of the united actors in _drury-lane_ as might be thought fit to head a company under their own menagement, and to be sharers with him in the _hay-market_. the actors chosen for this charge were _wilks_, _dogget_, mrs. _oldfield_, and myself. but before i proceed, lest it should seem surprizing that neither _betterton_, mrs. _barry_, mrs. _bracegirdle_, or _booth_ were parties in this treaty, it must be observ'd that _betterton_ was now seventy-three, and rather chose, with the infirmities of age upon him, to rely on such sallary as might be appointed him, than to involve himself in the cares and hurry that must unavoidably attend the regulation of a new company. as to the two celebrated actresses i have named, this has been my first proper occasion of making it known that they had both quitted the stage the year before this transaction was thought of.[ ] and _booth_ as yet was scarce out of his minority as an actor, or only in the promise of that reputation which, in about four or five years after, he happily arriv'd at. however, at this juncture he was not so far overlook'd as not to be offer'd a valuable addition to his sallary: but this he declin'd, being, while the patentees were under this distress, as much, if not more, in favour with their chief menager as a schematist than as an actor: and indeed he appear'd, to my judgment, more inclin'd to risque his fortune in _drury-lane_, where he should have no rival in parts or power, than on any terms to embark in the _hay-market_, where he was sure to meet with opponents in both.[ ] however, this his separation from our interest when our all was at stake, afterwards kept his advancement to a share with us in our more successful days longer postpon'd than otherwise it probably might have been. when mrs. _oldfield_ was nominated as a joint sharer in our new agreement to be made with _swiney_, _dogget_, who had no objection to her merit, insisted that our affairs could never be upon a secure foundation if there was more than one sex admitted to the menagement of them. he therefore hop'd that if we offer'd mrs. _oldfield_ a _carte blanche_ instead of a share, she would not think herself slighted. this was instantly agreed to, and mrs. _oldfield_ receiv'd it rather as a favour than a disobligation: her demands therefore were two hundred pounds a year certain, and a benefit clear of all charges, which were readily sign'd to. her easiness on this occasion, some years after, when our establishment was in prosperity, made us with less reluctancy advance her two hundred pounds to three hundred guineas _per annum_, with her usual benefit, which, upon an average, for several years at least doubled that sum. [illustration: anne oldfield.] when a sufficient number of actors were engag'd under our confederacy with _swiney_, it was then judg'd a proper time for the lord-chamberlain's power to operate, which, by lying above a month dormant, had so far recover'd the patentees from any apprehensions of what might fall upon them from their late usurpations on the benefits of the actors, that they began to set their marks upon those who had distinguish'd themselves in the application for redress. several little disgraces were put upon them, particularly in the disposal of parts in plays to be reviv'd, and as visible a partiality was shewn in the promotion of those in their interest, though their endeavours to serve them could be of no extraordinary use. how often does history shew us, in the same state of courts, the same politicks have been practis'd? all this while the other party were passively silent, 'till one day the actor who particularly solicited their cause at the lord-chamberlain's office, being shewn there the order sign'd for absolutely silencing the patentees, and ready to be serv'd, flew back with the news to his companions, then at a rehearsal in which he had been wanted; when being call'd to his part, and something hastily question'd by the patentee for his neglect of business: this actor, i say, with an erected look and a theatrical spirit, at once threw off the mask and roundly told him----_sir, i have now no more business here than you have; in half an hour you will neither have actors to command nor authority to employ them._----the patentee, who though he could not readily comprehend his mysterious manner of speaking, had just a glimpse of terror enough from the words to soften his reproof into a cold formal declaration, that _if he would not do his work he should not be paid_.--but now, to complete the catastrophe of these theatrical commotions, enters the messenger with the order of silence in his hand, whom the same actor officiously introduc'd, telling the patentee that the gentleman wanted to speak with him from the lord-chamberlain. when the messenger had delivered the order, the actor, throwing his head over his shoulder towards the patentee, in the manner of _shakespear_'s _harry the eighth_ to cardinal _wolsey_, cry'd--_read o'er that! and now--to breakfast, with what appetite you may_. tho' these words might be spoken in too vindictive and insulting a manner to be commended, yet, from the fulness of a heart injuriously treated and now reliev'd by that instant occasion, why might they not be pardon'd?[ ] the authority of the patent now no longer subsisting, all the confederated actors immediately walk'd out of the house, to which they never return'd 'till they became themselves the tenants and masters of it. here agen we see an higher instance of the authority of a lord-chamberlain than any of those i have elsewhere mentioned: from whence that power might be deriv'd, as i have already said, i am not lawyer enough to know; however, it is evident that a lawyer obey'd it, though to his cost; which might incline one to think that the law was not clearly against it: be that as it may, since the law has lately made it no longer a question, let us drop the enquiry and proceed to the facts which follow'd this order that silenc'd the patent. from this last injudicious disagreement of the patentees with their principal actors, and from what they had suffered on the same occasion in the division of their only company in , might we not imagine there was something of infatuation in their menagement? for though i allow actors in general, when they are too much indulg'd, or govern'd by an unsteady head, to be as unruly a multitude as power can be plagued with; yet there is a medium which, if cautiously observed by a candid use of power, making them always know, without feeling, their superior, neither suffering their encroachments nor invading their rights, with an immoveable adherence to the accepted laws they are to walk by; such a regulation, i say, has never fail'd, in my observation, to have made them a tractable and profitable society. if the government of a well-establish'd theatre were to be compar'd to that of a nation, there is no one act of policy or misconduct in the one or the other in which the menager might not, in some parallel case, (laugh, if you please) be equally applauded or condemned with the statesman. perhaps this will not be found so wild a conceit if you look into the d _tatler_, vol. . where the affairs of the state and those of the very stage which i am now treating of, are, in a letter from _downs_ the promptor,[ ] compar'd, and with a great deal of wit and humour, set upon an equal foot of policy. the letter is suppos'd to have been written in the last change of the ministry in queen _anne_'s time. i will therefore venture, upon the authority of that author's imagination, to carry the comparison as high as it can possibly go, and say, that as i remember one of our princes in the last century to have lost his crown by too arbitrary a use of his power, though he knew how fatal the same measures had been to his unhappy father before him, why should we wonder that the same passions taking possession of men in lower life, by an equally impolitick usage of their theatrical subjects, should have involved the patentees in proportionable calamities. during the vacation, which immediately follow'd the silence of the patent, both parties were at leisure to form their schemes for the winter: for the patentee would still hold out, notwithstanding his being so miserably maim'd or over-match'd: he had no more regard to blows than a blind cock of the game; he might be beaten, but would never yield; the patent was still in his possession, and the broad-seal to it visibly as fresh as ever: besides, he had yet some actors in his service,[ ] at a much cheaper rate than those who had left him, the sallaries of which last, now they would not work for him, he was not oblig'd to pay.[ ] in this way of thinking, he still kept together such as had not been invited over to the _hay-market_, or had been influenc'd by _booth_ to follow his fortune in _drury-lane_. by the patentee's keeping these remains of his broken forces together, it is plain that he imagin'd this order of silence, like others of the same kind, would be recall'd, of course, after a reasonable time of obedience had been paid to it: but, it seems, he had rely'd too much upon former precedents; nor had his politicks yet div'd into the secret that the court power, with which the patent had been so long and often at variance, had now a mind to take the publick diversions more absolutely into their own hands: not that i have any stronger reasons for this conjecture than that the patent never after this order of silence got leave to play during the queen's reign. but upon the accession of his late majesty, power having then a different aspect, the patent found no difficulty in being permitted to exercise its former authority for acting plays, _&c._ which, however, from this time of their lying still, in , did not happen 'till , which the old patentee never liv'd to see: for he dy'd about six weeks before the new-built theatre in _lincoln's-inn-fields_ was open'd,[ ] where the first play acted was the _recruiting officer_, under the menagement of his heirs and successors. but of that theatre it is not yet time to give any further account. the first point resolv'd on by the comedians now re-established in the _hay-market_,[ ] was to alter the auditory part of their theatre, the inconveniencies of which have been fully enlarged upon in a former chapter. what embarrass'd them most in this design, was their want of time to do it in a more complete manner than it now remains in, otherwise they had brought it to the original model of that in _drury-lane_, only in a larger proportion, as the wider walls of it would require; as there are not many spectators who may remember what form the _drury-lane_ theatre stood in about forty years ago, before the old patentee, to make it hold more money, took it in his head to alter it, it were but justice to lay the original figure which sir _christopher wren_ first gave it, and the alterations of it now standing, in a fair light; that equal spectators may see, if they were at their choice, which of the structures would incline them to a preference. but in this appeal i only speak to such spectators as allow a good play well acted to be the most valuable entertainment of the stage. whether such plays (leaving the skill of the dead or living actors equally out of the question) have been more or less recommended in their presentation by either of these different forms of that theatre, is our present matter of enquiry. it must be observ'd, then,[ ] that the area or platform of the old stage projected about four foot forwarder, in a semi-oval figure, parallel to the benches of the pit; and that the former lower doors of entrance for the actors were brought down between the two foremost (and then only) pilasters; in the place of which doors now the two stage-boxes are fixt. that where the doors of entrance now are, there formerly stood two additional side-wings, in front to a full set of scenes, which had then almost a double effect in their loftiness and magnificence. by this original form, the usual station of the actors, in almost every scene, was advanc'd at least ten foot nearer to the audience than they now can be; because, not only from the stage's being shorten'd in front, but likewise from the additional interposition of those stage-boxes, the actors (in respect to the spectators that fill them) are kept so much more backward from the main audience than they us'd to be: but when the actors were in possession of that forwarder space to advance upon, the voice was then more in the centre of the house, so that the most distant ear had scarce the least doubt or difficulty in hearing what fell from the weakest utterance: all objects were thus drawn nearer to the sense; every painted scene was stronger; every grand scene and dance more extended; every rich or fine-coloured habit had a more lively lustre: nor was the minutest motion of a feature (properly changing with the passion or humour it suited) ever lost, as they frequently must be in the obscurity of too great a distance: and how valuable an advantage the facility of hearing distinctly is to every well-acted scene, every common spectator is a judge. a voice scarce raised above the tone of a whisper, either in tenderness, resignation, innocent distress, or jealousy suppress'd, often have as much concern with the heart as the most clamorous passions; and when on any of these occasions such affecting speeches are plainly heard, or lost, how wide is the difference from the great or little satisfaction received from them? to all this a master of a company may say, i now receive ten pounds more than could have been taken formerly in every full house! not unlikely. but might not his house be oftener full if the auditors were oftener pleas'd? might not every bad house too, by a possibility of being made every day better, add as much to one side of his account as it could take from the other? if what i have said carries any truth in it, why might not the original form of this theatre be restor'd? but let this digression avail what it may, the actors now return'd to the _hay-market_, as i have observ'd, wanting nothing but length of time to have govern'd their alteration of that theatre by this original model of _drury-lane_ which i have recommended. as their time therefore was short, they made their best use of it; they did something to it: they contracted its wideness by three ranges of boxes on each side, and brought down its enormous high ceiling within so proportionable a compass that it effectually cur'd those hollow undulations of the voice formerly complain'd of. the remedy had its effect; their audiences exceeded their expectation. there was now no other theatre open against them;[ ] they had the town to themselves; they were their own masters, and the profits of their industry came into their own pockets. [illustration: theophilus cibber as antient pistol.] yet with all this fair weather, the season of their uninterrupted prosperity was not yet arriv'd; for the great expence and thinner audiences of the opera (of which they then were equally directors) was a constant drawback upon their gains, yet not so far but that their income this year was better than in their late station at _drury-lane_. but by the short experience we had then had of operas; by the high reputation they seem'd to have been arriv'd at the year before; by their power of drawing the whole body of nobility as by enchantment to their solemnities; by that prodigality of expence at which they were so willing to support them; and from the late extraordinary profits _swiney_ had made of them, what mountains did we not hope from this molehill? but alas! the fairy vision was vanish'd; this bridal beauty was grown familiar to the general taste, and satiety began to make excuses for its want of appetite: or, what is still stranger, its late admirers now as much valued their judgment in being able to find out the faults of the performers, as they had before in discovering their excellencies. the truth is, that this kind of entertainment being so entirely sensual, it had no possibility of getting the better of our reason but by its novelty; and that novelty could never be supported but by an annual change of the best voices, which, like the finest flowers, bloom but for a season, and when that is over are only dead nose-gays. from this natural cause we have seen within these two years even _farinelli_ singing to an audience of five and thirty pounds, and yet, if common fame may be credited, the same voice, so neglected in one country, has in another had charms sufficient to make that crown sit easy on the head of a monarch, which the jealousy of politicians (who had their views in his keeping it) fear'd, without some such extraordinary amusement, his satiety of empire might tempt him a second time to resign.[ ] there is, too, in the very species of an _italian_ singer such an innate, fantastical pride and caprice, that the government of them (here at least) is almost impracticable. this distemper, as we were not sufficiently warn'd or apprized of, threw our musical affairs into perplexities we knew not easily how to get out of. there is scarce a sensible auditor in the kingdom that has not since that time had occasion to laugh at the several instances of it: but what is still more ridiculous, these costly canary-birds have sometimes infested the whole body of our dignified lovers of musick with the same childish animosities: ladies have been known to decline their visits upon account of their being of a different musical party. _cæsar_ and _pompey_ made not a warmer division in the _roman_ republick than those heroines, their country women, the _faustina_ and _cuzzoni_, blew up in our common-wealth of academical musick by their implacable pretensions to superiority.[ ] and while this greatness of soul is their unalterable virtue, it will never be practicable to make two capital singers of the same sex do as they should do in one opera at the same time! no, not tho' _england_ were to double the sums it has already thrown after them: for even in their own country, where an extraordinary occasion has called a greater number of their best to sing together, the mischief they have made has been proportionable; an instance of which, if i am rightly inform'd, happen'd at _parma_, where, upon the celebration of the marriage of that duke, a collection was made of the most eminent voices that expence or interest could purchase, to give as complete an opera as the whole vocal power of _italy_ could form. but when it came to the proof of this musical project, behold! what woful work they made of it! every performer would be a _cæsar_ or nothing; their several pretensions to preference were not to be limited within the laws of harmony; they would all choose their own songs, but not more to set off themselves than to oppose or deprive another of an occasion to shine: yet any one would sing a bad song, provided no body else had a good one, till at last they were thrown together, like so many feather'd warriors, for a battle-royal in a cock-pit, where every one was oblig'd to kill another to save himself! what pity it was these froward misses and masters of musick had not been engag'd to entertain the court of some king of _morocco_, that could have known a good opera from a bad one! with how much ease would such a director have brought them to better order? but alas! as it has been said of greater things, _suis et ipsa roma viribus ruit._ hor.[ ] imperial _rome_ fell by the too great strength of its own citizens! so fell this mighty opera, ruin'd by the too great excellency of its singers! for, upon the whole, it proved to be as barbarously bad as if malice it self had composed it. now though something of this kind, equally provoking, has generally embarrass'd the state of operas these thirty years, yet it was the misfortune of the menaging actors at the _hay-market_ to have felt the first effects of it: the honour of the singer and the interest of the undertaker were so often at variance, that the latter began to have but a bad bargain of it. but not to impute more to the caprice of those performers than was really true, there were two different accidents that drew numbers from our audiences before the season was ended; which were another company permitted to act in _drury-lane_,[ ] and the long trial of doctor _sacheverel_ in _westminster-hall_:[ ] by the way, it must be observed that this company was not under the direction of the patent (which continued still silenced) but was set up by a third interest, with a license from court. the person to whom this new license was granted was _william collier_, esq., a lawyer of an enterprizing head and a jovial heart; what sort of favour he was in with the people then in power may be judg'd from his being often admitted to partake with them those detach'd hours of life when business was to give way to pleasure: but this was not all his merit, he was at the same time a member of parliament for _truro_ in _cornwall_, and we cannot suppose a person so qualified could be refused such a trifle as a license to head a broken company of actors. this sagacious lawyer, then, who had a lawyer to deal with, observing that his antagonist kept possession of a theatre without making use of it, and for which he was not obliged to pay rent unless he actually _did_ use it, wisely conceived it might be the interest of the joint landlords, since their tenement was in so precarious a condition, to grant a lease to one who had an undisputed authority to be liable, by acting plays in it, to pay the rent of it; especially when he tempted them with an offer of raising it from three to four pounds _per diem_. his project succeeded, the lease was sign'd; but the means of getting into possession were to be left to his own cost and discretion. this took him up but little time; he immediately laid siege to it with a sufficient number of forces, whether lawless or lawful i forget, but they were such as obliged the old governor to give it up; who, notwithstanding, had got intelligence of his approaches and design time enough to carry off every thing that was worth moving, except a great number of old scenes and new actors that could not easily follow him.[ ] a ludicrous account of this transaction, under fictitious names, may be found in the th _tatler_, vol. . which this explanation may now render more intelligible to the readers of that agreeable author.[ ] this other new license being now in possession of the _drury-lane_ theatre, those actors whom the patentee ever since the order of silence had retain'd in a state of inaction, all to a man came over to the service of _collier_. of these _booth_ was then the chief.[ ] the merit of the rest had as yet made no considerable appearance, and as the patentee had not left a rag of their cloathing behind him, they were but poorly equip'd for a publick review; consequently at their first opening they were very little able to annoy us. but during the trial of _sacheverel_ our audiences were extremely weaken'd by the better rank of people's daily attending it: while, at the same time, the lower sort, who were not equally admitted to that grand spectacle, as eagerly crowded into _drury-lane_ to a new comedy call'd _the fair quaker of deal_. this play having some low strokes of natural humour in it, was rightly calculated for the capacity of the actors who play'd it, and to the taste of the multitude who were now more disposed and at leisure to see it:[ ] but the most happy incident in its fortune was the charm of the fair quaker which was acted by miss _santlow_, (afterwards mrs. _booth_) whose person was then in the full bloom of what beauty she might pretend to: before this she had only been admired as the most excellent dancer, which perhaps might not a little contribute to the favourable reception she now met with as an actress, in this character which so happily suited her figure and capacity: the gentle softness of her voice, the composed innocence of her aspect, the modesty of her dress, the reserv'd decency of her gesture, and the simplicity of the sentiments that naturally fell from her, made her seem the amiable maid she represented: in a word, not the enthusiastick maid of _orleans_ was more serviceable of old to the _french_ army when the _english_ had distressed them, than this fair quaker was at the head of that dramatick attempt upon which the support of their weak society depended.[ ] but when the trial i have mention'd and the run of this play was over, the tide of the town beginning to turn again in our favour, _collier_ was reduced to give his theatrical affairs a different scheme; which advanced the stage another step towards that settlement which, in my time, was of the longest duration. chapter xiii. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the patentee, having now no actors, rebuilds the new theatre in _lincolns-inn-fields_. a guess at his reasons for it. more changes in the state of the stage. the beginning of its better days under the _triumvirate_ of actors. a sketch of their governing characters._ as coarse mothers may have comely children, so anarchy has been the parent of many a good government; and by a parity of possible consequences, we shall find that from the frequent convulsions of the stage arose at last its longest settlement and prosperity; which many of my readers (or if i should happen to have but few of them, many of my spectators at least) who i hope have not yet liv'd half their time, will be able to remember. though the patent had been often under distresses, it had never felt any blow equal to this unrevoked order of silence; which it is not easy to conceive could have fallen upon any other person's conduct than that of the old patentee: for if he was conscious of his being under the subjection of that power which had silenc'd him, why would he incur the danger of a suspension by his so obstinate and impolitick treatment of his actors? if he thought such power over him illegal, how came he to obey it now more than before, when he slighted a former order that injoin'd him to give his actors their benefits on their usual conditions?[ ] but to do him justice, the same obstinacy that involv'd him in these difficulties, at last preserv'd to his heirs the property of the patent in its full force and value;[ ] yet to suppose that he foresaw a milder use of power in some future prince's reign might be more favourable to him, is begging at best but a cold question. but whether he knew that this broken condition of the patent would not make his troublesome friends the adventurers fly from it as from a falling house, seems not so difficult a question. however, let the reader form his own judgment of them from the facts that follow'd: it must therefore be observ'd, that the adventurers seldom came near the house but when there was some visible appearance of a dividend: but i could never hear that upon an ill run of audiences they had ever returned or brought in a single shilling, to make good the deficiencies of their daily receipts. therefore, as the patentee in possession had alone, for several years, supported and stood against this uncertainty of fortune, it may be imagin'd that his accounts were under so voluminous a perplexity that few of those adventurers would have leisure or capacity enough to unravel them: and as they had formerly thrown away their time and money at law in a fruitless enquiry into them, they now seem'd to have intirely given up their right and interest: and, according to my best information, notwithstanding the subsequent gains of the patent have been sometimes extraordinary, the farther demands or claims of right of the adventurers have lain dormant above these five and twenty years.[ ] having shewn by what means _collier_ had dispossess'd this patentee, not only of the _drury-lane_ house, but likewise of those few actors which he had kept for some time unemploy'd in it, we are now led to consider another project of the same patentee, which, if we are to judge of it by the event, has shewn him more a wise than a weak man; which i confess at the time he put it in execution seem'd not so clear a point: for notwithstanding he now saw the authority and power of his patent was superseded, or was at best but precarious, and that he had not one actor left in his service, yet, under all these dilemma's and distresses, he resolv'd upon rebuilding the new theatre in _lincolns-inn-fields_, of which he had taken a lease, at a low rent, ever since _betterton_'s company had first left it.[ ] this conduct seem'd too deep for my comprehension! what are we to think of his taking this lease in the height of his prosperity, when he could have no occasion for it? was he a prophet? could he then foresee he should, one time or other, be turn'd out of _drury-lane_? or did his mere appetite of architecture urge him to build a house, while he could not be sure he should ever have leave to make use of it? but of all this we may think as we please; whatever was his motive, he, at his own expence, in this interval of his having nothing else to do, rebuilt that theatre from the ground, as it is now standing.[ ] as for the order of silence, he seem'd little concern'd at it while it gave him so much uninterrupted leisure to supervise a work which he naturally took delight in. after this defeat of the patentee, the theatrical forces of _collier_ in _drury-lane_, notwithstanding their having drawn the multitude after them for about three weeks during the trial of _sacheverel_, had made but an indifferent campaign at the end of the season. _collier_ at least found so little account in it, that it obliged him to push his court-interest (which, wherever the stage was concern'd, was not inconsiderable) to support him in another scheme; which was, that in consideration of his giving up the _drury-lane_, cloaths, scenes, and actors, to _swiney_ and his joint sharers in the _hay-market_, he (_collier_) might be put into an equal possession of the _hay-market_ theatre, with all the singers, _&c._ and be made sole director of the opera. accordingly, by permission of the lord chamberlain, a treaty was enter'd into, and in a few days ratified by all parties, conformable to the said preliminaries.[ ] this was that happy crisis of theatrical liberty which the labouring comedians had long sigh'd for, and which, for above twenty years following, was so memorably fortunate to them. however, there were two hard articles in this treaty, which, though it might be policy in the actors to comply with, yet the imposition of them seem'd little less despotick than a tax upon the poor when a government did not want it. the first of these articles was, that whereas the sole license for acting plays was presum'd to be a more profitable authority than that for acting operas only, that therefore two hundred pounds a year should be paid to _collier_, while master of the opera, by the comedians; to whom a verbal assurance was given by the _plenipo'_s on the court-side, that while such payment subsisted no other company should be permitted to act plays against them within the liberties, _&c._ the other article was, that on every _wednesday_ whereon an opera could be perform'd, the plays should, _toties quoties_, be silent at _drury-lane_, to give the opera a fairer chance for a full house. this last article, however partial in the intention, was in its effect of great advantage to the sharing actors: for in all publick entertainments a day's abstinence naturally increases the appetite to them: our every _thursday_'s audience, therefore, was visibly the better by thus making the day before it a fast. but as this was not a favour design'd us, this prohibition of a day, methinks, deserves a little farther notice, because it evidently took a sixth part of their income from all the hired actors, who were only paid in proportion to the number of acting days. this extraordinary regard to operas was, in effect, making the day-labouring actors the principal subscribers to them, and the shutting out people from the play every _wednesday_ many murmur'd at as an abridgment of their usual liberty. and tho' i was one of those who profited by that order, it ought not to bribe me into a concealment of what was then said and thought of it. i remember a nobleman of the first rank, then in a high post, and not out of court-favour, said openly behind the scenes----_it was shameful to take part of the actors bread from them to support the silly diversion of people of quality_. but alas! what was all this grievance when weighed against the qualifications of so grave and staunch a senator as _collier_? such visible merit, it seems, was to be made easy, tho' at the expence of the--i had almost said, _honour_ of the court, whose gracious intention for the theatrical common-wealth might have shone with thrice the lustre if such a paltry price had not been paid for it. but as the government of the stage is but that of the world in miniature, we ought not to have wonder'd that _collier_ had interest enough to quarter the weakness of the opera upon the strength of the comedy. general good intentions are not always practicable to a perfection. the most necessary law can hardly pass, but a tenderness to some private interest shall often hang such exceptions upon particular clauses, 'till at last it comes out lame and lifeless, with the loss of half its force, purpose, and dignity. as, for instance, how many fruitless motions have been made in parliaments to moderate the enormous exactions in the practice of the law? and what sort of justice must that be call'd, which, when a man has not a mind to pay you a debt of ten pounds, it shall cost you fifty before you can get it? how long, too, has the publick been labouring for a bridge at _westminster_? but the wonder that it was not built a hundred years ago ceases when we are told, that the fear of making one end of _london_ as rich as the other has been so long an obstruction to it:[ ] and though it might seem a still greater wonder, when a new law for building one had at last got over that apprehension, that it should meet with any farther delay; yet experience has shewn us that the structure of this useful ornament to our metropolis has been so clogg'd by private jobs that were to be pick'd out of the undertaking, and the progress of the work so disconcerted by a tedious contention of private interests and endeavours to impose upon the publick abominable bargains, that a whole year was lost before a single stone could be laid to its foundation. but posterity will owe its praises to the zeal and resolution of a truly noble commissioner, whose distinguish'd impatience has broke thro' those narrow artifices, those false and frivolous objections that delay'd it, and has already began to raise above the tide that future monument of his publick spirit.[ ] [illustration: hester santlow.] how far all this may be allow'd applicable to the state of the stage is not of so great importance, nor so much my concern, as that what is observ'd upon it should always remain a memorable truth, to the honour of that nobleman. but now i go on: _collier_ being thus possess'd of his musical government, thought his best way would be to farm it out to a gentleman, _aaron hill_, esq.[ ] (who he had reason to suppose knew something more of theatrical matters than himself) at a rent, if i mistake not, of six hundred pounds _per annum_: but before the season was ended (upon what occasion, if i could remember, it might not be material to say) took it into his hands again: but all his skill and interest could not raise the direction of the opera to so good a post as he thought due to a person of his consideration: he therefore, the year following, enter'd upon another high-handed scheme, which, 'till the demise of the queen, turn'd to his better account. after the comedians were in possession of _drury-lane_, from whence during my time upon the stage they never departed, their swarm of audiences exceeded all that had been seen in thirty years before; which, however, i do not impute so much to the excellence of their acting as to their indefatigable industry and good menagement; for, as i have often said, i never thought in the general that we stood in any place of comparison with the eminent actors before us; perhaps, too, by there being now an end of the frequent divisions and disorders that had from time to time broke in upon and frustrated their labours, not a little might be contributed to their success. _collier_, then, like a true liquorish courtier, observing the prosperity of a theatre, which he the year before had parted with for a worse, began to meditate an exchange of theatrical posts with _swiney_, who had visibly very fair pretensions to that he was in, by his being first chosen by the court to regulate and rescue the stage from the disorders it had suffer'd under its former menagers:[ ] yet _collier_ knew that sort of merit could stand in no competition with his being a member of parliament: he therefore had recourse to his court-interest (where meer will and pleasure at that time was the only law that dispos'd of all theatrical rights) to oblige swiney to let him be off from his bad bargain for a better. to this it may be imagin'd _swiney_ demurred, and as he had reason, strongly remonstrated against it: but as _collier_ had listed his conscience under the command of interest, he kept it to strict duty, and was immoveable; insomuch that sir _john vanbrugh_, who was a friend to _swiney_, and who, by his intimacy with the people in power, better knew the motive of their actions, advis'd _swiney_ rather to accept of the change, than by a non-compliance to hazard his being excluded from any post or concern in either of the theatres: to conclude, it was not long before _collier_ had procured a new license for acting plays, _&c._ for himself, _wilks_, _dogget_, and _cibber_, exclusive of _swiney_, who by this new regulation was reduc'd to his _hobson_'s choice of the opera.[ ] _swiney_ being thus transferr'd to the opera[ ] in the sinking condition _collier_ had left it, found the receipts of it in the winter following, , so far short of the expences, that he was driven to attend his fortune in some more favourable climate, where he remain'd twenty years an exile from his friends and country, tho' there has been scarce an _english_ gentleman who in his _tour_ of _france_ or _italy_ has not renew'd or created an acquaintance with him. as this is a circumstance that many people may have forgot, i cannot remember it without that regard and concern it deserves from all that know him: yet it is some mitigation of his misfortune that since his return to _england_, his grey hairs and cheerful disposition have still found a general welcome among his foreign and former domestick acquaintance. _collier_ being now first-commission'd menager with the comedians, drove them, too, to the last inch of a hard bargain (the natural consequence of all treaties between power and necessity.) he not only demanded six hundred a year neat money, the price at which he had farm'd out his opera, and to make the business a _sine-cure_ to him, but likewise insisted upon a moiety of the two hundred that had been levied upon us the year before in aid of the operas; in all _l._ these large and ample conditions, considering in what hands we were, we resolv'd to swallow without wry faces; rather chusing to run any hazard than contend with a formidable power against which we had no remedy: but so it happen'd that fortune took better care of our interest than we ourselves had like to have done: for had _collier_ accepted of our first offer, of an equal share with us, he had got three hundred pounds a year more by complying with it than by the sum he imposed upon us, our shares being never less than a thousand annually to each of us, 'till the end of the queen's reign in . after which _collier_'s commission was superseded, his theatrical post, upon the accession of his late majesty, being given to sir _richard steele_.[ ] from these various revolutions in the government of the theatre, all owing to the patentees mistaken principle of increasing their profits by too far enslaving their people, and keeping down the price of good actors (and i could almost insist that giving large sallaries to bad ones could not have had a worse consequence) i say, when it is consider'd that the authority for acting plays, _&c._ was thought of so little worth that (as has been observ'd) sir _thomas skipwith_ gave away his share of it, and the adventurers had fled from it; that mr. _congreve_, at another time, had voluntarily resign'd it; and sir _john vanbrugh_ (meerly to get the rent of his new house paid) had, by leave of the court, farm'd out his license to _swiney_, who not without some hesitation had ventur'd upon it; let me say again, out of this low condition of the theatre, was it not owing to the industry of three or four comedians that a new place was now created for the crown to give away, without any expence attending it, well worth the acceptance of any gentleman whose merit or services had no higher claim to preferment, and which _collier_ and sir _richard steele_, in the two last reigns, successively enjoy'd? tho' i believe i may have said something like this in a former chapter,[ ] i am not unwilling it should be twice taken notice of. we are now come to that firm establishment of the theatre, which, except the admittance of _booth_ into a share and _dogget_'s retiring from it, met with no change or alteration for above twenty years after. _collier_, as has been said, having accepted of a certain appointment of seven hundred _per annum_, _wilks_, _dogget_, and myself were now the only acting menagers under the queen's license; which being a grant but during pleasure oblig'd us to a conduct that might not undeserve that favour. at this time we were all in the vigour of our capacities as actors, and our prosperity enabled us to pay at least double the sallaries to what the same actors had usually receiv'd, or could have hoped for under the government of the patentees. _dogget_, who was naturally an oeconomist, kept our expences and accounts to the best of his power within regulated bounds and moderation. _wilks_, who had a stronger passion for glory than lucre, was a little apt to be lavish in what was not always as necessary for the profit as the honour of the theatre: for example, at the beginning of almost every season, he would order two or three suits to be made or refresh'd for actors of moderate consequence, that his having constantly a new one for himself might seem less particular, tho' he had as yet no new part for it. this expeditious care of doing us good without waiting for our consent to it, _dogget_ always look'd upon with the eye of a man in pain: but i, who hated pain, (tho' i as little liked the favour as _dogget_ himself) rather chose to laugh at the circumstance, than complain of what i knew was not to be cured but by a remedy worse than the evil. upon these occasions, therefore, whenever i saw him and his followers so prettily dress'd out for an old play, i only commended his fancy; or at most but whisper'd him not to give himself so much trouble about others, upon whose performance it would but be thrown away: to which, with a smiling air of triumph over my want of penetration, he has reply'd--why, now, that was what i really did it for! to shew others that i love to take care of them as well as of myself. thus, whenever he made himself easy, he had not the least conception, let the expence be what it would, that we could possibly dislike it. and from the same principle, provided a thinner audience were liberal of their applause, he gave himself little concern about the receipt of it. as in these different tempers of my brother-menagers there might be equally something right and wrong, it was equally my business to keep well with them both: and tho' of the two i was rather inclin'd to _dogget_'s way of thinking, yet i was always under the disagreeable restraint of not letting _wilks_ see it: therefore, when in any material point of menagement they were ready to come to a rupture, i found it adviseable to think neither of them absolutely in the wrong; but by giving to one as much of the right in his opinion this way as i took from the other in that, their differences were sometimes soft'ned into concessions, that i have reason to think prevented many ill consequences in our affairs that otherwise might have attended them. but this was always to be done with a very gentle hand; for as _wilks_ was apt to be easily hurt by opposition, so when he felt it he was as apt to be insupportable. however, there were some points in which we were always unanimous. in the twenty years while we were our own directors, we never had a creditor that had occasion to come twice for his bill; every _monday_ morning discharged us of all demands before we took a shilling for our own use. and from this time we neither ask'd any actor, nor were desired by them, to sign any written agreement (to the best of my memory) whatsoever: the rate of their respective sallaries were only enter'd in our daily pay-roll; which plain record every one look'd upon as good as city-security: for where an honest meaning is mutual, the mutual confidence will be bond enough in conscience on both sides: but that i may not ascribe more to our conduct than was really its due, i ought to give fortune her share of the commendation; for had not our success exceeded our expectation, it might not have been in our power so thoroughly to have observ'd those laudable rules of oeconomy, justice, and lenity, which so happily supported us: but the severities and oppression we had suffer'd under our former masters made us incapable of imposing them on others; which gave our whole society the cheerful looks of a rescued people. but notwithstanding this general cause of content, it was not above a year or two before the imperfection of human nature began to shew itself in contrary symptoms. the merit of the hazards which the menagers had run, and the difficulties they had combated in bringing to perfection that revolution by which they had all so amply profited in the amendment of their general income, began now to be forgotten; their acknowledgments and thankful promises of fidelity were no more repeated, or scarce thought obligatory: ease and plenty by an habitual enjoyment had lost their novelty, and the largeness of their sallaries seem'd rather lessen'd than advanc'd by the extraordinary gains of the undertakers; for that is the scale in which the hired actor will always weigh his performance; but whatever reason there may seem to be in his case, yet, as he is frequently apt to throw a little self-partiality into the balance, that consideration may a good deal alter the justness of it. while the actors, therefore, had this way of thinking, happy was it for the menagers that their united interest was so inseparably the same, and that their skill and power in acting stood in a rank so far above the rest, that if the whole body of private men had deserted them, it would yet have been an easier matter for the menagers to have pick'd up recruits, than for the deserters to have found proper officers to head them. here, then, in this distinction lay our security: our being actors ourselves was an advantage to our government which all former menagers, who were only idle gentlemen, wanted: nor was our establishment easily to be broken, while our health and limbs enabled us to be joint-labourers in the work we were masters of. the only actor who, in the opinion of the publick, seem'd to have had a pretence of being advanc'd to a share with us was certainly _booth_: but when it is consider'd how strongly he had oppos'd the measures that had made us menagers, by setting himself (as has been observ'd) at the head of an opposite interest,[ ] he could not as yet have much to complain of: beside, if the court had thought him, now, an equal object of favour, it could not have been in our power to have oppos'd his preferment: this i mention, not to take from his merit, but to shew from what cause it was not as yet better provided for. therefore it may be no vanity to say, our having at that time no visible competitors on the stage was the only interest that rais'd us to be the menagers of it. but here let me rest a while, and since at my time of day our best possessions are but ease and quiet, i must be content, if i will have sallies of pleasure, to take up with those only that are to be found in imagination. when i look back, therefore, on the storms of the stage we had been toss'd in; when i consider that various vicissitude of hopes and fears we had for twenty years struggled with, and found ourselves at last thus safely set on shore to enjoy the produce of our own labours, and to have rais'd those labours by our skill and industry to a much fairer profit, than our task-masters by all their severe and griping government had ever reap'd from them, a good-natur'd reader, that is not offended at the comparison of great things with small, will allow was a triumph in proportion equal to those that have attended the most heroick enterprizes for liberty! what transport could the first _brutus_ feel upon his expulsion of the _tarquins_ greater than that which now danc'd in the heart of a poor actor, who, from an injur'd labourer, unpaid his hire, had made himself, without guilt, a legal menager of his own fortune? let the grave and great contemn or yawn at these low conceits, but let me be happy in the enjoyment of them! to this hour my memory runs o'er that pleasing prospect of life past with little less delight than when i was first in the real possession of it. this is the natural temper of my mind, which my acquaintance are frequently witnesses of: and as this was all the ambition providence had made my obscure condition capable of, i am thankful that means were given me to enjoy the fruits of it. ----_hoc est vivere bìs, vitâ; posse priore frui._[ ] something like the meaning of this the less learned reader may find in my title page. chapter xiv. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the stage in its highest prosperity. the menagers not without errors. of what kind._ cato _first acted. what brought it to the stage. the company go to _oxford_. their success and different auditors there. _booth_ made a sharer. _dogget_ objects to him. quits the stage upon his admittance. that not his true reason. what was. _dogget_'s theatrical character._ notwithstanding the menaging actors were now in a happier situation than their utmost pretensions could have expected, yet it is not to be suppos'd but wiser men might have mended it. as we could not all govern our selves, there were seasons when we were not all fit to govern others. our passions and our interest drew not always the same way. _self_ had a great sway in our debates: we had our partialities; our prejudices; our favourites of less merit; and our jealousies of those who came too near us; frailties which societies of higher consideration, while they are compos'd of men, will not always be free from. to have been constantly capable of unanimity had been a blessing too great for our station: one mind among three people were to have had three masters to one servant; but when that one servant is called three different ways at the same time, whose business is to be done first? for my own part, i was forced almost all my life to give up my share of him. and if i could, by art or persuasion, hinder others from making what i thought a wrong use of their power, it was the all and utmost i desired. yet, whatever might be our personal errors, i shall think i have no right to speak of them farther than where the publick entertainment was affected by them. if therefore, among so many, some particular actors were remarkable in any part of their private lives, that might sometimes make the world merry without doors, i hope my laughing friends will excuse me if i do not so far comply with their desires or curiosity as to give them a place in my history. i can only recommend such anecdotes to the amusement of a noble person, who (in case i conceal them) does me the flattering honour to threaten my work with a supplement. 'tis enough for me that such actors had their merits to the publick: let those recite their imperfections who are themselves without them: it is my misfortune not to have that qualification. let us see then (whatever was amiss in it) how our administration went forward. when we were first invested with this power, the joy of our so unexpectedly coming into it kept us for some time in amity and good-humour with one another: and the pleasure of reforming the many false measures, absurdities, and abuses, that, like weeds, had suck'd up the due nourishment from the fruits of the theatre, gave us as yet no leisure for private dissentions. our daily receipts exceeded our imagination: and we seldom met as a board to settle our weekly accounts without the satisfaction of joint-heirs just in possession of an unexpected estate that had been distantly intail'd upon them. such a sudden change of our condition it may be imagin'd could not but throw out of us a new spirit in almost every play we appear'd in: nor did we ever sink into that common negligence which is apt to follow good-fortune: industry we knew was the life of our business; that it not only conceal'd faults, but was of equal value to greater talents without it; which the decadence once of _betterton_'s company in _lincoln's-inn-fields_ had lately shewn us a proof of. this then was that happy period, when both actors and menagers were in their highest enjoyment of general content and prosperity. now it was that the politer world, too, by their decent attention, their sensible taste, and their generous encouragements to authors and actors, once more saw that the stage, under a due regulation, was capable of being what the wisest ages thought it _might_ be, the most rational scheme that human wit could form to dissipate with innocence the cares of life, to allure even the turbulent or ill-disposed from worse meditations, and to give the leisure hours of business and virtue an instructive recreation. if this grave assertion is less recommended by falling from the pen of a comedian, i must appeal for the truth of it to the tragedy of _cato_, which was first acted in .[ ] i submit to the judgment of those who were then the sensible spectators of it, if the success and merit of that play was not an evidence of every article of that value which i have given to a decent theatre? but (as i was observing) it could not be expected the summer days i am speaking of could be the constant weather of the year; we had our clouded hours as well as our sun-shine, and were not always in the same good-humour with one another: fire, air, and water could not be more vexatiously opposite than the different tempers of the three menagers, though they might equally have their useful as well as their destructive qualities. how variously these elements in our several dispositions operated may be judged from the following single instance, as well as a thousand others, which, if they were all to be told, might possibly make my reader wish i had forgot them. much about this time, then, there came over from _dublin_ theatre two uncelebrated actors to pick up a few pence among us in the winter, as _wilks_ had a year or two before done on their side the water in the summer.[ ] but it was not so clear to _dogget_ and myself that it was in their power to do us the same service in _drury-lane_ as _wilks_ might have done them in _dublin_. however, _wilks_ was so much a man of honour that he scorned to be outdone in the least point of it, let the cost be what it would to his fellow-menagers, who had no particular accounts of honour open with them. to acquit himself therefore with a better grace, _wilks_ so order'd it, that his _hibernian_ friends were got upon our stage before any other menager had well heard of their arrival. this so generous dispatch of their affair gave _wilks_ a very good chance of convincing his friends that himself was sole master of the masters of the company. here, now, the different elements in our tempers began to work with us. while _wilks_ was only animated by a grateful hospitality to his friends, _dogget_ was ruffled into a storm, and look'd upon this generosity as so much insult and injustice upon himself and the fraternity. during this disorder i stood by, a seeming quiet passenger, and, since talking to the winds i knew could be to no great purpose (whatever weakness it might be call'd) could not help smiling to observe with what officious ease and delight _wilks_ was treating his friends at our expence, who were scarce acquainted with them: for it seems all this was to end in their having a benefit-play in the height of the season, for the unprofitable service they had done us without our consent or desire to employ them. upon this _dogget_ bounc'd and grew almost as untractable as _wilks_ himself. here, again, i was forc'd to clap my patience to the helm to weather this difficult point between them: applying myself therefore to the person i imagin'd was most likely to hear me, i desired _dogget_ "to consider that i must naturally be as much hurt by this vain and over-bearing behaviour in _wilks_ as he could be; and that tho' it was true these actors had no pretence to the favour design'd them, yet we could not say they had done us any farther harm, than letting the town see the parts they had been shewn in, had been better done by those to whom they properly belong'd: yet as we had greatly profited by the extraordinary labour of _wilks_, who acted long parts almost every day, and at least twice to _dogget_'s once;[ ] and that i granted it might not be so much his consideration of our common interest, as his fondness for applause, that set him to work, yet even that vanity, if he supposed it such, had its merit to us; and as we had found our account in it, it would be folly upon a punctilio to tempt the rashness of a man, who was capable to undo all he had done, by any act of extravagance that might fly into his head: that admitting this benefit might be some little loss to us, yet to break with him upon it could not but be ten times of worse consequence, than our overlooking his disagreeable manner of making the demand upon us." [illustration: robert wilks] though i found this had made _dogget_ drop the severity of his features, yet he endeavoured still to seem uneasy, by his starting a new objection, which was, that we could not be sure even of the charge they were to pay for it: for _wilks_, said he, you know, will go any lengths to make it a good day to them, and may whisper the door-keepers to give them the ready-money taken, and return the account in such tickets only as these actors have not themselves disposed of. to make this easy too, i gave him my word to be answerable for the charge my self. upon this he acceded, and accordingly they had the benefit-play. but so it happen'd (whether as _dogget_ had suspected or not, i cannot say) the ready-money receiv'd fell ten pounds short of the sum they had agreed to pay for it. upon the _saturday_ following, (the day on which we constantly made up our accounts) i went early to the office, and inquired if the ten pounds had yet been paid in; but not hearing that one shilling of it had found its way thither, i immediately supply'd the sum out of my own pocket, and directed the treasurer to charge it received from me in the deficient receipt of the benefit-day. here, now, it might be imagined, all this silly matter was accommodated, and that no one could so properly say he was aggrieved as myself: but let us observe what the consequence says--why, the effect of my insolent interposing honesty prov'd to be this: that the party most oblig'd was the most offended; and the offence was imputed to me who had been ten pounds out of pocket to be able to commit it: for when _wilks_ found in the account how spitefully the ten pounds had been paid in, he took me aside into the adjacent stone-passage, and with some warmth ask'd me, what i meant by pretending to pay in this ten pounds? and that, for his part, he did not understand such treatment. to which i reply'd, that tho' i was amaz'd at his thinking himself ill-treated, i would give him a plain, justifiable answer.----that i had given my word to _dogget_ the charge of the benefit should be fully paid, and since his friends had neglected it, i found myself bound to make it good. upon which he told me i was mistaken if i thought he did not see into the bottom of all this--that _dogget_ and i were always endeavouring to thwart and make him uneasy; but he was able to stand upon his own legs, and we should find he would not be used so: that he took this payment of the ten pounds as an insult upon him and a slight to his friends; but rather than suffer it he would tear the whole business to pieces: that i knew it was in his power to do it; and if he could not do a civil thing to a friend without all this senseless rout about it, he could be received in _ireland_ upon his own terms, and could as easily mend a company there as he had done here: that if he were gone, _dogget_ and i would not be able to keep the doors open a week; and, by g--, he would not be a drudge for nothing. as i knew all this was but the foam of the high value he had set upon himself, i thought it not amiss to seem a little silently concerned, for the helpless condition to which his resentment of the injury i have related was going to reduce us: for i knew i had a friend in his heart that, if i gave him a little time to cool, would soon bring him to reason: the sweet morsel of a thousand pounds a year was not to be met with at every table, and might tempt a nicer palate than his own to swallow it, when he was not out of humour. this i knew would always be of weight with him, when the best arguments i could use would be of none. i therefore gave him no farther provocation than by gravely telling him, we all had it in our power to do one another a mischief; but i believed none of us much cared to hurt ourselves; that if he was not of my opinion, it would not be in my power to hinder whatever new scheme he might resolve upon; that _london_ would always have a play-house, and i should have some chance in it, tho' it might not be so good as it had been; that he might be sure, if i had thought my paying in the ten pounds could have been so ill received, i should have been glad to have saved it. upon this he seem'd to mutter something to himself, and walk'd off as if he had a mind to be alone. i took the occasion, and return'd to _dogget_ to finish our accounts. in about six minutes _wilks_ came in to us, not in the best humour, it may be imagined; yet not in so ill a one but that he took his share of the ten pounds without shewing the least contempt of it; which, had he been proud enough to have refused, or to have paid in himself, i might have thought he intended to make good his menaces, and that the injury i had done him would never have been forgiven; but it seems we had different ways of thinking. of this kind, more or less delightful, was the life i led with this impatient man for full twenty years. _dogget_, as we shall find, could not hold it so long; but as he had more money than i, he had not occasion for so much philosophy. and thus were our theatrical affairs frequently disconcerted by this irascible commander, this _achilles_ of our confederacy, who, i may be bold to say, came very little short of the spirit _horace_ gives to that hero in his-- _impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer._[ ] this, then, is one of those personal anecdotes of our variances, which, as our publick performances were affected by it, could not, with regard to truth and justice, be omitted. from this time to the year my memory (from which repository alone every article of what i write is collected) has nothing worth mentioning, 'till the first acting of the tragedy of _cato_.[ ] as to the play itself, it might be enough to say, that the author and the actors had their different hopes of fame and profit amply answer'd by the performance; but as its success was attended with remarkable consequences, it may not be amiss to trace it from its several years concealment in the closet, to the stage. in , nine years before it was acted, i had the pleasure of reading the first four acts (which was all of it then written) privately with sir _richard steele_: it may be needless to say it was impossible to lay them out of my hand 'till i had gone thro' them, or to dwell upon the delight his friendship to the author receiv'd upon my being so warmly pleas'd with them: but my satisfaction was as highly disappointed when he told me, whatever spirit mr. _addison_ had shewn in his writing it, he doubted he would never have courage enough to let his _cato_ stand the censure of an _english_ audience; that it had only been the amusement of his leisure hours in _italy_, and was never intended for the stage. this poetical diffidence[ ] sir _richard_ himself spoke of with some concern, and in the transport of his imagination could not help saying, _good god!_ what a part would _betterton_ make of _cato!_ but this was seven years before _betterton_ died, and when _booth_ (who afterwards made his fortune by acting it) was in his theatrical minority. in the latter end of queen _anne_'s reign, when our national politicks had changed hands, the friends of mr. _addison_ then thought it a proper time to animate the publick with the sentiments of _cato_; in a word, their importunities were too warm to be resisted; and it was no sooner finish'd than hurried to the stage, in _april_, ,[ ] at a time when three days a week were usually appointed for the benefit plays of particular actors: but a work of that critical importance was to make its way through all private considerations; nor could it possibly give place to a custom, which the breach of could very little prejudice the benefits, that on so unavoidable an occasion were (in part, tho' not wholly) postpon'd; it was therefore (_mondays_ excepted) acted every day for a month to constantly crowded houses.[ ] as the author had made us a present of whatever profits he might have claim'd from it, we thought our selves oblig'd to spare no cost in the proper decorations of it. its coming so late in the season to the stage prov'd of particular advantage to the sharing actors, because the harvest of our annual gains was generally over before the middle of _march_, many select audiences being then usually reserv'd in favour to the benefits of private actors; which fixt engagements naturally abated the receipts of the days before and after them: but this unexpected aftercrop of _cato_ largely supplied to us those deficiencies, and was almost equal to two fruitful seasons in the same year; at the close of which the three menaging actors found themselves each a gainer of thirteen hundred and fifty pounds: but to return to the first reception of this play from the publick. although _cato_ seems plainly written upon what are called _whig_ principles, yet the _torys_ of that time had sense enough not to take it as the least reflection upon their administration; but, on the contrary, they seem'd to brandish and vaunt their approbation of every sentiment in favour of liberty, which, by a publick act of their generosity, was carried so high, that one day, while the play was acting, they collected fifty guineas in the boxes, and made a present of them to _booth_, with this compliment----_for his honest opposition to a perpetual dictator, and his dying so bravely in the cause of liberty_: what was insinuated by any part of these words is not my affair;[ ] but so publick a reward had the appearance of a laudable spirit, which only such a play as _cato_ could have inspired; nor could _booth_ be blam'd if, upon so particular a distinction of his merit, he began himself to set more value upon it: how far he might carry it, in making use of the favour he stood in with a certain nobleman[ ] then in power at court, was not difficult to penetrate, and indeed ought always to have been expected by the menaging actors: for which of them (making the case every way his own) could with such advantages have contented himself in the humble station of an hired actor? but let us see how the menagers stood severally affected upon this occasion. _dogget_, who expected, though he fear'd not, the attempt of what after happen'd, imagin'd he had thought of an expedient to prevent it: and to cover his design with all the art of a statesman, he insinuated to us (for he was a staunch _whig_) that this present of fifty guineas was a sort of a _tory_ triumph which they had no pretence to; and that for his part he could not bear that so redoubted a champion for liberty as _cato_ should be bought off to the cause of a contrary party: he therefore, in the seeming zeal of his heart, proposed that the menagers themselves should make the same present to _booth_ which had been made him from the boxes the day before. this, he said, would recommend the equality and liberal spirit of our menagement to the town, and might be a means to secure _booth_ more firmly in our interest, it never having been known that the skill of the best actor had receiv'd so round a reward or gratuity in one day before. _wilks_, who wanted nothing but abilities to be as cunning as _dogget_, was so charm'd with the proposal that he long'd that moment to make _booth_ the present with his own hands; and though he knew he had no right to do it without my consent, had no patience to ask it; upon which i turned to _dogget_ with a cold smile, and told him, that if _booth_ could be purchas'd at so cheap a rate, it would be one of the best proofs of his oeconomy we had ever been beholden to: i therefore desired we might have a little patience; that our doing it too hastily might be only making sure of an occasion to throw the fifty guineas away; for if we should be obliged to do better for him, we could never expect that _booth_ would think himself bound in honour to refund them. this seem'd so absurd an argument to _wilks_ that he began, with his usual freedom of speech, to treat it as a pitiful evasion of their intended generosity: but _dogget_, who was not so wide of my meaning, clapping his hand upon mine, said, with an air of security, o! don't trouble yourself! there must be two words to that bargain; let me alone to menage that matter. _wilks_, upon this dark discourse, grew uneasy, as if there were some secret between us that he was to be left out of. therefore, to avoid the shock of his intemperance, i was reduc'd to tell him that it was my opinion, that _booth_ would never be made easy by any thing we could do for him, 'till he had a share in the profits and menagement; and that, as he did not want friends to assist him, whatever his merit might be before, every one would think, since his acting of _cato_, he had now enough to back his pretensions to it. to which _dogget_ reply'd, that nobody could think his merit was slighted by so handsome a present as fifty guineas; and that, for his farther pretensions, whatever the license might avail, our property of house, scenes, and cloaths were our own, and not in the power of the crown to dispose of. to conclude, my objections that the money would be only thrown away, _&c._ were over-rul'd, and the same night _booth_ had the fifty guineas, which he receiv'd with a thankfulness that made _wilks_ and _dogget_ perfectly easy, insomuch that they seem'd for some time to triumph in their conduct, and often endeavour'd to laugh my jealousy out of countenance: but in the following winter the game happen'd to take a different turn; and then, if it had been a laughing matter, i had as strong an occasion to smile at their former security. but before i make an end of this matter, i cannot pass over the good fortune of the company that followed us to the act at _oxford_, which was held in the intervening summer: perhaps, too, a short view of the stage in that different situation may not be unacceptable to the curious. after the restoration of king _charles_, before the _cavalier_ and _round-head_ parties, under their new denomination of _whig_ and _tory_, began again to be politically troublesome, publick acts at _oxford_ (as i find by the date of several prologues written by _dryden_[ ] for _hart_ on those occasions) had been more frequently held than in later reigns. whether the same party-dissentions may have occasion'd the discontinuance of them, is a speculation not necessary to be enter'd into. but these academical jubilees have usually been look'd upon as a kind of congratulatory compliment to the accession of every new prince to the throne, and generally, as such, have attended them. king _james_,[ ] notwithstanding his religion, had the honour of it; at which the players, as usual, assisted. this i have only mention'd to give the reader a theatrical anecdote of a liberty which _tony leigh_ the comedian took with the character of the well known _obadiah walker_,[ ] then head of _university college_, who in that prince's reign had turn'd _roman catholick_: the circumstance is this. in the latter end of the comedy call'd the _committee_, _leigh_, who acted the part of _teague_, hauling in _obadiah_ with an halter about his neck, whom, according to his written part, he was to threaten to hang for no better reason than his refusing to drink the king's health, (but here _leigh_) to justify his purpose with a stronger provocation, put himself into a more than ordinary heat with his captive _obadiah_, which having heightened his master's curiosity to know what _obadiah_ had done to deserve such usage, _leigh_, folding his arms, with a ridiculous stare of astonishment, reply'd--_upon my shoule, he has shange his religion_. as the merit of this jest lay chiefly in the auditors' sudden application of it to the _obadiah_ of _oxford_, it was received with all the triumph of applause which the zeal of a different religion could inspire. but _leigh_ was given to understand that the king was highly displeased at it, inasmuch as it had shewn him that the university was in a temper to make a jest of his proselyte. but to return to the conduct of our own affairs there in .[ ] it had been a custom for the comedians while at _oxford_ to act twice a day; the first play ending every morning before the college hours of dining, and the other never to break into the time of shutting their gates in the evening. this extraordinary labour gave all the hired actors a title to double pay, which, at the act in king _william_'s time, i had myself accordingly received there. but the present menagers considering that, by acting only once a day, their spirits might be fresher for every single performance, and that by this means they might be able to fill up the term of their residence, without the repetition of their best and strongest plays; and as their theatre was contrived to hold a full third more than the usual form of it had done, one house well fill'd might answer the profits of two but moderately taken up: being enabled, too, by their late success at _london_, to make the journey pleasant and profitable to the rest of their society, they resolved to continue to them their double pay, notwithstanding this new abatement of half their labour. this conduct of the menagers more than answered their intention, which was rather to get nothing themselves than not let their fraternity be the better for the expedition. thus they laid an obligation upon their company, and were themselves considerably, though unexpected, gainers by it. but my chief reason for bringing the reader to _oxford_ was to shew the different taste of plays there from that which prevail'd at _london_. a great deal of that false, flashy wit and forc'd humour, which had been the delight of our metropolitan multitude, was only rated there at its bare intrinsick value;[ ] applause was not to be purchased there but by the true sterling, the _sal atticum_ of a genius, unless where the skill of the actor pass'd it upon them with some extraordinary strokes of nature. _shakespear_ and _johnson_ had there a sort of classical authority; for whose masterly scenes they seem'd to have as implicit a reverence as formerly for the ethicks of _aristotle_; and were as incapable of allowing moderns to be their competitors, as of changing their academical habits for gaudy colours or embroidery. whatever merit, therefore, some few of our more politely-written comedies might pretend to, they had not the same effect upon the imagination there, nor were received with that extraordinary applause they had met with from the people of mode and pleasure in _london_, whose vain accomplishments did not dislike themselves in the glass that was held to them: the elegant follies of higher life were not at _oxford_ among their acquaintance, and consequently might not be so good company to a learned audience as nature, in her plain dress and unornamented, in her pursuits and inclinations seem'd to be. the only distinguish'd merit allow'd to any modern writer[ ] was to the author of _cato_, which play being the flower of a plant raised in that learned garden, (for there mr. _addison_ had his education) what favour may we not suppose was due to him from an audience of brethren, who from that local relation to him might naturally have a warmer pleasure in their benevolence to his fame? but not to give more weight to this imaginary circumstance than it may bear, the fact was, that on our first day of acting it our house was in a manner invested, and entrance demanded by twelve a clock at noon, and before one it was not wide enough for many who came too late for places. the same crowds continued for three days together, (an uncommon curiosity in that place) and the death of _cato_ triumph'd over the injuries of _cæsar_ every where. to conclude, our reception at _oxford_, whatever our merit might be, exceeded our expectation. at our taking leave we had the thanks of the vice-chancellor for the decency and order observ'd by our whole society, an honour which had not always been paid upon the same occasions; for at the act in king _william_'s time i remember some pranks of a different nature had been complain'd of. our receipts had not only enabled us (as i have observ'd) to double the pay of every actor, but to afford out of them towards the repair of st _mary_'s church the contribution of fifty pounds: besides which, each of the three menagers had to his respective share, clear of all charges, one hundred and fifty more for his one and twenty day's labour, which being added to his thirteen hundred and fifty shared in the winter preceding, amounted in the whole to fifteen hundred, the greatest sum ever known to have been shared in one year to that time: and to the honour of our auditors here and elsewhere be it spoken, all this was rais'd without the aid of those barbarous entertainments with which, some few years after (upon the re-establishment of two contending companies) we were forc'd to disgrace the stage to support it. this, therefore, is that remarkable period when the stage, during my time upon it, was the least reproachable: and it may be worth the publick observation (if any thing i have said of it can be so) that _one_ stage may, as i have prov'd it has done, very laudably support it self by such spectacles only as are fit to delight a sensible people; but the equal prosperity of _two_ stages has always been of a very short duration. if therefore the publick should ever recover into the true taste of that time, and stick to it, the stage must come into it, or _starve_; as, whenever the general taste is vulgar, the stage must come down to it to _live_.----but i ask pardon of the multitude, who, in all regulations of the stage, may expect to be a little indulg'd in what they like: if therefore they _will_ have a may-pole, why, the players must _give_ them a may-pole; but i only speak in case they should keep an old custom of changing their minds, and by their privilege of being in the _wrong_, should take a fancy, by way of variety, of being in the _right_----then, in such a case, what i have said may appear to have been no intended design against their liberty of judging for themselves. after our return from _oxford_, _booth_ was at full leisure to solicit his admission to a share in the menagement,[ ] in which he succeeded about the beginning of the following winter: accordingly a new license (recalling all former licenses) was issued, wherein _booth_'s name was added to those of the other menagers.[ ] but still there was a difficulty in his qualification to be adjusted; what consideration he should allow for an equal title to our stock of cloaths, scenes, _&c._ without which the license was of no more use than the stock was without the license; or, at least, if there were any difference, the former menagers seem'd to have the advantage in it; the stock being intirely theirs, and three parts in four of the license; for _collier_, though now but a fifth menager, still insisted on his former appointment of _l._ a year, which in equity ought certainly to have been proportionably abated: but court-favour was not always measur'd by _that_ yard; _collier's_ matter was soon out of the question; his pretensions were too visible to be contested; but the affair of _booth_ was not so clear a point: the lord chamberlain, therefore, only recommended it to be adjusted among our selves; which, to say the truth, at that time was a greater indulgence than i expected. let us see, then, how this critical case was handled. _wilks_ was of opinion, that to set a good round value upon our stock, was the only way to come near an equivalent for the diminution of our shares, which the admission of _booth_ must occasion: but _dogget_ insisted that he had no mind to dispose of any part of his property, and therefore would set no price upon it at all. though i allow'd that both these opinions might be grounded on a good deal of equity, yet i was not sure that either of them was practicable; and therefore told them, that when they could both agree which of them could be made so, they might rely on my consent in any shape. in the mean time i desired they would consider, that as our license subsisted only during pleasure, we could not pretend that the queen might not recall or alter it: but that to speak out, without mincing the matter on either side, the truth was plainly this: that _booth_ had a manifest merit as an actor; and as he was not supposed to be a _whig_, it was as evident that a good deal for that reason a secretary of state had taken him into his protection, which i was afraid the weak pretence of our invaded property would not be able to contend with: that his having signaliz'd himself in the character of _cato_ (whose principles the _tories_ had affected to have taken into their own possession) was a very popular pretence of making him free of the stage, by advancing him to the profits of it. and, as we had seen that the stage was frequently treated as if it was not suppos'd to have any property at all, this favour intended to _booth_ was thought a right occasion to avow that opinion by disposing of its property at pleasure: but be that as it might, i own'd it was not so much my apprehensions of what the _court_ might do, that sway'd me into an accommodation with _booth_, as what the _town_, (in whose favour he now apparently stood) might think _ought_ to be done: that there might be more danger in contesting their arbitrary will and pleasure than in disputing this less terrible strain of the prerogative. that if _booth_ were only impos'd upon us from his merit to the court, we were then in the condition of other subjects: then, indeed, law, right, and possession might have a tolerable tug for our property: but as the town would always look upon his merit to _them_ in a stronger light, and be judges of it themselves, it would be a weak and idle endeavour in us not to sail with the stream, when we might possibly make a merit of our cheerfully admitting him: that though his former opposition to our interest might, between man and man, a good deal justify our not making an earlier friend of him; yet that was a disobligation out of the town's regard, and consequently would be of no weight against so approv'd an actor's being preferr'd. but all this notwithstanding, if they could both agree in a different opinion, i would, at the hazard of any consequence, be guided by it. here, now, will be shewn another instance of our different tempers: _dogget_ (who, in all matters that concern'd our common weal and interest, little regarded our opinion, and even to an obstinacy walk'd by his own) look'd only out of humour at what i had said, and, without thinking himself oblig'd to give any reason for it, declar'd he would maintain his property. _wilks_ (who, upon the same occasions, was as remarkably ductile, as when his superiority on the stage was in question he was assuming and intractable) said, for his part, provided our business of acting was not interrupted, he did not care what we did: but, in short, he was for playing on, come what would of it. this last part of his declaration i did not dislike, and therefore i desir'd we might all enter into an immediate treaty with _booth_, upon the terms of his admission. _dogget_ still sullenly reply'd, that he had no occasion to enter into any treaty. _wilks_ then, to soften him, propos'd that, if i liked it, _dogget_ might undertake it himself. i agreed. no! he would not be concern'd in it. i then offer'd the same trust to _wilks_, if _dogget_ approv'd of it. _wilks_ said he was not good at making of bargains, but if i was willing, he would rather leave it to me. _dogget_ at this rose up and said, we might both do as we pleas'd, but that nothing but the law should make him part with his property--and so went out of the room. after which he never came among us more, either as an actor or menager.[ ] by his having in this abrupt manner abdicated his post in our government, what he left of it naturally devolv'd upon _wilks_ and myself. however, this did not so much distress our affair as i have reason to believe _dogget_ thought it would: for though by our indentures tripartite we could not dispose of his property without his consent; yet those indentures could not oblige us to fast because he had no appetite; and if the mill did not grind, we could have no bread: we therefore determin'd, at any hazard, to keep our business still going, and that our safest way would be to make the best bargain we could with _booth_; one article of which was to be, that _booth_ should stand equally answerable with us to _dogget_ for the consequence: to which _booth_ made no objection, and the rest of his agreement was to allow us six hundred pounds for his share in our property, which was to be paid by such sums as should arise from half his profits of acting, 'till the whole was discharg'd: yet so cautious were we in this affair, that this agreement was only verbal on our part, tho' written and sign'd by _booth_ as what intirely contented him: however, bond and judgment could not have made it more secure to him; for he had his share, and was able to discharge the incumbrance upon it by his income of that year only. let us see what _dogget_ did in this affair after he had left us. might it not be imagin'd that _wilks_ and myself, by having made this matter easy to _booth_, should have deserv'd the approbation at least, if not the favour of the court that had exerted so much power to prefer him? but shall i be believed when i affirm that _dogget_, who had so strongly oppos'd the court in his admission to a share, was very near getting the better of us both upon that account, and for some time appeared to have more favour there than either of us? let me tell out my story, and then think what you please of it. _dogget_, who was equally oblig'd with us to act upon the stage, as to assist in the menagement of it, tho' he had refus'd to do either, still demanded of us his whole share of the profits, without considering what part of them _booth_ might pretend to from our late concessions. after many fruitless endeavours to bring him back to us, _booth_ join'd with us in making him an offer of half a share if he had a mind totally to quit the stage, and make it a _sine-cure_. no! he wanted the whole, and to sit still himself, while we (if we pleased) might work for him or let it alone, and none of us all, neither he nor we, be the better for it. what we imagin'd encourag'd him to hold us at this short defiance was, that he had laid up enough to live upon without the stage (for he was one of those close oeconomists whom prodigals call a miser) and therefore, partly from an inclination as an invincible _whig_ to signalize himself in defence of his property, and as much presuming that our necessities would oblige us to come to his own terms, he was determin'd (even against the opinion of his friends) to make no other peace with us. but not being able by this inflexible perseverance to have his wicked will of us, he was resolv'd to go to the fountain-head of his own distress, and try if from thence he could turn the current against us. he appeal'd to the vice-chamberlain,[ ] to whose direction the adjusting of all these theatrical difficulties was then committed: but there, i dare say, the reader does not expect he should meet with much favour: however, be that as it may; for whether any regard was had to his having some thousands in his pocket; or that he was consider'd as a man who would or could make more noise in the matter than courtiers might care for: or what charms, spells, or conjurations he might make use of, is all darkness to me; yet so it was, he one way or other play'd his part so well, that in a few days after we received an order from the vice-chamberlain, positively commanding us to pay _dogget_ his whole share, notwithstanding we had complain'd before of his having withdrawn himself from acting on the stage, and from the menagement of it. this i thought was a dainty distinction, indeed! that _dogget_'s defiance of the commands in favour of _booth_ should be rewarded with so ample a _sine-cure_, and that we for our obedience should be condemn'd to dig in the mine to pay it him! this bitter pill, i confess, was more than i could down with, and therefore soon determin'd at all events never to take it. but as i had a man in power to deal with, it was not my business to speak _out_ to him, or to set forth our treatment in its proper colours. my only doubt was, whether i could bring _wilks_ into the same sentiments (for he never car'd to litigate any thing that did not affect his figure upon the stage.) but i had the good fortune to lay our condition in so precarious and disagreeable a light to him, if we submitted to this order, that he fir'd before i could get thro' half the consequences of it; and i began now to find it more difficult to keep him within bounds than i had before to alarm him. i then propos'd to him this expedient: that we should draw up a remonstrance, neither seeming to refuse or comply with this order; but to start such objections and perplexing difficulties that should make the whole impracticable: that under such distractions as this would raise in our affairs we could not be answerable to keep open our doors, which consequently would destroy the fruit of the favour lately granted to _booth_, as well as of this intended to _dogget_ himself. to this remonstrance we received an answer in writing, which varied something in the measures to accommodate matters with _dogget_. this was all i desir'd; when i found the style of _sic jubeo_ was alter'd, when this formidable power began to _parley_ with us, we knew there could not be much to be fear'd from it: for i would have remonstrated 'till i had died, rather than have yielded to the roughest or smoothest persuasion, that could intimidate or deceive us. by this conduct we made the affair at last too troublesome for the ease of a courtier to go thro' with. for when it was consider'd that the principal point, the admission of _booth_, was got over, _dogget_ was fairly left to the law for relief.[ ] upon this disappointment _dogget_ accordingly preferred a bill in _chancery_ against us. _wilks_, who hated all business but that of entertaining the publick, left the conduct of our cause to me; in which we had, at our first setting out, this advantage of _dogget_, that we had three pockets to support our expence, where he had but one. my first direction to our solicitor was, to use all possible delay that the law would admit of, a direction that lawyers seldom neglect; by this means we hung up our plaintiff about two years in _chancery_, 'till we were at full leisure to come to a hearing before the lord-chancellor _cooper_, which did not happen 'till after the accession of his late majesty. the issue of it was this. _dogget_ had about fourteen days allow'd him to make his election whether he would return to act as usual: but he declaring, by his counsel, that he rather chose to quit the stage, he was decreed six hundred pounds for his share in our property, with _per cent._ interest from the date of the last license: upon the receipt of which both parties were to sign general-releases, and severally to pay their own costs. by this decree, _dogget_, when his lawyer's bill was paid, scarce got one year's purchase of what we had offer'd him without law, which (as he surviv'd but seven years after it) would have been an annuity of five hundred pounds and a _sine cure_ for life.[ ] tho' there are many persons living who know every article of these facts to be true: yet it will be found that the strongest of them was not the strongest occasion of _dogget_'s quitting the stage. if therefore the reader should not have curiosity enough to know how the publick came to be depriv'd of so valuable an actor, let him consider that he is not obliged to go through the rest of this chapter, which i fairly tell him before-hand will only be fill'd up with a few idle anecdotes leading to that discovery. after our law-suit was ended, _dogget_ for some few years could scarce bear the sight of _wilks_ or myself; tho' (as shall be shewn) for different reasons: yet it was his misfortune to meet with us almost every day. _button_'s coffee-house, so celebrated in the _tatlers_ for the good-company that came there, was at this time in its highest request. _addison_, _steele_, _pope_, and several other gentlemen of different merit, then made it their constant _rendezvous_. nor could _dogget_ decline the agreeable conversation there, tho' he was daily sure to find _wilks_ or myself in the same place to sour his share of it: for as _wilks_ and he were differently proud, the one rejoicing in a captious, over-bearing, valiant pride, and the other in a stiff, sullen, purse-pride, it may be easily conceiv'd, when two such tempers met, how agreeable the sight of one was to the other. and as _dogget_ knew i had been the conductor of our defence against his law-suit, which had hurt him more for the loss he had sustain'd in his reputation of understanding business, which he valued himself upon, than his disappointment had of getting so little by it; it was no wonder if i was intirely out of his good graces, which i confess i was inclin'd upon any reasonable terms to have recover'd; he being of all my theatrical brethren the man i most delighted in: for when he was not in a fit of wisdom, or not over-concerned about his interest, he had a great deal of entertaining humour: i therefore, notwithstanding his reserve, always left the door open to our former intimacy, if he were inclined to come into it. i never failed to give him my hat and _your servant_ wherever i met him; neither of which he would ever return for above a year after; but i still persisted in my usual salutation, without observing whether it was civilly received or not. this ridiculous silence between two comedians, that had so lately liv'd in a constant course of raillery with one another, was often smil'd at by our acquaintance who frequented the same coffee-house: and one of them carried his jest upon it so far, that when i was at some distance from town he wrote me a formal account that _dogget_ was actually dead. after the first surprize his letter gave me was over, i began to consider, that this coming from a droll friend to both of us, might possibly be written to extract some merriment out of my real belief of it: in this i was not unwilling to gratify him, and returned an answer as if i had taken the truth of his news for granted; and was not a little pleas'd that i had so fair an opportunity of speaking my mind freely of _dogget_, which i did, in some favour of his character; i excused his faults, and was just to his merit. his law-suit with us i only imputed to his having naturally deceived himself in the justice of his cause. what i most complain'd of was, his irreconcilable disaffection to me upon it, whom he could not reasonably blame for standing in my own defence; that not to endure me after it was a reflection upon his sense, when all our acquaintance had been witnesses of our former intimacy, which my behaviour in his life-time had plainly shewn him i had a mind to renew. but since he was now gone (however great a churl he was to me) i was sorry my correspondent had lost him. this part of my letter i was sure, if _dogget_'s eyes were still open, would be shewn to him; if not, i had only writ it to no purpose. but about a month after, when i came to town, i had some little reason to imagine it had the effect i wish'd from it: for one day, sitting over-against him at the same coffee-house where we often mixt at the same table, tho' we never exchanged a single syllable, he graciously extended his hand for a pinch of my snuff: as this seem'd from him a sort of breaking the ice of his temper, i took courage upon it to break silence on my side, and ask'd him how he lik'd it? to which, with a slow hesitation naturally assisted by the action of his taking the snuff, he reply'd--_umh! the best--umh!--i have tasted a great while!_--if the reader, who may possibly think all this extremely trifling, will consider that trifles sometimes shew characters in as strong a light as facts of more serious importance, i am in hopes he may allow that my matter less needs an excuse than the excuse itself does; if not, i must stand condemn'd at the end of my story.----but let me go on. after a few days of these coy, lady-like compliances on his side, we grew into a more conversable temper: at last i took a proper occasion, and desired he would be so frank with me as to let me know what was his real dislike, or motive, that made him throw up so good an income as his share with us annually brought him in? for though by our admission of _booth_, it might not probably amount to so much by a hundred or two a year as formerly, yet the remainder was too considerable to be quarrel'd with, and was likely to continue more than the best actors before us had ever got by the stage. and farther, to encourage him to be open, i told him, if i had done any thing that had particularly disobliged him, i was ready, if he could put me in the way, to make him any amends in my power; if not, i desired he would be so just to himself as to let me know the real truth without reserve: but reserve he could not, from his natural temper, easily shake off. all he said came from him by half sentences and _inuendos_, as--no, he had not taken any thing particularly ill--for his part, he was very easy as he was; but where others were to dispose of his property as they pleas'd--if you had stood it out as i did, _booth_ might have paid a better price for it.--you were too much afraid of the court--but that's all over.--there were other things in the play-house.--no man of spirit.--in short, to be always pester'd and provok'd by a trifling wasp--a--vain--shallow!--a man would sooner beg his bread than bear it--(here it was easy to understand him: i therefore ask'd him what he had to bear that i had not my share of?) no! it was not the same thing, he said.--you can play with a bear, or let him alone and do what he would, but i could not let him lay his paws upon me without being hurt; you did not feel him as i did.--and for a man to be cutting of throats upon every trifle at my time of day!--if i had been as covetous as he thought me, may be i might have born it as well as you--but i would not be a lord of the treasury if such a temper as _wilks_'s were to be at the head of it.-- here, then, the whole secret was out. the rest of our conversation was but explaining upon it. in a word, the painful behaviour of _wilks_ had hurt him so sorely that the affair of _booth_ was look'd upon as much a relief as a grievance, in giving him so plausible a pretence to get rid of us all with a better grace. _booth_ too, in a little time, had his share of the same uneasiness, and often complain'd of it to me: yet as we neither of us could then afford to pay _dogget_'s price for our remedy, all we could do was to avoid every occasion in our power of inflaming the distemper: so that we both agreed, tho' _wilks_'s nature was not to be changed, it was a less evil to live with him than without him. tho' i had often suspected, from what i had felt myself, that the temper of _wilks_ was _dogget_'s real quarrel to the stage, yet i could never thoroughly believe it 'till i had it from his own mouth. and i then thought the concern he had shewn at it was a good deal inconsistent with that understanding which was generally allow'd him. when i give my reasons for it, perhaps the reader will not have a better opinion of my own: be that as it may, i cannot help wondering that he who was so much more capable of reflexion than _wilks_, could sacrifice so valuable an income to his impatience of another's natural frailty! and though my stoical way of thinking may be no rule for a wiser man's opinion, yet, if it should happen to be right, the reader may make his use of it. why then should we not always consider that the rashness of abuse is but the false reason of a weak man? and that offensive terms are only used to supply the want of strength in argument? which, as to the common practice of the sober world, we do not find every man in business is oblig'd to resent with a military sense of honour: or if he should, would not the conclusion amount to this? because another wants sense and manners i am obliged to be a madman: for such every man is, more or less, while the passion of anger is in possession of him. and what less can we call that proud man who would put another out of the world only for putting him out of humour? if accounts of the tongue were always to be made up with the sword, all the wisemen in the world might be brought in debtors to blockheads. and when honour pretends to be witness, judge, and executioner in its own cause, if honour were a man, would it be an untruth to say honour is a very impudent fellow? but in _dogget_'s case it may be ask'd, how was he to behave himself? were passionate insults to be born for years together? to these questions i can only answer with two or three more, was he to punish himself because another was in the wrong? how many sensible husbands endure the teizing tongue of a froward wife only because she is the weaker vessel? and why should not a weak man have the same indulgence? daily experience will tell us that the fretful temper of a friend, like the personal beauty of a fine lady, by use and cohabitation may be brought down to give us neither pain nor pleasure. such, at least, and no more, was the distress i found myself in upon the same provocations, which i generally return'd with humming an air to myself; or if the storm grew very high, it might perhaps sometimes ruffle me enough to sing a little out of tune. thus too (if i had any ill nature to gratify) i often saw the unruly passion of the aggressor's mind punish itself by a restless disorder of the body. what inclines me, therefore, to think the conduct of _dogget_ was as rash as the provocations he complain'd of, is that in some time after he had left us he plainly discover'd he had repented it. his acquaintance observ'd to us, that he sent many a long look after his share in the still prosperous state of the stage: but as his heart was too high to declare (what we saw too) his shy inclination to return, he made us no direct overtures. nor, indeed, did we care (though he was a golden actor) to pay too dear for him: for as most of his parts had been pretty well supply'd, he could not now be of his former value to us. however, to shew the town at least that he had not forsworn the stage, he one day condescended to play for the benefit of mrs. _porter_,[ ] in the _wanton wife_, at which he knew his late majesty was to be present.[ ] now (tho' i speak it not of my own knowledge) yet it was not likely mrs. _porter_ would have ask'd that favour of him without some previous hint that it would be granted. his coming among us for that day only had a strong appearance of his laying it in our way to make him proposals, or that he hoped the court or town might intimate to us their desire of seeing him oftener: but as he acted only to do a particular favour, the menagers ow'd him no compliment for it beyond common civilities. and, as that might not be all he proposed by it, his farther views (if he had any) came to nothing. for after this attempt he never returned to the stage. to speak of him as an actor: he was the most an original, and the strictest observer of nature, of all his contemporaries.[ ] he borrow'd from none of them: his manner was his own: he was a pattern to others, whose greatest merit was that they had sometimes tolerably imitated him. in dressing a character to the greatest exactness he was remarkably skilful; the least article of whatever habit he wore seem'd in some degree to speak and mark the different humour he presented; a necessary care in a comedian, in which many have been too remiss or ignorant. he could be extremely ridiculous without stepping into the least impropriety to make him so. his greatest success was in characters of lower life, which he improv'd from the delight he took in his observations of that kind in the real world. in songs, and particular dances, too, of humour, he had no competitor. _congreve_ was a great admirer of him, and found his account in the characters he expressly wrote for him. in those of _fondlewife_, in his _old batchelor_, and _ben_, in _love for love_, no author and actor could be more obliged to their mutual masterly performances. he was very acceptable to several persons of high rank and taste: tho' he seldom car'd to be the comedian but among his more intimate acquaintance. and now let me ask the world a question. when men have any valuable qualities, why are the generality of our modern wits so fond of exposing their failings only, which the wisest of mankind will never wholly be free from? is it of more use to the publick to know their errors than their perfections? why is the account of life to be so unequally stated? though a man may be sometimes debtor to sense or morality, is it not doing him wrong not to let the world see, at the same time, how far he may be creditor to both? are defects and disproportions to be the only labour'd features in a portrait? but perhaps such authors may know how to please the world better than i do, and may naturally suppose that what is delightful to themselves may not be disagreeable to others. for my own part, i confess myself a little touch'd in conscience at what i have just now observ'd to the disadvantage of my other brother-menager. if, therefore, in discovering the true cause of the publick's losing so valuable an actor as _dogget_, i have been obliged to shew the temper of _wilks_ in its natural complexion, ought i not, in amends and balance of his imperfections, to say at the same time of him, that if he was not the most correct or judicious, yet (as _hamlet_ says of the king his father) _take him_ for _all in all_, &c. he was certainly the most diligent, most laborious, and most useful actor that i have seen upon the stage in fifty years.[ ] chapter xv. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _sir_ richard steele _succeeds_ collier _in the theatre-royal_. lincoln's-inn-fields _house rebuilt_. _the patent restored. eight actors at once desert from the king's company. why. a new patent obtain'd by sir_ richard steele, _and assign'd in shares to the menaging actors of_ drury-lane. _of modern pantomimes. the rise of them. vanity invincible and asham'd. the_ non-juror _acted_. _the author not forgiven, and rewarded for it._ upon the death of the queen, plays (as they always had been on the like occasions) were silenc'd for six weeks. but this happening on the first of _august_,[ ] in the long vacation of the theatre, the observance of that ceremony, which at another juncture would have fallen like wet weather upon their harvest, did them now no particular damage. their license, however, being of course to be renewed, that vacation gave the menagers time to cast about for the better alteration of it: and since they knew the pension of seven hundred a year, which had been levied upon them for _collier_, must still be paid to somebody, they imagined the merit of a _whig_ might now have as good a chance for getting into it, as that of a _tory_ had for being continued in it: having no obligations, therefore, to _collier_, who had made the last penny of them, they apply'd themselves to sir _richard steele_, who had distinguished himself by his zeal for the house of _hanover_, and had been expell'd the house of commons for carrying it (as was judg'd at a certain crisis) into a reproach of the government. this we knew was his pretension to that favour in which he now stood at court: we knew, too, the obligations the stage had to his writings; there being scarce a comedian of merit in our whole company whom his _tatlers_ had not made better by his publick recommendation of them. and many days had our house been particularly fill'd by the influence and credit of his pen. obligations of this kind from a gentleman with whom they all had the pleasure of a personal intimacy, the menagers thought could not be more justly return'd than by shewing him some warm instance of their desire to have him at the head of them. we therefore beg'd him to use his interest for the renewal of our license, and that he would do us the honour of getting our names to stand with his in the same commission. this, we told him, would put it still farther into his power of supporting the stage in that reputation, to which his lucubrations had already so much contributed; and that therefore we thought no man had better pretences to partake of its success.[ ] though it may be no addition to the favourable part of this gentleman's character to say with what pleasure he receiv'd this mark of our inclination to him, yet my vanity longs to tell you that it surpriz'd him into an acknowledgment that people who are shy of obligations are cautious of confessing. his spirits took such a lively turn upon it, that had we been all his own sons, no unexpected act of filial duty could have more endear'd us to him. it must be observ'd, then, that as _collier_ had no share in any part of our property, no difficulties from that quarter could obstruct this proposal. and the usual time of our beginning to act for the winter-season now drawing near, we press'd him not to lose any time in his solicitation of this new license. accordingly sir _richard_ apply'd himself to the duke of _marlborough_, the hero of his heart, who, upon the first mention of it, obtain'd it of his majesty for sir _richard_ and the former menagers who were actors. _collier_ we heard no more of.[ ] the court and town being crowded very early in the winter-season, upon the critical turn of affairs so much expected from the _hanover_ succession, the theatre had its particular share of that general blessing by a more than ordinary concourse of spectators. about this time the patentee, having very near finish'd his house in _lincoln's-inn fields_, began to think of forming a new company; and in the mean time found it necessary to apply for leave to employ them. by the weak defence he had always made against the several attacks upon his interest and former government of the theatre, it might be a question, if his house had been ready in the queen's time, whether he would then have had the spirit to ask, or interest enough to obtain leave to use it: but in the following reign, as it did not appear he had done any thing to forfeit the right of his patent, he prevail'd with mr. _craggs_ the younger (afterwards secretary of state) to lay his case before the king, which he did in so effectual a manner that (as mr. _craggs_ himself told me) his majesty was pleas'd to say upon it, "that he remember'd when he had been in _england_ before, in king _charles_ his time, there had been two theatres in _london_; and as the patent seem'd to be a lawful grant, he saw no reason why two play-houses might not be continued."[ ] the suspension of the patent being thus taken off, the younger multitude seem'd to call aloud for two play-houses! many desired another, from the common notion that _two_ would always create emulation in the actors (an opinion which i have consider'd in a former chapter). others, too, were as eager for them, from the natural ill-will that follows the fortunate or prosperous in any undertaking. of this low malevolence we had, now and then, had remarkable instances; we had been forced to dismiss an audience of a hundred and fifty pounds, from a disturbance spirited up by obscure people, who never gave any better reason for it, than that it was their fancy to support the idle complaint of one rival actress against another, in their several pretensions to the chief part in a new tragedy. but as this tumult seem'd only to be the wantonness of _english_ liberty, i shall not presume to lay any farther censure upon it.[ ] now, notwithstanding this publick desire of reestablishing two houses; and though i have allow'd the former actors greatly our superiors; and the menagers i am speaking of not to have been without their private errors: yet under all these disadvantages, it is certain the stage, for twenty years before this time, had never been in so flourishing a condition: and it was as evident to all sensible spectators that this prosperity could be only owing to that better order and closer industry now daily observ'd, and which had formerly been neglected by our predecessors. but that i may not impose upon the reader a merit which was not generally allow'd us, i ought honestly to let him know, that about this time the publick papers, particularly _mist_'s journal, took upon them very often to censure our menagement, with the same freedom and severity as if we had been so many ministers of state: but so it happen'd, that these unfortunate reformers of the world, these self-appointed _censors_, hardly ever hit upon what was really wrong in us; but taking up facts upon trust, or hear-say, piled up many a pompous paragraph that they had ingeniously conceiv'd was sufficient to demolish our administration, or at least to make us very uneasy in it; which, indeed, had so far its effect, that my equally-injur'd brethren, _wilks_ and _booth_, often complain'd to me of these disagreeable aspersions, and propos'd that some publick answer might be made to them, which i always oppos'd by, perhaps, too secure a contempt of what such writers could do to hurt us; and my reason for it was, that i knew but of one way to silence authors of that stamp; which was, to grow insignificant and good for nothing, and then we should hear no more of them: but while we continued in the prosperity of pleasing others, and were not conscious of having deserv'd what they said of us, why should we gratify the little spleen of our enemies by wincing at it,[ ] or give them fresh opportunities to dine upon any reply they might make to our publickly taking notice of them? and though silence might in some cases be a sign of guilt or error confess'd, our accusers were so low in their credit and sense, that the content we gave the publick almost every day from the stage ought to be our only answer to them. however (as i have observ'd) we made many blots, which these unskilful gamesters never hit: but the fidelity of an historian cannot be excus'd the omission of any truth which might make for the other side of the question. i shall therefore confess a fact, which, if a happy accident had not intervened, had brought our affairs into a very tottering condition. this, too, is that fact which in a former chapter i promis'd to set forth as a sea-mark of danger to future menagers in their theatrical course of government.[ ] when the new-built theatre in _lincoln's-inn fields_ was ready to be open'd, seven or eight actors in one day deserted from us to the service of the enemy,[ ] which oblig'd us to postpone many of our best plays for want of some inferior part in them which these deserters had been used to fill: but the indulgence of the royal family, who then frequently honour'd us by their presence, was pleas'd to accept of whatever could be hastily got ready for their entertainment. and tho' this critical good fortune prevented, in some measure, our audiences falling so low as otherwise they might have done, yet it was not sufficient to keep us in our former prosperity: for that year our profits amounted not to above a third part of our usual dividends; tho' in the following year we intirely recover'd them. the chief of these deserters were _keene_, _bullock_, _pack_,[ ] _leigh_, son of the famous _tony leigh_,[ ] and others of less note. 'tis true, they none of them had more than a negative merit, in being only able to do us more harm by their leaving us without notice, than they could do us good by remaining with us: for though the best of them could not support a play, the worst of them by their absence could maim it; as the loss of the least pin in a watch may obstruct its motion. but to come to the true cause of their desertion: after my having discover'd the (long unknown) occasion that drove _dogget_ from the stage before his settled inclination to leave it, it will be less incredible that these actors, upon the first opportunity to relieve themselves, should all in one day have left us from the same cause of uneasiness. for, in a little time after, upon not finding their expectations answer'd in _lincoln's-inn fields_, some of them, who seem'd to answer for the rest, told me the greatest grievance they had in our company was the shocking temper of _wilks_, who, upon every, almost no occasion, let loose the unlimited language of passion upon them in such a manner as their patience was not longer able to support. this, indeed, was what we could not justify! this was a secret that might have made a wholesome paragraph in a critical news-paper! but as it was our good fortune that it came not to the ears of our enemies, the town was not entertain'd with their publick remarks upon it.[ ] after this new theatre had enjoy'd that short run of favour which is apt to follow novelty, their audiences began to flag: but whatever good opinion we had of our own merit, we had not so good a one of the multitude as to depend too much upon the delicacy of their taste: we knew, too, that this company, being so much nearer to the city than we were, would intercept many an honest customer that might not know a good market from a bad one; and that the thinnest of their audiences must be always taking something from the measure of our profits. all these disadvantages, with many others, we were forced to lay before sir _richard steele_, and farther to remonstrate to him, that as he now stood in _collier_'s place, his pension of _l._ was liable to the same conditions that _collier_ had receiv'd it upon; which were, that it should be only payable during our being the only company permitted to act, but in case another should be set up against us, that then this pension was to be liquidated into an equal share with us; and which we now hoped he would be contented with. while we were offering to proceed, sir _richard_ stopt us short by assuring us, that as he came among us by our own invitation, he should always think himself oblig'd to come into any measures for our ease and service: that to be a burthen to our industry would be more disagreeable to him than it could be to us; and as he had always taken a delight in his endeavours for our prosperity, he should be still ready on our own terms to continue them. every one who knew sir _richard steele_ in his prosperity (before the effects of his good-nature had brought him to distresses) knew that this was his manner of dealing with his friends in business: another instance of the same nature will immediately fall in my way. [illustration: richard steele.] when we proposed to put this agreement into writing, he desired us not to hurry ourselves; for that he was advised, upon the late desertion of our actors, to get our license (which only subsisted during pleasure) enlarg'd into a more ample and durable authority, and which he said he had reason to think would be more easily obtain'd, if we were willing that a patent for the same purpose might be granted to him only, for his life and three years after, which he would then assign over to us. this was a prospect beyond our hopes; and what we had long wish'd for; for though i cannot say we had ever reason to grieve at the personal severities or behaviour of any one lord-chamberlain in my time, yet the several officers under them who had not the hearts of noblemen, often treated us (to use _shakespear_'s expression) with all the _insolence_ of _office_ that narrow minds are apt to be elated with; but a patent, we knew, would free us from so abject a state of dependency. accordingly, we desired sir _richard_ to lose no time; he was immediately promised it: in the interim, we sounded the inclination of the actors remaining with us; who had all sense enough to know, that the credit and reputation we stood in with the town, could not but be a better security for their sallaries, than the promise of any other stage put into bonds could make good to them. in a few days after, sir _richard_ told us, that his majesty being apprised that others had a joint power with him in the license, it was expected we should, under our hands, signify that his petition for a patent was preferr'd by the consent of us all. such an acknowledgment was immediately sign'd, and the patent thereupon pass'd the great seal; for which i remember the lord chancellor _cooper_, in compliment to sir _richard_, would receive no fee. we receiv'd the patent _january , _,[ ] and (sir _richard_ being obliged the next morning to set out for _burrowbridge_ in _yorkshire_, where he was soon after elected member of parliament) we were forced that very night to draw up in a hurry ('till our counsel might more adviseably perfect it) his assignment to us of equal shares in the patent, with farther conditions of partnership:[ ] but here i ought to take shame to myself, and at the same time to give this second instance of the equity and honour of sir _richard_: for this assignment (which i had myself the hasty penning of) was so worded, that it gave sir _richard_ as equal a title to our property as it had given us to his authority in the patent: but sir _richard_, notwithstanding, when he return'd to town, took no advantage of the mistake, and consented in our second agreement to pay us twelve hundred pounds to be equally intitled to our property, which at his death we were obliged to repay (as we afterwards did) to his executors; and which, in case any of us had died before him, the survivors were equally obliged to have paid to the executors of such deceased person upon the same account. but sir _richard_'s moderation with us was rewarded with the reverse of _collier_'s stiffness: _collier_, by insisting on his pension, lost three hundred pounds a year; and sir _richard_, by his accepting a share in lieu of it, was, one year with another, as much a gainer. the grant of this patent having assured us of a competent term to be relied on, we were now emboldened to lay out larger sums in the decorations of our plays:[ ] upon the revival of _dryden_'s _all for love_, the habits of that tragedy amounted to an expence of near six hundred pounds; a sum unheard of, for many years before, on the like occasions.[ ] but we thought such extraordinary marks of our acknowledgment were due to the favours which the publick were now again pouring in upon us. about this time we were so much in fashion, and follow'd, that our enemies (who they were it would not be fair to guess, for we never knew them) made their push of a good round lye upon us, to terrify those auditors from our support whom they could not mislead by their private arts or publick invectives. a current report that the walls and roof of our house were liable to fall, had got such ground in the town, that on a sudden we found our audiences unusually decreased by it: _wilks_ was immediately for denouncing war and vengeance on the author of this falshood, and for offering a reward to whoever could discover him. but it was thought more necessary first to disprove the falshood, and then to pay what compliments might be thought adviseable to the author. accordingly an order from the king was obtained, to have our tenement surveyed by sir _thomas hewet_, then the proper officer; whose report of its being in a safe and sound condition, and sign'd by him, was publish'd in every news-paper.[ ] this had so immediate an effect, that our spectators, whose apprehensions had lately kept them absent, now made up our losses by returning to us with a fresh inclination and in greater numbers. when it was first publickly known that the new theatre would be open'd against us; i cannot help going a little back to remember the concern that my brother-menagers express'd at what might be the consequences of it. they imagined that now all those who wish'd ill to us, and particularly a great party who had been disobliged by our shutting them out from behind our scenes, even to the refusal of their money,[ ] would now exert themselves in any partial or extravagant measures that might either hurt us or support our competitors: these, too, were some of those farther reasons which had discouraged them from running the hazard of continuing to sir _richard steele_ the same pension which had been paid to _collier_. upon all which i observed to them, that, for my own part, i had not the same apprehensions; but that i foresaw as many good as bad consequences from two houses: that tho' the novelty might possibly at first abate a little of our profits; yet, if we slacken'd not our industry, that loss would be amply balanced by an equal increase of our ease and quiet: that those turbulent spirits which were always molesting us, would now have other employment: that the question'd merit of our acting would now stand in a clearer light when others were faintly compared to us: that though faults might be found with the best actors that ever were, yet the egregious defects that would appear in others would now be the effectual means to make our superiority shine, if we had any pretence to it: and that what some people hoped might ruin us, would in the end reduce them to give up the dispute, and reconcile them to those who could best entertain them. in every article of this opinion they afterwards found i had not been deceived; and the truth of it may be so well remember'd by many living spectators, that it would be too frivolous and needless a boast to give it any farther observation. but in what i have said i would not be understood to be an advocate for two play-houses: for we shall soon find that two sets of actors tolerated in the same place have constantly ended in the corruption of the theatre; of which the auxiliary entertainments that have so barbarously supply'd the defects of weak action have, for some years past, been a flagrant instance; it may not, therefore, be here improper to shew how our childish pantomimes first came to take so gross a possession of the stage. i have upon several occasions already observ'd, that when one company is too hard for another, the lower in reputation has always been forced to exhibit some new-fangled foppery to draw the multitude after them: of these expedients, singing and dancing had formerly been the most effectual;[ ] but, at the time i am speaking of, our _english_ musick had been so discountenanced since the taste of _italian_ operas prevail'd, that it was to no purpose to pretend to it.[ ] dancing therefore was now the only weight in the opposite scale, and as the new theatre sometimes found their account in it, it could not be safe for us wholly to neglect it. to give even dancing therefore some improvement, and to make it something more than motion without meaning, the fable of _mars_ and _venus_[ ] was form'd into a connected presentation of dances in character, wherein the passions were so happily expressed, and the whole story so intelligibly told by a mute narration of gesture only, that even thinking spectators allow'd it both a pleasing and a rational entertainment; though, at the same time, from our distrust of its reception, we durst not venture to decorate it with any extraordinary expence of scenes or habits; but upon the success of this attempt it was rightly concluded, that if a visible expence in both were added to something of the same nature, it could not fail of drawing the town proportionably after it. from this original hint then (but every way unequal to it) sprung forth that succession of monstrous medlies that have so long infested the stage, and which arose upon one another alternately, at both houses outvying in expence, like contending bribes on both sides at an election, to secure a majority of the multitude. but so it is, truth may complain and merit murmur with what justice it may, the few will never be a match for the many, unless authority should think fit to interpose and put down these poetical drams, these gin-shops of the stage, that intoxicate its auditors and dishonour their understanding with a levity for which i want a name.[ ] if i am ask'd (after my condemning these fooleries myself) how i came to assent or continue my share of expence to them? i have no better excuse for my error than confessing it. i did it against my conscience! and had not virtue enough to starve by opposing a multitude that would have been too hard for me.[ ] now let me ask an odd question: had _harry the fourth_ of _france_ a better excuse for changing his religion?[ ] i was still, in my heart, as much as he could be, on the side of truth and sense, but with this difference, that i had their leave to quit them when they could not support me: for what equivalent could i have found for my falling a martyr to them? how far the heroe or the comedian was in the wrong, let the clergy and the criticks decide. necessity will be as good a plea for the one as the other. but let the question go which way it will, _harry_ iv. has always been allow'd a great man: and what i want of his grandeur, you see by the inference, nature has amply supply'd to me in vanity; a pleasure which neither the pertness of wit or the gravity of wisdom will ever persuade me to part with. and why is there not as much honesty in owning as in concealing it? for though to hide it may be wisdom, to be without it is impossible; and where is the merit of keeping a secret which every body is let into? to say we have no vanity, then, is shewing a great deal of it; as to say we _have_ a great deal cannot be shewing so much: and tho' there may be art in a man's accusing himself, even then it will be more pardonable than self-commendation. do not we find that even good actions have their share of it? that it is as inseparable from our being as our nakedness? and though it may be equally decent to cover it, yet the wisest man can no more be without it, than the weakest can believe he was born in his cloaths. if then what we say of ourselves be true, and not prejudicial to others, to be called vain upon it is no more a reproach than to be called a brown or a fair man. vanity is of all complexions; 'tis the growth of every clime and capacity; authors of all ages have had a tincture of it; and yet you read _horace_, _montaign_, and sir _william temple_, with pleasure. nor am i sure, if it were curable by precept, that mankind would be mended by it! could vanity be eradicated from our nature, i am afraid that the reward of most human virtues would not be found in this world! and happy is he who has no greater sin to answer for in the next! but what is all this to the theatrical follies i was talking of? perhaps not a great deal; but it is to my purpose; for though i am an historian, i do not write to the wise and learned only; i hope to have readers of no more judgment than some of my _quondam_ auditors; and i am afraid they will be as hardly contented with dry matters of fact, as with a plain play without entertainments: this rhapsody, therefore, has been thrown in as a dance between the acts, to make up for the dullness of what would have been by itself only proper. but i now come to my story again. notwithstanding, then, this our compliance with the vulgar taste, we generally made use of these pantomimes but as crutches to our weakest plays: nor were we so lost to all sense of what was valuable as to dishonour our best authors in such bad company: we had still a due respect to several select plays that were able to be their own support; and in which we found our constant account, without painting and patching them out, like prostitutes, with these follies in fashion: if therefore we were not so strictly chaste in the other part of our conduct, let the error of it stand among the silly consequences of two stages. could the interest of both companies have been united in one only theatre, i had been one of the few that would have us'd my utmost endeavour of never admitting to the stage any spectacle that ought not to have been seen there; the errors of my own plays, which i could not see, excepted. and though probably the majority of spectators would not have been so well pleas'd with a theatre so regulated; yet sense and reason cannot lose their intrinsick value because the giddy and the ignorant are blind and deaf, or numerous; and i cannot help saying, it is a reproach to a sensible people to let folly so publickly govern their pleasures. while i am making this grave declaration of what i _would_ have done had one only stage been continued; to obtain an easier belief of my sincerity i ought to put my reader in mind of what i _did_ do, even after two companies were again establish'd. about this time _jacobitism_ had lately exerted itself by the most unprovoked rebellion that our histories have handed down to us since the _norman_ conquest:[ ] i therefore thought that to set the authors and principles of that desperate folly in a fair light, by allowing the mistaken consciences of some their best excuse, and by making the artful pretenders to conscience as ridiculous as they were ungratefully wicked, was a subject fit for the honest satire of comedy, and what might, if it succeeded, do honour to the stage by shewing the valuable use of it.[ ] and considering what numbers at that time might come to it as prejudic'd spectators, it may be allow'd that the undertaking was not less hazardous than laudable. to give life, therefore, to this design, i borrow'd the _tartuffe_ of _moliere_, and turn'd him into a modern _nonjuror_:[ ] upon the hypocrisy of the _french_ character i ingrafted a stronger wickedness, that of an _english_ popish priest lurking under the doctrine of our own church to raise his fortune upon the ruin of a worthy gentleman, whom his dissembled sanctity had seduc'd into the treasonable cause of a _roman catholick_ out-law. how this design, in the play, was executed, i refer to the readers of it; it cannot be mended by any critical remarks i can make in its favour: let it speak for itself. all the reason i had to think it no bad performance was, that it was acted eighteen days running,[ ] and that the party that were hurt by it (as i have been told) have not been the smallest number of my back friends ever since. but happy was it for this play that the very subject was its protection; a few smiles of silent contempt were the utmost disgrace that on the first day of its appearance it was thought safe to throw upon it; as the satire was chiefly employ'd on the enemies of the government, they were not so hardy as to own themselves such by any higher disapprobation or resentment. but as it was then probable i might write again, they knew it would not be long before they might with more security give a loose to their spleen, and make up accounts with me. and to do them justice, in every play i afterwards produced they paid me the balance to a tittle.[ ] but to none was i more beholden than that celebrated author mr. _mist_, whose _weekly journal_,[ ] for about fifteen years following, scarce ever fail'd of passing some of his party compliments upon me: the state and the stage were his frequent parallels, and the minister and _minheer keiber_ the menager were as constantly droll'd upon: now, for my own part, though i could never persuade my wit to have an open account with him (for as he had no effects of his own, i did not think myself oblig'd to answer his bills;) notwithstanding, i will be so charitable to his real _manes_, and to the ashes of his paper, as to mention one particular civility he paid to my memory, after he thought he had ingeniously kill'd me. soon after the _nonjuror_ had receiv'd the favour of the town, i read in one of his journals the following short paragraph, _viz._ _yesterday died mr._ colley cibber, _late comedian of the theatre-royal, notorious for writing the_ nonjuror. the compliment in the latter part i confess i did not dislike, because it came from so impartial a judge; and it really so happen'd that the former part of it was very near being true; for i had that very day just crawled out, after having been some weeks laid up by a fever: however, i saw no use in being thought to be thoroughly dead before my time, and therefore had a mind to see whether the town cared to have me alive again: so the play of the _orphan_ being to be acted that day, i quietly stole myself into the part of the _chaplain_, which i had not been seen in for many years before. the surprize of the audience at my unexpected appearance on the very day i had been dead in the news, and the paleness of my looks, seem'd to make it a doubt whether i was not the ghost of my real self departed: but when i spoke, their wonder eas'd itself by an applause; which convinc'd me they were then satisfied that my friend _mist_ had told a _fib_ of me. now, if simply to have shown myself in broad life, and about my business, after he had _notoriously_ reported me dead, can be called a reply, it was the only one which his paper while alive ever drew from me. how far i may be vain, then, in supposing that this play brought me into the disfavour of so many wits[ ] and valiant auditors as afterwards appear'd against me, let those who may think it worth their notice judge. in the mean time, 'till i can find a better excuse for their sometimes particular treatment of me, i cannot easily give up my suspicion: and if i add a more remarkable fact, that afterwards confirm'd me in it, perhaps it may incline others to join in my opinion. on the first day of the _provok'd husband_, ten years after the _nonjuror_ had appear'd,[ ] a powerful party, not having the fear of publick offence or private injury before their eyes, appear'd most impetuously concern'd for the demolition of it; in which they so far succeeded, that for some time i gave it up for lost; and to follow their blows, in the publick papers of the next day it was attack'd and triumph'd over as a dead and damn'd piece; a swinging criticism was made upon it in general invective terms, for they disdain'd to trouble the world with particulars; their sentence, it seems, was proof enough of its deserving the fate it had met with. but this damn'd play was, notwithstanding, acted twenty-eight nights together, and left off at a receipt of upwards of a hundred and forty pounds; which happen'd to be more than in fifty years before could be then said of any one play whatsoever. now, if such notable behaviour could break out upon so successful a play (which too, upon the share sir _john vanbrugh_ had in it, i will venture to call a good one) what shall we impute it to? why may not i plainly say, it was not the play, but me, who had a hand in it, they did not like? and for what reason? if they were not asham'd of it, why did not they publish it? no! the reason had publish'd itself, i was the author of the _nonjuror_! but, perhaps, of all authors, i ought not to make this sort of complaint, because i have reason to think that that particular offence has made me more honourable friends than enemies; the latter of which i am not unwilling should know (however unequal the merit may be to the reward) that part of the bread i now eat was given me for having writ the _nonjuror_.[ ] and yet i cannot but lament, with many quiet spectators, the helpless misfortune that has so many years attended the stage! that no law has had force enough to give it absolute protection! for 'till we can civilize its auditors, the authors that write for it will seldom have a greater call to it than necessity; and how unlikely is the imagination of the needy to inform or delight the many in affluence? or how often does necessity make many unhappy gentlemen turn authors in spite of nature? what a blessing, therefore, is it! what an enjoy'd deliverance! after a wretch has been driven by fortune to stand so many wanton buffets of unmanly fierceness, to find himself at last quietly lifted above the reach of them! but let not this reflection fall upon my auditors without distinction; for though candour and benevolence are silent virtues, they are as visible as the most vociferous ill-nature; and i confess the publick has given me more frequently reason to be thankful than to complain. chapter xvi. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] _the author steps out of his way. pleads his theatrical cause in chancery. carries it. plays acted at_ hampton-court. _theatrical anecdotes in former reigns. ministers and menagers always censur'd. the difficulty of supplying the stage with good actors consider'd. courtiers and comedians govern'd by the same passions. examples of both. the author quits the stage. why._ having brought the government of the stage through such various changes and revolutions, to this settled state in which it continued to almost the time of my leaving it;[ ] it cannot be suppos'd that a period of so much quiet and so long a train of success (though happy for those who enjoy'd it) can afford such matter of surprize or amusement, as might arise from times of more distress and disorder. a quiet time in history, like a calm in a voyage, leaves us but in an indolent station: to talk of our affairs when they were no longer ruffled by misfortunes, would be a picture without shade, a flat performance at best. as i might, therefore, throw all that tedious time of our tranquillity into one chasm in my history, and cut my way short at once to my last exit from the stage, i shall at least fill it up with such matter only as i have a mind should be known,[ ] how few soever may have patience to read it: yet, as i despair not of some readers who may be most awake when they think others have most occasion to sleep; who may be more pleas'd to find me languid than lively, or in the wrong than in the right; why should i scruple (when it is so easy a matter too) to gratify their particular taste by venturing upon any error that i like, or the weakness of my judgment misleads me to commit? i think, too, i have a very good chance for my success in this passive ambition, by shewing myself in a light i have not been seen in. by your leave then, gentlemen! let the scene open, and at once discover your comedian at the bar! there you will find him a defendant, and pleading his own theatrical cause in a court of _chancery_: but, as i chuse to have a chance of pleasing others as well as of indulging you, gentlemen; i must first beg leave to open my case to them; after which my whole speech upon that occasion shall be at your mercy. in all the transactions of life, there cannot be a more painful circumstance, than a dispute at law with a man with whom we have long liv'd in an agreeable amity: but when sir _richard steele_, to get himself out of difficulties, was oblig'd to throw his affairs into the hands of lawyers and trustees, that consideration, then, could be of no weight: the friend, or the gentleman, had no more to do in the matter! thus, while sir _richard_ no longer acted from himself, it may be no wonder if a flaw was found in our conduct for the law to make work with. it must be observed, then, that about two or three years before this suit was commenc'd, upon sir _richard_'s totally absenting himself from all care and menagement of the stage (which by our articles of partnership he was equally and jointly oblig'd with us to attend) we were reduc'd to let him know that we could not go on at that rate; but that if he expected to make the business a _sine-cure_, we had as much reason to expect a consideration for our extraordinary care of it; and that during his absence we therefore intended to charge our selves at a sallary of _l._ _s._ _d._ every acting day (unless he could shew us cause to the contrary) for our menagement: to which, in his compos'd manner, he only answer'd; that to be sure we knew what was fitter to be done than he did; that he had always taken a delight in making us easy, and had no reason to doubt of our doing him justice. now whether, under this easy stile of approbation, he conceal'd any dislike of our resolution, i cannot say. but, if i may speak my private opinion, i really believe, from his natural negligence of his affairs, he was glad, at any rate, to be excus'd an attendance which he was now grown weary of. but, whether i am deceiv'd or right in my opinion, the fact was truly this, that he never once, directly nor indirectly, complain'd or objected to our being paid the above-mention'd daily sum in near three years together; and yet still continued to absent himself from us and our affairs. but notwithstanding he had seen and done all this with his eyes open; his lawyer thought here was still a fair field for a battle in chancery, in which, though his client might be beaten, he was sure his bill must be paid for it: accordingly, to work with us he went. but, not to be so long as the lawyers were in bringing this cause to an issue, i shall at once let you know, that it came to a hearing before the late sir _joseph jekyll_, then master of the rolls, in the year .[ ] now, as the chief point in dispute was, of what kind or importance the business of a menager was, or in what it principally consisted; it could not be suppos'd that the most learned council could be so well appriz'd of the nature of it, as one who had himself gone through the care and fatigue of it. i was therefore encourag'd by our council to speak to that particular head myself; which i confess i was glad he suffer'd me to undertake; but when i tell you that two of the learned council against us came afterwards to be successively lord-chancellors, it sets my presumption in a light that i still tremble to shew it in: but however, not to assume more merit from its success than was really its due, i ought fairly to let you know, that i was not so hardy as to deliver my pleading without notes, in my hand, of the heads i intended to enlarge upon; for though i thought i could conquer my fear, i could not be so sure of my memory: but when it came to the critical moment, the dread and apprehension of what i had undertaken so disconcerted my courage, that though i had been us'd to talk to above fifty thousand different people every winter, for upwards of thirty years together; an involuntary and unaffected proof of my confusion fell from my eyes; and, as i found myself quite out of my element, i seem'd rather gasping for life than in a condition to cope with the eminent orators against me. but, however, i soon found, from the favourable attention of my hearers, that my diffidence had done me no disservice: and as the truth i was to speak to needed no ornament of words, i delivered it in the plain manner following, _viz._ in this cause, sir, i humbly conceive there are but two points that admit of any material dispute. the first is, whether sir _richard steele_ is as much obliged to do the duty and business of a menager as either _wilks_, _booth_, or _cibber_: and the second is, whether by sir _richard_'s totally withdrawing himself from the business of a menager, the defendants are justifiable in charging to each of themselves the _l._ _s._ _d._ _per diem_ for their particular pains and care in carrying on the whole affairs of the stage without any assistance from sir _richard steele_. as to the first, if i don't mistake the words of the assignment, there is a clause in it that says, all matters relating to the government or menagement of the theatre shall be concluded by a majority of voices. now i presume, sir, there is no room left to alledge that sir _richard_ was ever refused his voice, though in above three years he never desir'd to give it: and i believe there will be as little room to say, that he could have a voice if he were not a menager. but, sir, his being a menager is so self-evident, that it is amazing how he could conceive that he was to take the profits and advantages of a menager without doing the duty of it. and i will be bold to say, sir, that his assignment of the patent to _wilks_, _booth_, and _cibber_, in no one part of it, by the severest construction in the world, can be wrested to throw the heavy burthen of the menagement only upon their shoulders. nor does it appear, sir, that either in his bill, or in his answer to our cross-bill, he has offer'd any hint, or glimpse of a reason, for his withdrawing from the menagement at all; or so much as pretend, from the time complained of, that he ever took the least part of his share of it. now, sir, however unaccountable this conduct of sir _richard_ may seem, we will still allow that he had some cause for it; but whether or no that cause was a reasonable one your honour will the better judge, if i may be indulged in the liberty of explaining it. sir, the case, in plain truth and reality, stands thus: sir _richard_, though no man alive can write better of oeconomy than himself, yet, perhaps, he is above the drudgery of practising it: sir _richard_, then, was often in want of money; and while we were in friendship with him, we often assisted his occasions: but those compliances had so unfortunate an effect, that they only heightened his importunity to borrow more, and the more we lent, the less he minded us, or shew'd any concern for our welfare. upon this, sir, we stopt our hands at once, and peremptorily refus'd to advance another shilling 'till by the balance of our accounts it became due to him. and this treatment (though, we hope, not in the least unjustifiable) we have reason to believe so ruffled his temper, that he at once was as short with us as we had been with him; for, from that day, he never more came near us: nay, sir, he not only continued to neglect what he _should_ have done, but actually did what he ought _not_ to have done: he made an assignment of his share without our consent, in a manifest breach of our agreement: for, sir, we did not lay that restriction upon ourselves for no reason: we knew, before-hand, what trouble and inconvenience it would be to unravel and expose our accounts to strangers, who, if they were to do us no hurt by divulging our secrets, we were sure could do us no good by keeping them. if sir _richard_ had had our common interest at heart, he would have been as warm in it as we were, and as tender of hurting it: but supposing his assigning his share to others may have done us no great injury, it is, at least, a shrewd proof that he did not care whether it did us any or no. and if the clause was not strong enough to restrain him from it in law, there was enough in it to have restrain'd him in honour from breaking it. but take it in its best light, it shews him as remiss a menager in our affairs as he naturally was in his own. suppose, sir, we had all been as careless as himself, which i can't find he has any more right to be than we have, must not our whole affair have fallen to ruin? and may we not, by a parity of reason, suppose, that by his neglect a fourth part of it _does_ fall to ruin? but, sir, there is a particular reason to believe, that, from our want of sir _richard_, more than a fourth part _does_ suffer by it: his rank and figure in the world, while he gave us the assistance of them, were of extraordinary service to us: he had an easier access, and a more regarded audience at court, than our low station of life could pretend to, when our interest wanted (as it often did) a particular solicitation there. but since we have been deprived of him, the very end, the very consideration of his share in our profits is not perform'd on his part. and will sir _richard_, then, make us no compensation for so valuable a loss in our interests, and so palpable an addition to our labour? i am afraid, sir, if we were all to be as indolent in the menaging-part as sir _richard_ presumes he has a right to be; our patent would soon run us as many hundreds in debt, as he had (and still seems willing to have) his share of, for doing of nothing. sir, our next point in question is whether _wilks_, _booth_, and _cibber_ are justifiable in charging the _l._ _s._ _d._ _per diem_ for their extraordinary menagement in the absence of sir _richard steele_. i doubt, sir, it will be hard to come to the solution of this point, unless we may be a little indulg'd in setting forth what is the daily and necessary business and duty of a menager. but, sir, we will endeavour to be as short as the circumstances will admit of. sir, by our books it is apparent that the menagers have under their care no less than one hundred and forty persons in constant daily pay: and among such numbers, it will be no wonder if a great many of them are unskilful, idle, and sometimes untractable; all which tempers are to be led, or driven, watch'd, and restrain'd by the continual skill, care, and patience of the menagers. every menager is oblig'd, in his turn, to attend two or three hours every morning at the rehearsal of plays and other entertainments for the stage, or else every rehearsal would be but a rude meeting of mirth and jollity. the same attendance is as necessary at every play during the time of its publick action, in which one or more of us have constantly been punctual, whether we have had any part in the play then acted or not. a menager ought to be at the reading of every new play when it is first offer'd to the stage, though there are seldom one of those plays in twenty which, upon hearing, proves to be fit for it; and upon such occasions the attendance must be allow'd to be as painfully tedious as the getting rid of the authors of such plays must be disagreeable and difficult. besides this, sir, a menager is to order all new cloaths, to assist in the fancy and propriety of them, to limit the expence, and to withstand the unreasonable importunities of some that are apt to think themselves injur'd if they are not finer than their fellows. a menager is to direct and oversee the painters, machinists, musicians, singers, and dancers; to have an eye upon the door-keepers, under-servants, and officers that, without such care, are too often apt to defraud us, or neglect their duty. and all this, sir, and more, much more, which we hope will be needless to trouble you with, have we done every day, without the least assistance from sir _richard_, even at times when the concern and labour of our parts upon the stage have made it very difficult and irksome to go through with it. in this place, sir, it may be worth observing that sir _richard_, in his answer to our cross-bill, seems to value himself upon _cibber_'s confessing, in the dedication of a play which he made to sir _richard_, that he (sir _richard_) had done the stage very considerable service by leading the town to our plays, and filling our houses by the force and influence of his _tatlers_.[ ] but sir _richard_ forgets that those _tatlers_ were written in the late queen's reign, long before he was admitted to a share in the play-house: and in truth, sir, it was our real sense of those obligations, and sir _richard_'s assuring us they should be continued, that first and chiefly inclin'd us to invite him to share the profits of our labours, upon such farther conditions as in his assignment of the patent to us are specified. and, sir, as _cibber_'s publick acknowledgment of those favours is at the same time an equal proof of sir _richard_'s _power_ to continue them; so, sir, we hope it carries an equal probability that, without his promise to _use_ that power, he would never have been thought on, much less have been invited by us into a joint-menagement of the stage, and into a share of the profits: and, indeed, what pretence could he have form'd for asking a patent from the crown, had he been possess'd of no eminent qualities but in common with other men? but, sir, all these advantages, all these hopes, nay, certainties of greater profits from those great qualities, have we been utterly depriv'd of by the wilful and unexpected neglect of sir _richard_. but we find, sir, it is a common thing in the practice of mankind to justify one error by committing another: for sir _richard_ has not only refused us the extraordinary assistance which he is able and bound to give us; but, on the contrary, to our great expence and loss of time, now calls us to account, in this honourable court, for the wrong we have done him, in not doing his business of a menager for nothing. but, sir, sir _richard_ has not met with such treatment from us: he has not writ plays for us for _nothing_, we paid him very well, and in an extraordinary manner, for his late comedy of the _conscious lovers_: and though, in writing that play, he had more assistance from one of the menagers[ ] than becomes me to enlarge upon, of which evidence has been given upon oath by several of our actors; yet, sir, he was allow'd the full and particular profits of that play as an author, which amounted to three hundred pounds, besides about three hundred more which he received as a joint-sharer of the general profits that arose from it. now, sir, though the menagers are not all of them able to write plays, yet they have all of them been able to do (i won't say as good, but at least) as profitable a thing. they have invented and adorn'd a spectacle that for forty days together has brought more money to the house than the best play that ever was writ. the spectacle i mean, sir, is that of the coronation-ceremony of _anna bullen_:[ ] and though we allow a good play to be the more laudable performance, yet, sir, in the profitable part of it there is no comparison. if, therefore, our spectacle brought in as much, or more money than sir _richard_'s comedy, what is there on his side but usage that intitles him to be paid for one, more than we are for t'other? but then, sir, if he is so profitably distinguish'd for his play, if we yield him up the preference, and pay him for his extraordinary composition, and take nothing for our own, though it turn'd out more to our common profit; sure, sir, while we do such extraordinary duty as menagers, and while he neglects his share of that duty, he cannot grudge us the moderate demand we make for our separate labour? [illustration: barton booth.] to conclude, sir, if by our constant attendance, our care, our anxiety (not to mention the disagreeable contests we sometimes meet with, both within and without doors, in the menagement of our theatre) we have not only saved the whole from ruin, which, if we had all follow'd sir _richard_'s example, could not have been avoided; i say, sir, if we have still made it so valuable an income to him, without his giving us the least assistance for several years past; we hope, sir, that the poor labourers that have done all this for sir _richard_ will not be thought unworthy of their hire. how far our affairs, being set in this particular light, might assist our cause, may be of no great importance to guess; but the issue of it was this: that sir _richard_ not having made any objection to what we had charged for menagement for three years together; and as our proceedings had been all transacted in open day, without any clandestine intention of fraud; we were allow'd the sums in dispute above-mention'd; and sir _richard_ not being advised to appeal to the lord-chancellor, both parties paid their own costs, and thought it their mutual interest to let this be the last of their law-suits. and now, gentle reader, i ask pardon for so long an imposition on your patience: for tho' i may have no ill opinion of this matter myself; yet to you i can very easily conceive it may have been tedious. you are, therefore, at your own liberty of charging the whole impertinence of it, either to the weakness of my judgment, or the strength of my vanity; and i will so far join in your censure, that i farther confess i have been so impatient to give it you, that you have had it out of its turn: for, some years before this suit was commenced, there were other facts that ought to have had a precedence in my history: but that, i dare say, is an oversight you will easily excuse, provided you afterwards find them worth reading. however, as to that point i must take my chance, and shall therefore proceed to speak of the theatre which was order'd by his late majesty to be erected in the great old hall at _hampton-court_; where plays were intended to have been acted twice a week during the summer-season. but before the theatre could be finish'd, above half the month of _september_ being elapsed, there were but seven plays acted before the court returned to _london_.[ ] this throwing open a theatre in a royal palace seem'd to be reviving the old _english_ hospitable grandeur, where the lowest rank of neighbouring subjects might make themselves merry at court without being laugh'd at themselves. in former reigns, theatrical entertainments at the royal palaces had been perform'd at vast expence, as appears by the description of the decorations in several of _ben. johnson_'s masques in king _james_ and _charles the first_'s time;[ ] many curious and original draughts of which, by sir _inigo jones_, i have seen in the _musæum_ of our greatest master and patron of arts and architecture, whom it would be a needless liberty to name.[ ] but when our civil wars ended in the decadence of monarchy, it was then an honour to the stage to have fallen with it: yet, after the restoration of _charles_ ii. some faint attempts were made to revive these theatrical spectacles at court; but i have met with no account of above one masque acted there by the nobility; which was that of _calisto_, written by _crown_, the author of sir _courtly nice_. for what reason _crown_ was chosen to that honour rather than _dryden_, who was then poet-laureat and out of all comparison his superior in poetry, may seem surprizing: but if we consider the offence which the then duke of _buckingham_ took at the character of _zimri_ in _dryden_'s _absalom_, &c. (which might probably be a return to his grace's _drawcansir_ in the _rehearsal_) we may suppose the prejudice and recommendation of so illustrious a pretender to poetry might prevail at court to give crown this preference.[ ] in the same reign the king had his comedians at _windsor_, but upon a particular establishment; for tho' they acted in st. _george_'s hall, within the royal palace, yet (as i have been inform'd by an eye-witness) they were permitted to take money at the door of every spectator; whether this was an indulgence, in conscience i cannot say; but it was a common report among the principal actors, when i first came into the _theatre-royal_, in , that there was then due to the company from that court about one thousand five hundred pounds for plays commanded, _&c._ and yet it was the general complaint, in that prince's reign, that he paid too much ready-money for his pleasures: but these assertions i only give as i received them, without being answerable for their reality. this theatrical anecdote, however, puts me in mind of one of a more private nature, which i had from old solemn _boman_, the late actor of venerable memory.[ ] _boman_, then a youth, and fam'd for his voice, was appointed to sing some part in a concert of musick at the private lodgings of mrs. _gwin_; at which were only present the king, the duke of _york_, and one or two more who were usually admitted upon those detach'd parties of pleasure. when the performance was ended, the king express'd himself highly pleased, and gave it extraordinary commendations: then, sir, said the lady, to shew you don't speak like a courtier, i hope you will make the performers a handsome present: the king said he had no money about him, and ask'd the duke if he had any? to which the duke reply'd, i believe, sir, not above a guinea or two. upon which the laughing lady, turning to the people about her, and making bold with the king's common expression, cry'd, _od's fish! what company am i got into!_ whether the reverend historian of his _own time_,[ ] among the many other reasons of the same kind he might have for stiling this fair one the _indiscreetest and wildest creature that ever was in a court_, might know this to be one of them, i can't say: but if we consider her in all the disadvantages of her rank and education, she does not appear to have had any criminal errors more remarkable than her sex's frailty to answer for: and if the same author, in his latter end of that prince's life, seems to reproach his memory with too kind a concern for her support, we may allow that it becomes a bishop to have had no eyes or taste for the frivolous charms or playful _badinage_ of a king's mistress: yet, if the common fame of her may be believ'd, which in my memory was not doubted, she had less to be laid to her charge than any other of those ladies who were in the same state of preferment: she never meddled in matters of serious moment, or was the tool of working politicians: never broke into those amorous infidelities which others in that grave author are accus'd of; but was as visibly distinguish'd by her particular personal inclination to the king, as her rivals were by their titles and grandeur. give me leave to carry (perhaps the partiality of) my observation a little farther. the same author, in the same page, ,[ ] tells us, that "another of the king's mistresses, the daughter of a clergyman, mrs. _roberts_, in whom her first education had so deep a root, that though she fell into many scandalous disorders, with very dismal adventures in them all, yet a principle of religion was so deep laid in her, that tho' it did not restrain her, yet it kept alive in her such a constant horror of sin, that she was never easy in an ill course, and died with a great sense of her former ill life." to all this let us give an implicit credit: here is the account of a frail sinner made up with a reverend witness! yet i cannot but lament that this mitred historian, who seems to know more personal secrets than any that ever writ before him, should not have been as inquisitive after the last hours of our other fair offender, whose repentance i have been unquestionably inform'd, appear'd in all the contrite symptoms of a christian sincerity. if therefore you find i am so much concern'd to make this favourable mention of the one, because she was a sister of the _theatre_, why may not--but i dare not be so presumptuous, so uncharitably bold, as to suppose the other was spoken better of merely because she was the daughter of a _clergyman_. well, and what then? what's all this idle prate, you may say, to the matter in hand? why, i say your question is a little too critical; and if you won't give an author leave, now and then, to embellish his work by a natural reflexion, you are an ungentle reader. but i have done with my digression, and return to our theatre at _hampton-court_, where i am not sure the reader, be he ever so wise, will meet with any thing more worth his notice: however, if he happens to read, as i write, for want of something better to do, he will go on; and perhaps wonder when i tell him that: a play presented at court, or acted on a publick stage, seem to their different auditors a different entertainment. now hear my reason for it. in the common theatre the guests are at home, where the politer forms of good-breeding are not so nicely regarded: every one there falls to, and likes or finds fault according to his natural taste or appetite. at court, where the prince gives the treat, and honours the table with his own presence, the audience is under the restraint of a circle, where laughter or applause rais'd higher than a whisper would be star'd at. at a publick play they are both let loose, even 'till the actor is sometimes pleas'd with his not being able to be heard for the clamour of them. but this coldness or decency of attention at court i observ'd had but a melancholy effect upon the impatient vanity of some of our actors, who seem'd inconsolable when their flashy endeavours to please had pass'd unheeded: their not considering where they were quite disconcerted them; nor could they recover their spirits 'till from the lowest rank of the audience some gaping _john_ or _joan_, in the fullness of their hearts, roar'd out their approbation: and, indeed, such a natural instance of honest simplicity a prince himself, whose indulgence knows where to make allowances, might reasonably smile at, and perhaps not think it the worst part of his entertainment. yet it must be own'd, that an audience may be as well too much reserv'd, as too profuse of their applause: for though it is possible a _betterton_ would not have been discourag'd from throwing out an excellence, or elated into an error, by his auditors being too little or too much pleas'd, yet, as actors of his judgment are rarities, those of less judgment may sink into a flatness in their performance for want of that applause, which from the generality of judges they might perhaps have some pretence to: and the auditor, when not seeming to feel what ought to affect him, may rob himself of something more that he might have had by giving the actor his due, who measures out his power to please according to the value he sets upon his hearer's taste or capacity. but, however, as we were not here itinerant adventurers, and had properly but one royal auditor to please; after that honour was attain'd to, the rest of our ambition had little to look after: and that the king was often pleas'd, we were not only assur'd by those who had the honour to be near him; but could see it, from the frequent satisfaction in his looks at particular scenes and passages: one instance of which i am tempted to relate, because it was at a speech that might more naturally affect a sovereign prince than any private spectator. in _shakespear_'s _harry the eighth_, that king commands the cardinal to write circular letters of indemnity into every county where the payment of certain heavy taxes had been disputed: upon which the cardinal whispers the following directions to his secretary _cromwell_: _----a word with you: let there be letters writ to every shire of the king's grace and pardon: the griev'd commons hardly conceive of me. let it be nois'd that through our intercession this revokement and pardon comes.--i shall anon advise you farther in the proceeding----_ the solicitude of this spiritual minister, in filching from his master the grace and merit of a good action, and dressing up himself in it, while himself had been author of the evil complain'd of, was so easy a stroke of his temporal conscience, that it seem'd to raise the king into something more than a smile whenever that play came before him: and i had a more distinct occasion to observe this effect; because my proper stand on the stage when i spoke the lines required me to be near the box where the king usually sate:[ ] in a word, this play is so true a dramatick chronicle of an old _english_ court, and where the character of _harry the eighth_ is so exactly drawn, even to a humourous likeness, that it may be no wonder why his majesty's particular taste for it should have commanded it three several times in one winter. this, too, calls to my memory an extravagant pleasantry of sir _richard steele_, who being ask'd by a grave nobleman, after the same play had been presented at _hampton-court_, how the king lik'd it, reply'd, _so terribly well, my lord, that i was afraid i should have lost all my actors_! _for i was not sure the king would not keep them to fill the posts at court that he saw them so fit for in the play._ it may be imagin'd that giving plays to the people at such a distance from _london_ could not but be attended with an extraordinary expence; and it was some difficulty, when they were first talk'd of, to bring them under a moderate sum; i shall therefore, in as few words as possible, give a particular of what establishment they were then brought to, that in case the same entertainments should at any time hereafter be call'd to the same place, future courts may judge how far the precedent may stand good, or need an alteration. though the stated fee for a play acted at _whitehall_ had been formerly but twenty pounds;[ ] yet, as that hinder'd not the company's acting on the same day at the publick theatre, that sum was almost all clear profits to them: but this circumstance not being practicable when they were commanded to _hampton-court_, a new and extraordinary charge was unavoidable: the menagers, therefore, not to inflame it, desired no consideration for their own labour, farther than the honour of being employ'd in his majesty's commands; and, if the other actors might be allow'd each their day's pay and travelling charges, they should hold themselves ready to act any play there at a day's warning: and that the trouble might be less by being divided, the lord-chamberlain was pleas'd to let us know that the houshold-musick, the wax lights, and a _chaise-marine_ to carry our moving wardrobe to every different play, should be under the charge of the proper officers. notwithstanding these assistances, the expence of every play amounted to fifty pounds: which account, when all was over, was not only allow'd us, but his majesty was graciously pleas'd to give the menagers two hundred pounds more for their particular performance and trouble in only seven times acting.[ ] which last sum, though it might not be too much for a sovereign prince to give, it was certainly more than our utmost merit ought to have hop'd for: and i confess, when i receiv'd the order for the money from his grace the duke of _newcastle_, then lord-chamberlain, i was so surpris'd, that i imagin'd his grace's favour, or recommendation of our readiness or diligence, must have contributed to so high a consideration of it, and was offering my acknowledgments as i thought them due; but was soon stopt short by his grace's declaration, that we had no obligations for it but to the king himself, who had given it from no other motive than his own bounty. now whether we may suppose that cardinal _wolsey_ (as you see _shakespear_ has drawn him) would silently have taken such low acknowledgments to himself, perhaps may be as little worth consideration as my mentioning this circumstance has been necessary: but if it is due to the honour and integrity of the (then) lord-chamberlain, i cannot think it wholly impertinent. since that time there has been but one play given at _hampton-court_, which was for the entertainment of the duke of _lorrain_; and for which his present majesty was pleased to order us a hundred pounds. the reader may now plainly see that i am ransacking my memory for such remaining scraps of theatrical history as may not perhaps be worth his notice: but if they are such as tempt me to write them, why may i not hope that in this wide world there may be many an idle soul, no wiser than my self, who may be equally tempted to read them? i have so often had occasion to compare the state of the stage to the state of a nation, that i yet feel a reluctancy to drop the comparison, or speak of the one without some application to the other. how many reigns, then, do i remember, from that of _charles_ the second, through all which there has been, from one half of the people or the other, a succession of clamour against every different ministry for the time being? and yet, let the cause of this clamour have been never so well grounded, it is impossible but that some of those ministers must have been wiser and honester men than others: if this be true, as true i believe it is, why may i not then say, as some fool in a _french_ play does upon a like occasion--_justement, comme chez nous!_ 'twas exactly the same with our menagement! let us have done never so well, we could not please every body: all i can say in our defence is, that though many good judges might possibly conceive how the state of the stage might have been mended, yet the best of them never pretended to remember the time when it was better! or could shew us the way to make their imaginary amendments practicable. for though i have often allow'd that our best merit as actors was never equal to that of our predecessors, yet i will venture to say, that in all its branches the stage had never been under so just, so prosperous, and so settled a regulation, for forty years before, as it was at the time i am speaking of. the most plausible objection to our administration seemed to be, that we took no care to breed up young actors to succeed us;[ ] and this was imputed as the greater fault, because it was taken for granted that it was a matter as easy as planting so many cabbages: now, might not a court as well be reproached for not breeding up a succession of complete ministers? and yet it is evident, that if providence or nature don't supply us with both, the state and the stage will be but poorly supported. if a man of an ample fortune should take it into his head to give a younger son an extraordinary allowance in order to breed him a great poet, what might we suppose would be the odds that his trouble and money would be all thrown away? not more than it would be against the master of a theatre who should say, this or that young man i will take care shall be an excellent actor! let it be our excuse, then, for that mistaken charge against us; that since there was no garden or market where accomplished actors grew or were to be sold, we could only pick them up, as we do pebbles of value, by chance: we may polish a thousand before we can find one fit to make a figure in the lid of a snuff-box. and how few soever we were able to produce, it is no proof that we were not always in search of them: yet, at worst, it was allow'd that our deficiency of men actors was not so visible as our scarcity of tolerable women: but when it is consider'd, that the life of youth and beauty is too short for the bringing an actress to her perfection; were i to mention, too, the many frail fair ones i remember who, before they could arrive to their theatrical maturity, were feloniously stolen from the tree, it would rather be thought our misfortune than our fault that we were not better provided.[ ] even the laws of a nunnery, we find, are thought no sufficient security against temptations without iron grates and high walls to inforce them; which the architecture of a theatre will not so properly admit of: and yet, methinks, beauty that has not those artificial fortresses about it, that has no defence but its natural virtue (which upon the stage has more than once been met with) makes a much more meritorious figure in life than that immur'd virtue which could never be try'd. but alas! as the poor stage is but the show-glass to a toy-shop, we must not wonder if now and then some of the bawbles should find a purchaser. [illustration: susanna maria cibber.] however, as to say more or less than truth are equally unfaithful in an historian, i cannot but own that, in the government of the theatre, i have known many instances where the merit of promising actors has not always been brought forward, with the regard or favour it had a claim to: and if i put my reader in mind, that in the early part of this work i have shewn thro' what continued difficulties and discouragements i myself made my way up the hill of preferment, he may justly call it too strong a glare of my vanity: i am afraid he is in the right; but i pretend not to be one of those chaste authors that know how to write without it: when truth is to be told, it may be as much chance as choice if it happens to turn out in my favour: but to shew that this was true of others as well as myself, _booth_ shall be another instance. in , when _swiney_ was the only master of the company in the _hay-market_; _wilks_, tho' he was then but an hired actor himself, rather chose to govern and give orders than to receive them; and was so jealous of _booth_'s rising, that with a high hand he gave the part of _pierre_, in _venice preserv'd_, to _mills_ the elder, who (not to undervalue him) was out of sight in the pretensions that _booth_, then young as he was, had to the same part:[ ] and this very discouragement so strongly affected him, that not long after, when several of us became sharers with _swiney_, _booth_ rather chose to risque his fortune with the old patentee in _drury-lane_, than come into our interest, where he saw he was like to meet with more of those partialities.[ ] and yet, again, _booth_ himself, when he came to be a menager, would sometimes suffer his judgment to be blinded by his inclination to actors whom the town seem'd to have but an indifferent opinion of. this again inclines me to ask another of my odd questions, _viz._ have we never seen the same passions govern a court! how many white staffs and great places do we find, in our histories, have been laid at the feet of a monarch, because they chose not to give way to a rival in power, or hold a second place in his favour? how many _whigs_ and _tories_ have chang'd their parties, when their good or bad pretensions have met with a check to their higher preferment? thus we see, let the degrees and rank of men be ever so unequal, nature throws out their passions from the same motives; 'tis not the eminence or lowliness of either that makes the one, when provok'd, more or less a reasonable creature than the other: the courtier and the comedian, when their ambition is out of humour, take just the same measures to right themselves. if this familiar stile of talking should, in the nostrils of gravity and wisdom, smell a little too much of the presumptuous or the pragmatical, i will at least descend lower in my apology for it, by calling to my assistance the old, humble proverb, _viz._ _'tis an ill bird that, &c._ why then should i debase my profession by setting it in vulgar lights, when i may shew it to more favourable advantages? and when i speak of our errors, why may i not extenuate them by illustrious examples? or by not allowing them greater than the greatest men have been subject to? or why, indeed, may i not suppose that a sensible reader will rather laugh than look grave at the pomp of my parallels? now, as i am tied down to the veracity of an historian whose facts cannot be supposed, like those in a romance, to be in the choice of the author to make them more marvellous by invention; if i should happen to sink into a little farther insignificancy, let the simple truth of what i have farther to say, be my excuse for it. i am obliged, therefore, to make the experiment, by shewing you the conduct of our theatrical ministry in such lights as on various occasions it appear'd in. though _wilks_ had more industry and application than any actor i had ever known, yet we found it possible that those necessary qualities might sometimes be so misconducted as not only to make them useless, but hurtful to our common-wealth;[ ] for while he was impatient to be foremost in every thing, he frequently shock'd the honest ambition of others, whose measures might have been more serviceable, could his jealousy have given way to them. his own regards for himself, therefore, were, to avoid a disagreeable dispute with him, too often complied with: but this leaving his diligence to his own conduct, made us, in some instances, pay dearly for it: for example; he would take as much, or more pains, in forwarding to the stage the water-gruel work of some insipid author that happen'd rightly to make his court to him,[ ] than he would for the best play wherein it was not his fortune to be chosen for the best character. so great was his impatience to be employ'd, that i scarce remember, in twenty years, above one profitable play we could get to be reviv'd, wherein he found he was to make no considerable figure, independent of him: but the _tempest_ having done wonders formerly, he could not form any pretensions to let it lie longer dormant: however, his coldness to it was so visible, that he took all occasions to postpone and discourage its progress, by frequently taking up the morning-stage with something more to his mind. having been myself particularly solicitous for the reviving this play, _dogget_ (for this was before booth came into the menagement) consented that the extraordinary decorations and habits should be left to my care and direction, as the fittest person whose temper could jossle through the petulant opposition that he knew _wilks_ would be always offering to it, because he had but a middling part in it, that of _ferdinand_: notwithstanding which, so it happen'd, that the success of it shew'd (not to take from the merit of _wilks_) that it was possible to have good audiences without his extraordinary assistance. in the first six days of acting it we paid all our constant and incidental expence, and shar'd each of us a hundred pounds: the greatest profit that in so little a time had yet been known within my memory! but, alas! what was paltry pelf to glory? that was the darling passion of _wilks_'s heart! and not to advance in it was, to so jealous an ambition, a painful retreat, a mere shade to his laurels! and the common benefit was but a poor equivalent to his want of particular applause! to conclude, not prince _lewis_ of _baden_, though a confederate general with the duke of _marlborough_, was more inconsolable upon the memorable victory at _blenheim_, at which he was not present, than our theatrical hero was to see any action prosperous that he was not himself at the head of. if this, then, was an infirmity in _wilks_, why may not my shewing the same weakness in so great a man mollify the imputation, and keep his memory in countenance. this laudable appetite for fame in _wilks_ was not, however, to be fed without that constant labour which only himself was able to come up to: he therefore bethought him of the means to lessen the fatigue, and at the same time to heighten his reputation; which was, by giving up now and then a part to some raw actor who he was sure would disgrace it, and consequently put the audience in mind of his superior performance: among this sort of indulgences to young actors he happen'd once to make a mistake that set his views in a clear light. the best criticks, i believe, will allow that in _shakespear_'s _macbeth_ there are, in the part of _macduff_, two scenes, the one of terror, in the second act, and the other of compassion, in the fourth, equal to any that dramatick poetry has produc'd: these scenes _wilks_ had acted with success, tho' far short of that happier skill and grace which _monfort_ had formerly shewn in them.[ ] such a part, however, one might imagine would be one of the last a good actor would chuse to part with: but _wilks_ was of a different opinion; for _macbeth_ was thrice as long, had more great scenes of action, and bore the name of the play: now, to be a second in any play was what he did not much care for, and had been seldom us'd to: this part of _macduff_, therefore, he had given to one _williams_, as yet no extraordinary, though a promising actor.[ ] _williams_, in the simplicity of his heart, immediately told _booth_ what a favour _wilks_ had done him. _booth_, as he had reason, thought _wilks_ had here carried his indulgence and his authority a little too far; for as _booth_ had no better a part in the same play than that of _banquo_, he found himself too much disregarded in letting so young an actor take place of him: _booth_, therefore, who knew the value of _macduff_, proposed to do it himself, and to give _banquo_ to _williams_; and to make him farther amends, offer'd him any other of his parts that he thought might be of service to him. _williams_ was content with the exchange, and thankful for the promise. this scheme, indeed, (had it taken effect) might have been an ease to _wilks_, and possibly no disadvantage to the play; but softly----that was not quite what we had a mind to! no sooner, then, came this proposal to _wilks_, but off went the masque and out came the secret! for though _wilks_ wanted to be eas'd of the part, he did not desire to be _excell'd_ in it; and as he was not sure but that might be the case if _booth_ were to act it,[ ] he wisely retracted his own project, took _macduff_ again to himself, and while he liv'd never had a thought of running the same hazard by any farther offer to resign it. here i confess i am at a loss for a fact in history to which this can be a parallel! to be weary of a post, even to a real desire of resigning it; and yet to chuse rather to drudge on in it than suffer it to be well supplied (though to share in that advantage) is a delicacy of ambition that _machiavil_ himself has made no mention of: or if in old _rome_, the jealousy of any pretended patriot equally inclin'd to abdicate his office may have come up to it, 'tis more than my reading remembers. as nothing can be more impertinent than shewing too frequent a fear to be thought so, i will, without farther apology, rather risque that imputation than not tell you another story much to the same purpose, and of no more consequence than my last. to make you understand it, however, a little preface will be necessary. if the merit of an actor (as it certainly does) consists more in the quality than the quantity of his labour; the other menagers had no visible reason to think this needless ambition of _wilks_, in being so often and sometimes so unnecessarily employ'd, gave him any title to a superiority; especially when our articles of agreement had allow'd us all to be equal. but what are narrow contracts to great souls with growing desires? _wilks_, therefore, who thought himself lessen'd in appealing to any judgment but his own, plainly discovered by his restless behaviour (though he did not care to speak out) that he thought he had a right to some higher consideration for his performance: this was often _booth_'s opinion, as well as my own. it must be farther observ'd, that he actually had a separate allowance of fifty pounds a year for writing our daily play-bills for the printer: which province, to say the truth, was the only one we car'd to trust to his particular intendance, or could find out for a pretence to distinguish him. but, to speak a plainer truth, this pension, which was no part of our original agreement, was merely paid to keep him quiet, and not that we thought it due to so insignificant a charge as what a prompter had formerly executed. this being really the case, his frequent complaints of being a drudge to the company grew something more than disagreeable to us: for we could not digest the imposition of a man's setting himself to work, and then bringing in his own bill for it. _booth_, therefore, who was less easy than i was to see him so often setting a merit upon this quantity of his labour, which neither could be our interest or his own to lay upon him, proposed to me that we might remove this pretended grievance by reviving some play that might be likely to live, and be easily acted, without _wilks_'s having any part in it. about this time an unexpected occasion offer'd itself to put our project in practice: what follow'd our attempt will be all (if any thing be) worth observation in my story. in we were call'd upon, in a manner that could not be resisted, to revive the _provok'd wife_,[ ] a comedy which, while we found our account in keeping the stage clear of those loose liberties it had formerly too justly been charg'd with, we had laid aside for some years.[ ] the author, sir _john vanbrugh_, who was conscious of what it had too much of, was prevail'd upon[ ] to substitute a new-written scene in the place of one in the fourth act, where the wantonness of his wit and humour had (originally) made a rake[ ] talk like a rake in the borrow'd habit of a clergyman: to avoid which offence, he clapt the same debauchee into the undress of a woman of quality: now the character and profession of a fine lady not being so indelibly sacred as that of a churchman, whatever follies he expos'd in the petticoat kept him at least clear of his former prophaneness, and were now innocently ridiculous to the spectator. this play being thus refitted for the stage, was, as i have observ'd, call'd for from court and by many of the nobility.[ ] now, then, we thought, was a proper time to come to an explanation with _wilks_: accordingly, when the actors were summon'd to hear the play read and receive their parts, i address'd myself to _wilks_, before them all, and told him, that as the part of _constant_, which he seem'd to chuse, was a character of less action than he generally appear'd in, we thought this might be a good occasion to ease himself by giving it to another.--here he look'd grave.--that the love-scenes of it were rather serious than gay or humourous, and therefore might sit very well upon _booth_.----down dropt his brow, and furl'd were his features.--that if we were never to revive a tolerable play without him, what would become of us in case of his indisposition?----here he pretended to stir the fire.--that as he could have no farther advantage or advancement in his station to hope for, his acting in this play was but giving himself an unprofitable trouble, which neither _booth_ or i desired to impose upon him.--softly.--now the pill began to gripe him.----in a word, this provoking civility plung'd him into a passion which he was no longer able to contain; out it came, with all the equipage of unlimited language that on such occasions his displeasure usually set out with; but when his reply was stript of those ornaments, it was plainly this: that he look'd upon all i had said as a concerted design, not only to signalize our selves by laying him aside, but a contrivance to draw him into the disfavour of the nobility, by making it suppos'd his own choice that he did not act in a play so particularly ask'd for; but we should find he could stand upon his own bottom, and it was not all our little caballing should get our ends of him: to which i answer'd with some warmth, that he was mistaken in our ends; for those, sir, said i, you have answer'd already by shewing the company you cannot bear to be left out of any play. are not you every day complaining of your being over-labour'd? and now, upon our first offering to ease you, you fly into a passion, and pretend to make that a greater grievance than t'other: but, sir, if your being in or out of the play is a hardship, you shall impose it upon yourself: the part is in your hand, and to us it is a matter of indifference now whether you take it or leave it. upon this he threw down the part upon the table, cross'd his arms, and sate knocking his heel upon the floor, as seeming to threaten most when he said least; but when no body persuaded him to take it up again, _booth_, not chusing to push the matter too far, but rather to split the difference of our dispute, said, that, for his part, he saw no such great matter in acting every day; for he believed it the wholsomest exercise in the world; it kept the spirits in motion, and always gave him a good stomach. though this was, in a manner, giving up the part to _wilks_, yet it did not allow he did us any favour in receiving it. here i observ'd mrs. _oldfield_ began to titter behind her fan: but _wilks_ being more intent upon what _booth_ had said, reply'd, every one could best feel for himself, but he did not pretend to the strength of a pack-horse; therefore if mrs. _oldfield_ would chuse any body else to play with her,[ ] he should be very glad to be excus'd: this throwing the negative upon mrs. _oldfield_ was, indeed, a sure way to save himself; which i could not help taking notice of, by saying, it was making but an ill compliment to the company to suppose there was but one man in it fit to play an ordinary part with her. here mrs. _oldfield_ got up, and turning me half round to come forward, said with her usual frankness, pooh! you are all a parcel of fools, to make such a rout about nothing! rightly judging that the person most out of humour would not be more displeas'd at her calling us all by the same name. as she knew, too, the best way of ending the debate would be to help the weak; she said, she hop'd mr. _wilks_ would not so far mind what had past as to refuse his acting the part with her; for tho' it might not be so good as he had been us'd to, yet she believed those who had bespoke the play would expect to have it done to the best advantage, and it would make but an odd story abroad if it were known there had been any difficulty in that point among ourselves. to conclude, _wilks_ had the part, and we had all we wanted; which was an occasion to let him see, that the accident or choice of one menager's being more employ'd than another would never be allow'd a pretence for altering our indentures, or his having an extraordinary consideration for it.[ ] however disagreeable it might be to have this unsociable temper daily to deal with; yet i cannot but say, that from the same impatient spirit that had so often hurt us, we still drew valuable advantages: for as _wilks_ seem'd to have no joy in life beyond his being distinguish'd on the stage, we were not only sure of his always doing his best there himself, but of making others more careful than without the rod of so irascible a temper over them they would have been. and i much question if a more temperate or better usage of the hired actors could have so effectually kept them to order. not even _betterton_ (as we have seen) with all his good sense, his great fame and experience, could, by being only a quiet example of industry himself, save his company from falling, while neither gentleness could govern or the consideration of their common interest reform them.[ ] diligence, with much the inferior skill or capacity, will beat the best negligent company that ever came upon a stage. but when a certain dreaming idleness or jolly negligence of rehearsals gets into a body of the ignorant and incapable (which before _wilks_ came into _drury-lane_, when _powel_ was at the head of them, was the case of that company) then, i say, a sensible spectator might have look'd upon the fallen stage as _portius_ in the play of _cato_ does upon his ruin'd country, and have lamented it in (something near) the same exclamation, _viz._ _--o ye immortal bards! what havock do these blockheads make among your works! how are the boasted labours of an age defac'd and tortured by ungracious action?_[ ] of this wicked doings _dryden_, too, complains in one of his prologues at that time, where, speaking of such lewd actors, he closes a couplet with the following line, _viz._ _and murder plays, which they miscall reviving._[ ] the great share, therefore, that _wilks_, by his exemplary diligence and impatience of neglect in others, had in the reformation of this evil, ought in justice to be remember'd; and let my own vanity here take shame to itself when i confess, that had i had half his application, i still think i might have shewn myself twice the actor that in my highest state of favour i appear'd to be. but if i have any excuse for that neglect (a fault which, if i loved not truth, i need not have mentioned) it is that so much of my attention was taken up in an incessant labour to guard against our private animosities, and preserve a harmony in our menagement, that i hope and believe it made ample amends for whatever omission my auditors might sometimes know it cost me some pains to conceal. but nature takes care to bestow her blessings with a more equal hand than fortune does, and is seldom known to heap too many upon one man: one tolerable talent in an individual is enough to preserve him from being good for nothing; and, if that was not laid to my charge as an actor, i have in this light too, less to complain of than to be thankful for. before i conclude my history, it may be expected i should give some further view of these my last cotemporaries of the theatre, _wilks_ and _booth_, in their different acting capacities. if i were to paint them in the colours they laid upon one another, their talents would not be shewn with half the commendation i am inclined to bestow upon them, when they are left to my own opinion. but people of the same profession are apt to see themselves in their own clear glass of partiality, and look upon their equals through a mist of prejudice. it might be imagin'd, too, from the difference of their natural tempers, that _wilks_ should have been more blind to the excellencies of _booth_ than _booth_ was to those of _wilks_; but it was not so: _wilks_ would sometimes commend _booth_ to me; but when _wilks_ excell'd, the other was silent:[ ] _booth_ seem'd to think nothing valuable that was not tragically great or marvellous: let that be as true as it may; yet i have often thought that, from his having no taste of humour himself,[ ] he might be too much inclin'd to depreciate the acting of it in others. the very slight opinion which in private conversation with me he had of _wilks_'s acting sir _harry wildair_, was certainly more than could be justified; not only from the general applause that was against that opinion (tho' applause is not always infallible) but from the visible capacity which must be allow'd to an actor, that could carry such slight materials to such a height of approbation: for, though the character of _wildair_ scarce in any one scene will stand against a just criticism; yet in the whole there are so many gay and false colours of the fine gentleman, that nothing but a vivacity in the performance proportionably extravagant could have made them so happily glare upon a common audience. _wilks_, from his first setting out, certainly form'd his manner of acting upon the model of _monfort_;[ ] as _booth_ did his on that of _betterton_. but----_haud passibus æquis_: i cannot say either of them came up to their original. _wilks_ had not that easy regulated behaviour, or the harmonious elocution of the one, nor _booth_ that conscious aspect of intelligence nor requisite variation of voice that made every line the other spoke seem his own natural self-deliver'd sentiment: yet there is still room for great commendation of both the first mentioned; which will not be so much diminish'd in my having said they were only excell'd by such predecessors, as it will be rais'd in venturing to affirm it will be a longer time before any successors will come near them. thus one of the greatest praises given to _virgil_ is, that no successor in poetry came so near _him_ as _he_ himself did to _homer_. though the majority of publick auditors are but bad judges of theatrical action, and are often deceiv'd into their approbation of what has no solid pretence to it; yet, as there are no other appointed judges to appeal to, and as every single spectator has a right to be one of them, their sentence will be definitive, and the merit of an actor must, in some degree, be weigh'd by it: by this law, then, _wilks_ was pronounced an excellent actor; which, if the few true judges did not allow him to be, they were at least too candid to slight or discourage him. _booth_ and he were actors so directly opposite in their manner, that if either of them could have borrowed a little of the other's fault, they would both have been improv'd by it: if _wilks_ had sometimes too violent a vivacity; _booth_ as often contented himself with too grave a dignity: the latter seem'd too much to heave up his words, as the other to dart them to the ear with too quick and sharp a vehemence: thus _wilks_ would too frequently break into the time and measure of the harmony by too many spirited accents in one line; and _booth_, by too solemn a regard to harmony, would as often lose the necessary spirit of it: so that (as i have observ'd) could we have sometimes rais'd the one and sunk the other, they had both been nearer to the mark. yet this could not be always objected to them: they had their intervals of unexceptionable excellence, that more than balanc'd their errors. the master-piece of _booth_ was _othello_: there he was most in character, and seemed not more to animate or please himself in it than his spectators. 'tis true he owed his last and highest advancement to his acting _cato_: but it was the novelty and critical appearance of that character that chiefly swell'd the torrent of his applause: for let the sentiments of a declaiming patriot have all the sublimity that poetry can raise them to; let them be deliver'd, too, with the utmost grace and dignity of elocution that can recommend them to the auditor: yet this is but one light wherein the excellence of an actor can shine: but in _othello_ we may see him in the variety of nature: there the actor is carried through the different accidents of domestick happiness and misery, occasionally torn and tortur'd by the most distracting passion that can raise terror or compassion in the spectator. such are the characters that a master actor would delight in; and therefore in _othello_ i may safely aver that _booth_ shew'd himself thrice the actor that he could in _cato_. and yet his merit in acting _cato_ need not be diminish'd by this comparison. _wilks_ often regretted that in tragedy he had not the full and strong voice of _booth_ to command and grace his periods with: but _booth_ us'd to say, that if his ear had been equal to it, _wilks_ had voice enough to have shewn himself a much better tragedian. now, though there might be some truth in this; yet these two actors were of so mixt a merit, that even in tragedy the superiority was not always on the same side: in sorrow, tenderness, or resignation, _wilks_ plainly had the advantage, and seem'd more pathetically to feel, look, and express his calamity: but in the more turbulent transports of the heart, _booth_ again bore the palm, and left all competitors behind him. a fact perhaps will set this difference in a clearer light. i have formerly seen _wilks_ act _othello_,[ ] and _booth_ the _earl of essex_,[ ] in which they both miscarried: neither the exclamatory rage or jealousy of the one, or the plaintive distresses of the other, were happily executed, or became either of them; though in the contrary characters they were both excellent. when an actor becomes and naturally looks the character he stands in, i have often observ'd it to have had as fortunate an effect, and as much recommended him to the approbation of the common auditors, as the most correct or judicious utterance of the sentiments: this was strongly visible in the favourable reception _wilks_ met with in _hamlet_, where i own the half of what he spoke was as painful to my ear as every line that came from _betterton_ was charming;[ ] and yet it is not impossible, could they have come to a poll, but _wilks_ might have had a majority of admirers: however, such a division had been no proof that the præeminence had not still remain'd in _betterton_; and if i should add that _booth_, too, was behind _betterton_ in _othello_, it would be saying no more than _booth_ himself had judgment and candour enough to know and confess. and if both he and _wilks_ are allow'd, in the two above-mention'd characters, a second place to so great a master as _betterton_, it will be a rank of praise that the best actors since my time might have been proud of. i am now come towards the end of that time through which our affairs had long gone forward in a settled course of prosperity. from the visible errors of former menagements we had at last found the necessary means to bring our private laws and orders into the general observance and approbation of our society: diligence and neglect were under an equal eye; the one never fail'd of its reward, and the other, by being very rarely excus'd, was less frequently committed. you are now to consider us in our height of favour, and so much in fashion with the politer part of the town, that our house every _saturday_ seem'd to be the appointed assembly of the first ladies of quality: of this, too, the common spectators were so well appriz'd, that for twenty years successively, on that day, we scarce ever fail'd of a crowded audience; for which occasion we particularly reserv'd our best plays, acted in the best manner we could give them.[ ] among our many necessary reformations; what not a little preserv'd to us the regard of our auditors, was the decency of our clear stage;[ ] from whence we had now, for many years, shut out those idle gentlemen, who seem'd more delighted to be pretty objects themselves, than capable of any pleasure from the play: who took their daily stands where they might best elbow the actor, and come in for their share of the auditor's attention. in many a labour'd scene of the warmest humour and of the most affecting passion have i seen the best actors disconcerted, while these buzzing muscatos have been fluttering round their eyes and ears. how was it possible an actor, so embarrass'd, should keep his impatience from entering into that different temper which his personated character might require him to be master of? future actors may perhaps wish i would set this grievance in a stronger light; and, to say the truth, where auditors are ill-bred, it cannot well be expected that actors should be polite. let me therefore shew how far an artist in any science is apt to be hurt by any sort of inattention to his performance. while the famous _corelli_,[ ] at _rome_, was playing some musical composition of his own to a select company in the private apartment of his patron-cardinal, he observed, in the height of his harmony, his eminence was engaging in a detach'd conversation; upon which he suddenly stopt short, and gently laid down his instrument: the cardinal, surpriz'd at the unexpected cessation, ask'd him if a string was broke? to which _corelli_, in an honest conscience of what was due to his musick, reply'd, no, sir, i was only afraid i interrupted business. his eminence, who knew that a genius could never shew itself to advantage where it had not its proper regards, took this reproof in good part, and broke off his conversation to hear the whole _concerto_ play'd over again. another story will let us see what effect a mistaken offence of this kind had upon the _french_ theatre; which was told me by a gentleman of the long robe, then at _paris_, and who was himself the innocent author of it. at the tragedy of _zaire_, while the celebrated mademoiselle _gossin_[ ] was delivering a soliloquy, this gentleman was seiz'd with a sudden fit of coughing, which gave the actress some surprize and interruption; and his fit increasing, she was forced to stand silent so long, that it drew the eyes of the uneasy audience upon him; when a _french_ gentleman, leaning forward to him, ask'd him, if this actress had given him any particular offence, that he took so publick an occasion to resent it? the _english_ gentleman, in the utmost surprize, assured him, so far from it, that he was a particular admirer of her performance; that his malady was his real misfortune, and if he apprehended any return of it, he would rather quit his seat than disoblige either the actress or the audience. this publick decency in their theatre i have myself seen carried so far, that a gentleman in their _second loge_, or middle-gallery, being observ'd to sit forward himself while a lady sate behind him, a loud number of voices call'd out to him from the pit, _place à la dame!_ _place à la dame!_ when the person so offending, either not apprehending the meaning of the clamour, or possibly being some _john trott_ who fear'd no man alive; the noise was continued for several minutes; nor were the actors, though ready on the stage, suffer'd to begin the play 'till this unbred person was laugh'd out of his seat, and had placed the lady before him. whether this politeness observ'd at plays may be owing to their clime, their complexion, or their government, is of no great consequence; but if it is to be acquired, methinks it is pity our accomplish'd countrymen, who every year import so much of this nation's gawdy garniture, should not, in this long course of our commerce with them, have brought over a little of their theatrical good-breeding too. i have been the more copious upon this head, that it might be judg'd how much it stood us upon to have got rid of those improper spectators i have been speaking of: for whatever regard we might draw by keeping them at a distance from our stage, i had observed, while they were admitted behind our scenes, we but too often shew'd them the wrong side of our tapestry; and that many a tolerable actor was the less valued when it was known what ordinary stuff he was made of. among the many more disagreeable distresses that are almost unavoidable in the government of a theatre, those we so often met with from the persecution of bad authors were what we could never intirely get rid of. but let us state both our cases, and then see where the justice of the complaint lies. 'tis true, when an ingenious indigent had taken perhaps a whole summer's pains, _invitâ minervâ_, to heap up a pile of poetry into the likeness of a play, and found, at last, the gay promise of his winter's support was rejected and abortive, a man almost ought to be a poet himself to be justly sensible of his distress! then, indeed, great allowances ought to be made for the severe reflections he might naturally throw upon those pragmatical actors, who had no sense or taste of good writing. and yet, if his relief was only to be had by his imposing a bad play upon a good set of actors, methinks the charity that first looks at home has as good an excuse for its coldness as the unhappy object of it had a plea for his being reliev'd at their expence. but immediate want was not always confess'd their motive for writing; fame, honour, and _parnassian_ glory had sometimes taken a romantick turn in their heads; and then they gave themselves the air of talking to us in a higher strain--gentlemen were not to be so treated! the stage was like to be finely govern'd when actors pretended to be judges of authors, &_c._ but, dear gentlemen! if they were good actors, why not? how should they have been able to act, or rise to any excellence, if you supposed them not to feel or understand what you offer'd them? would you have reduc'd them to the meer mimickry of parrots and monkies, that can only prate, and play a great many pretty tricks, without reflection? or how are you sure your friend, the infallible judge to whom you read your fine piece, might be sincere in the praises he gave it? or, indeed, might not you have thought the best judge a bad one if he had disliked it? consider, too, how possible it might be that a man of sense would not care to tell you a truth he was sure you would not believe! and if neither _dryden_, _congreve_, _steele_, _addison_, nor _farquhar_, (if you please) ever made any complaint of their incapacity to judge, why is the world to believe the slights you have met with from them are either undeserved or particular? indeed! indeed, i am not conscious that we ever did you or any of your fraternity the least injustice![ ] yet this was not all we had to struggle with; to supersede our right of rejecting, the recommendation, or rather imposition, of some great persons (whom it was not prudence to disoblige) sometimes came in with a high hand to support their pretensions; and then, _cout que cout_, acted it must be! so when the short life of this wonderful nothing was over, the actors were perhaps abus'd in a preface for obstructing the success of it, and the town publickly damn'd us for our private civility.[ ] i cannot part with these fine gentlemen authors without mentioning a ridiculous _disgraccia_ that befel one of them many years ago: this solemn bard, who, like _bays_, only writ for fame and reputation; on the second day's publick triumph of his muse, marching in a stately full-bottom'd perriwig into the lobby of the house, with a lady of condition in his hand, when raising his voice to the sir _fopling_ sound, that _became the mouth of a man of quality_, and calling out--hey! box-keeper, where is my lady such-a-one's servant, was unfortunately answer'd by honest _john trott_, (which then happen'd to be the box-keeper's real name) sir, we have dismiss'd, there was not company enough to pay candles. in which mortal astonishment it may be sufficient to leave him. and yet had the actors refus'd this play, what resentment might have been thought too severe for them? thus was our administration often censured for accidents which were not in our power to prevent: a possible case in the wisest governments. if, therefore, some plays have been preferr'd to the stage that were never fit to have been seen there, let this be our best excuse for it. and yet, if the merit of our rejecting the many bad plays that press'd hard upon us were weigh'd against the few that were thus imposed upon us, our conduct in general might have more amendments of the stage to boast of than errors to answer for. but it is now time to drop the curtain. during our four last years there happen'd so very little unlike what has been said before, that i shall conclude with barely mentioning those unavoidable accidents that drew on our dissolution. the first, that for some years had led the way to greater, was the continued ill state of health that render'd _booth_[ ] incapable of appearing on the stage. the next was the death of mrs. _oldfield_,[ ] which happen'd on the d of _october_, . about the same time, too, mrs. _porter_, then in her highest reputation for tragedy, was lost to us by the misfortune of a dislocated limb from the overturning of a _chaise_.[ ] and our last stroke was the death of _wilks_, in _september_ the year following, .[ ] [illustration: charles fleetwood.] notwithstanding such irreparable losses; whether, when these favourite actors were no more to be had, their successors might not be better born with than they could possibly have hop'd while the former were in being; or that the generality of spectators, from their want of taste, were easier to be pleas'd than the few that knew better: or that, at worst, our actors were still preferable to any other company of the several then subsisting: or to whatever cause it might be imputed, our audiences were far less abated than our apprehensions had suggested. so that, though it began to grow late in life with me; having still health and strength enough to have been as useful on the stage as ever, i was under no visible necessity of quitting it: but so it happen'd that our surviving fraternity having got some chimærical, and, as i thought, unjust notions into their heads, which, though i knew they were without much difficulty to be surmounted; i chose not, at my time of day, to enter into new contentions; and as i found an inclination in some of them to purchase the whole power of the patent into their own hands; i did my best while i staid with them to make it worth their while to come up to my price; and then patiently sold out my share to the first bidder, wishing the crew i had left in the vessel a good voyage.[ ] what commotions the stage fell into the year following, or from what provocations the greatest part of the actors revolted, and set up for themselves in the little house in the _hay-market_, lies not within the promise of my title page to relate: or, as it might set some persons living in a light they possibly might not chuse to be seen in, i will rather be thankful for the involuntary favour they have done me, than trouble the publick with private complaints of fancied or real injuries. _finis_. supplementary chapter. by robert w. lowe. [illustration: ad lalauze, sc] the transaction to which cibber alludes in his last paragraph is one with regard to which he probably felt that his conduct required some explanation. after the death of steele, a patent was granted to cibber, wilks, and booth, empowering them to give plays at drury lane, or elsewhere, for a period of twenty-one years from st september, .[ ] just after it came into operation wilks died, and his share in the patent became the property of his wife. booth, shortly before his death, which occurred in may, , sold half of his share for £ , , to john highmore, a gentleman who seems to have been a typical amateur manager, being possessed of some money, no judgment, and unbounded vanity. in making this purchase highmore stipulated that, with half of booth's share, he should receive the whole of his authority; and he accordingly exercised the same power of control as had belonged to booth. mrs. wilks deputed mr. john ellys, the painter, to be her representative, so that cibber had to manage the affairs of the theatre in conjunction with a couple of amateurs, both ignorant, and one certainly presumptuous also. he delegated his authority for a time to his scapegrace son, theophilus, who probably made himself so objectionable that highmore was glad to buy the father's share in the patent also.[ ] he paid three thousand guineas for it, thus purchasing a whole share for a sum not much exceeding that which he had paid for one-half. highmore's first purchase took place in the autumn of , his second somewhere about may, ; so that, when drury lane opened for the season - , he possessed one-half of the three shares into which the patent was divided. mrs. wilks retained her share, but mrs. booth had sold her remaining half-share to henry giffard,[ ] the manager of goodman's fields theatre, at which, eight years later, garrick made his first appearance. highmore had scarcely entered upon his fuller authority when a revolt was spirited up among his actors, the chief of whom left him in a body to open the little theatre in the haymarket. shameful to relate, the ringleader in this mutiny was theophilus cibber; and, what is still more disgraceful, colley cibber lent them his active countenance. benjamin victor, though a devoted friend of colley cibber, characterizes the transaction as most dishonest,[ ] and there is no reason to doubt the accuracy of his information or the soundness of his judgment. davies ("life of garrick," i. ) states that colley cibber applied to the duke of grafton, then lord chamberlain, for a new license or patent in favour of his son; but the duke, on inquiring into the matter, was so disgusted at cibber's conduct that he refused the application with strong expressions of disapprobation. the seceders had of course no patent or license under which to act; but, from the circumstance that they took the name of comedians of his majesty's revels, it is probable that they received a license from the master of the revels, charles henry lee. highmore, deserted by every actor of any importance except miss raftor (mrs. clive), mrs. horton, and bridgwater, was at his wits' end. he summoned the seceders for an infringement of his patent, but his case, tried on th november, , was dismissed, apparently on some technical plea. he could not prevail upon the lord chamberlain to exert his authority to close the haymarket, so he determined to try the efficacy of the vagrant act ( queen anne) against the irregular performers. john harper accordingly was arrested on th november, , and committed to bridewell. on the th of the same month he was tried before the court of king's bench as a rogue and vagabond; but, whether from the circumstance that harper was a householder, or from a decision that playing at the haymarket was not an act of vagrancy,[ ] he was discharged upon his own recognizance, and the manager's action failed. he had therefore to bring actors from the country to make up his company; but of these macklin was the only one who proved of any assistance, and the unfortunate highmore, after meeting deficiencies of fifty or sixty pounds each week for some months, was forced to give up the struggle.[ ] another amateur then stepped into the breach--charles fleetwood, who purchased the shares of highmore and mrs. wilks for little more than the former had paid for his own portion. giffard seems to have retained his sixth of the patent. fleetwood first set about regaining the services of the seceders, and, as the majority of them were probably ashamed of following the leadership of theophilus cibber, he succeeded at once. the last performance at the haymarket took place on th march, , and on the th the deserters reappeared on drury lane stage. this transaction ended colley cibber's direct interference in the affairs of the theatre, and his only subsequent connection with the stage was as an actor. his first appearance after his retirement was on st october, , when he played his great character of bayes. during the season he acted lord foppington, sir john brute, sir courtly nice, and sir fopling flutter; and on th february, , he appeared as fondlewife for the benefit of his old friend and partner, owen swiney.[ ] at the end of the season - , an arrangement was under consideration by which a committee of actors, including mills, johnson, miller, theo. cibber, mrs. heron, mrs. butler, and others, were to rent drury lane from fleetwood, for fifteen years, at £ per annum; but the arrangement does not appear to have been carried out, and fleetwood continued patentee of drury lane until - . the rival company, under the control of john rich, acted at lincoln's inn fields from th december, , to th december, ; then they removed to the new covent garden theatre, which was opened on th december with "the way of the world." for several seasons both companies dragged along very uneventfully, so far as the artistic advancement of the stage was concerned, although the passing of the licensing act of , already fully commented on, was an event of great historical importance. artistically the period was one of rest, if not of retrogression; the methods of the older time were losing their meaning and vitality, and were becoming mere dry bones of tradition. the high priest of the stage was james quin, a great actor, though not of the first order; and among the younger players perhaps the most notable was charles macklin, rough in manner as in person, but full of genius and a thorough reformer. garrick was the direct means of revolutionizing the methods of the theatre, and it was his genius that swept away the formality and dulness of the old school; but it ought to be remembered that the way was prepared for him by charles macklin, whose rescue of shylock from low comedy was an achievement scarcely inferior to garrick's greatest. during this dull period cibber's appearances must have had an importance and interest, which, after garrick's advent, they lacked. in the season - he acted sir courtly nice and bayes, and in the next season his play of "papal tyranny in the reign of king john," a miserable mutilation of shakespeare's "king john," was put in rehearsal at drury lane. but such a storm of ridicule and abuse arose when this play was announced, that cibber withdrew it,[ ] and it was not seen till , when, the nation being in fear of a popish pretender, it was produced at covent garden from patriotic motives. cibber's implacable foe, fielding, was one of the ringleaders in the attack on him for mutilating shakespeare; and in his "historical register for ,"[ ] in which colley is introduced as "ground-ivy,"[ ] gives him the following excellent rebuke:-- "_medley._ as _shakspear_ is already good enough for people of taste, he must be alter'd to the palates of those who have none; and if you will grant that, who can be properer to alter him for the worse?" in , having, as victor says ("history," ii. ), "health and strength enough to be as useful as ever," he agreed with fleetwood to perform a round of his favourite characters. he was successful in comedy, but in tragedy he felt that his strength was no longer sufficient; and victor relates that, going behind the scenes while the third act of "richard iii." was on, he was told in a whisper by the old man, "that he would give fifty guineas to be then sitting in his easy chair by his own fire-side." probably he never played in tragedy again until the production of his own "papal tyranny"--at least i cannot discover that he did. in - he acted fondlewife for the benefit of chetwood, late prompter at drury lane, who was then imprisoned in the king's bench for debt; and his reception was so favourable that he repeated the character a second and third time for his own profit.[ ] upon these occasions he spoke an "epilogue upon himself," which is given in "the egotist" (p. _et seq._), and forms so good an epitome of cibber's philosophy, besides giving an excellent specimen of his style, that i quote it at length:-- "now worn with years, and yet in folly strong, now to act parts, your grandsires saw when young! what could provoke me!--i was always wrong. to hope, with age, i could advance in merit! even age well acted, asks a youthful spirit: to feel my wants, yet shew 'em thus detected, is living to the dotage, i have acted! t' have acted only once excus'd might be, when i but play'd the fool for charity! but fondly to repeat it!--senseless ninny! --no--now--as doctors do--i touch the guinea! and while i find my doses can affect you, 'twere greater folly still, should i neglect you. though this excuse, at _white'_s they'll not allow me; the ralliers there, in diff'rent lights will shew me. they'll tell you there: i only act--sly rogue! to play with _cocky_![ ]--o! the doting dog! and howsoe'er an audience might regard me, one--_tiss ye nykin_,[ ] amply might reward me! let them enjoy the jest, with laugh incessant! for true, or false, or right, or wrong, 'tis pleasant! mixt, in the wisest heads, we find some folly; yet i find few such happy fools--as _colley_! so long t'have liv'd the daily satire's stroke, } unmov'd by blows, that might have fell'd an oak, } and yet have laugh'd the labour'd libel to a joke. } suppose such want of feeling prove me dull! what's my aggressor then--a peevish fool! the strongest satire's on a blockhead lost; for none but fools or madmen strike a post. if for my folly's larger list you call, my life has lump'd 'em! there you'll read 'em all. there you'll find vanity, wild hopes pursuing; a wide attempt: to save the stage from ruin! there i confess, i have _out-done_ my _own out-doing_![ ] as for what's left of life, if still 'twill do; 'tis at your service, pleas'd while pleasing you: but then, mistake me not! when you've enough; one slender house declares both parties off: or truth in homely proverb to advance, i pipe no longer than you care to dance." the representative of lætitia (or _cocky_) alluded to in this epilogue was mrs. woffington, with whom stage-history has identified the "susannah" of the following well-known anecdote, which i quote from an attack upon cibber, published in , entitled "a blast upon _bays_; or, a new lick at the laureat." the author writes: "no longer ago than when the _bedford coffee house_ was in vogue, and mr. _cibber_ was writing _an apology for his own life_, there was one mr. s---- (the importer of an expensive _haymarket_ comedy) an old acquaintance of mr. _cibber_, who, as well as he, retain'd a smack of his antient taste. in those days there was also a fair smirking damsel, whose name was _susannah-maria_ * * *, who happen'd to have charms sufficient to revive the decay'd vigour of these two friends. they equally pursued her, even to the _hazard of their health_, and were frequently seen dangling after her, with tottering knees, at one and the same time. you have heard, sir, what a witty friend of your own said once on this occasion: _lo! yonder goes_ susannah _and the two elders._" even genest has applied this anecdote to mrs. woffington, but the only circumstance that lends confirmation to this view is the fact that swiney (who is mr. s----) left her his estate. against this must be set the important points that susannah maria was not mrs. woffington's name, and that the joke depended for its neatness and applicability on the name susannah. the narrator of the story, also, gives no hint that the damsel was the famous actress, as he certainly would have done; and, most important of all, it must be pointed out that at the period mentioned, that is, while cibber was writing his "apology," mrs. woffington had not appeared in london. the "apology" was published in april, , and had probably been completed in the preceding november; while mrs. woffington made her london _débût_ on th november, .[ ] during the season - , "at the particular desire of several persons of quality," cibber made a few appearances at covent garden; the purpose being, in all probability, to oppose the extraordinary attraction of garrick at goodman's fields. in - he played at the same theatre as garrick, being engaged at drury lane for a round of his famous characters; but there is no record that garrick and he appeared in the same play. for the new actor cibber had, naturally enough, no great admiration. he must have resented deeply the alteration in the method of acting tragedy which garrick introduced, and is always reported as having lost no opportunity of expressing his low opinion of the new school.[ ] his last appearances on the stage were in direct rivalry with his young opponent. as has been related, cibber's alteration of "king john," which had been "burked" in - , was produced, from patriotic motives, in . as the principal purpose of the alteration was to make king john resent the insolence of the pope's nuncio in a much more emphatic manner than he does in shakespeare, it may easily be imagined how wretched a production cibber's play is. genest's criticism is not too strong when he says (iv. ): "in a word, cibber has on this occasion shown himself utterly void of taste, judgment and modesty--well might fielding call him ground-ivy, and say that no man was better calculated to alter shakspeare for the worse ... in the epilogue (which was spoken by mrs. clive) cibber speaks of himself with modesty, but in the dedication, being emboldened by the favourable reception of his tragedy, he has the insolence to say '_i have endeavoured to make it more like a play than i found it in shakspeare._'" "papal tyranny" was produced at covent garden on th february, ,[ ] and, in opposition to it, shakespeare's play was put up at drury lane, with garrick as king john, macklin as pandulph, and mrs. cibber (the great mrs. cibber, wife of theophilus) as constance. cibber's play was, nevertheless, successful; the profit resulting to the author being, according to victor, four hundred pounds, which he wisely laid out in a profitable annuity with lord mountford. in this play cibber made his last appearance on the stage, on th february, , on which day "papal tyranny" was played for the tenth time. "after which," says victor ("history," ii. ) "he retired to his easy chair and his chariot, to waste the remains of life with a chearful, contented mind, without the least bodily complaint, but that of a slow, unavoidable decay." his state of mind was probably the more "chearful and contented" because of his unquestionable success in his tilt with the formidable author of "the dunciad;" a success none the less certain at the time, that the enduring fame of pope has caused cibber's triumph over him to be lost sight of now. the progress of the quarrel between these enemies has already been related up to the publication of cibber's "apology" (see vol. i. p. ), and on pages , , and of the first volume of this edition will be found cibber's perfectly good-natured and proper remarks on pope's attacks on him. whether the very fact that cibber did not show temper irritated his opponent, i do not know; but it probably did so, for in the fourth book of "the dunciad," published in , pope had another fling at his opponent (line ):-- "she mounts the throne: her head a cloud conceal'd, in broad effulgence all below reveal'd; ('tis thus aspiring dulness ever shines:) soft on her lap her laureate son reclines." and in line he talks of "cibberian forehead" as typical of unblushing impudence. it is not surprising that this last attack exhausted cibber's patience. he had hitherto received his punishment with good temper and good humour; but his powerful enemy had not therefore held his hand. he now determined to retaliate. conscious of the diseased susceptibility of pope to ridicule, he felt himself quite capable of replying, not with equal literary power, but with much superior practical effect. accordingly in there appeared a pamphlet entitled "a letter from mr. cibber, to mr. pope, inquiring into the motives that might induce him in his satyrical works, to be so frequently fond of mr. cibber's name." to it was prefixed the motto: "_out of thy own mouth will i judge thee._ pref. to the _dunciad_." cibber commences by stating that he had been persuaded to reply to pope by his friends; who insisted that for him to treat his attacker any longer with silent disdain might be thought a confession of dulness indeed. this is a highly probable statement; for an encounter between the vivacious cibber and the thin-skinned pope promised a wealth of amusement for those who looked on--a promise which was amply fulfilled. cibber proceeds to assure pope that, having entered the lists, he will not in future avoid the fray, but reply to every attack made on him.[ ] he confesses his vast inferiority to pope, but adds: "i own myself so contented a dunce, that i would not have even your merited fame in poetry, if it were to be attended with half the fretful solicitude you seem to have lain under to maintain it; of which the laborious rout you make about it, in those loads of prose rubbish, wherewith you have almost smother'd your _dunciad_, is so sore a proof." on page of his "letter" cibber gives an interesting account of a quarrel between pope and himself, to which he, with sufficient probability, attributes much of pope's enmity. the passage is curious and important, so i quote it in full:-- [illustration: alexander pope.] "the play of the _rehearsal_, which had lain some few years dormant, being by his present majesty (then prince of _wales_) commanded to be revived, the part of _bays_ fell to my share. to this character there had always been allow'd such ludicrous liberties of observation, upon any thing new, or remarkable, in the state of the stage, as mr. _bays_ might think proper to take. much about this time, then, _the three hours after marriage_ had been acted without success;[ ] when mr. _bays_, as usual, had a fling at it, which, in itself, was no jest, unless the audience would please to make it one: but however, flat as it was, mr. _pope_ was mortally sore upon it. this was the offence. in this play, two coxcombs, being in love with a learned virtuoso's wife, to get unsuspected access to her, ingeniously send themselves, as two presented rarities, to the husband, the one curiously swath'd up like an _egyptian_ mummy, and the other slily cover'd in the pasteboard skin of a crocodile: upon which poetical expedient, i, mr. _bays_, when the two kings of _brentford_ came from the clouds into the throne again, instead of what my part directed me to say, made use of these words, viz. 'now, sir, this revolution, i had some thoughts of introducing, by a quite different contrivance; but my design taking air, some of your sharp wits, i found, had made use of it before me; otherwise i intended to have stolen one of them in, in the shape of a _mummy_, and t'other, in that of a _crocodile_.' upon which, i doubt, the audience by the roar of their applause shew'd their proportionable contempt of the play they belong'd to. but why am i answerable for that? i did not lead them, by any reflection of my own, into that contempt: surely to have used the bare word _mummy_, and _crocodile_, was neither unjust, or unmannerly; where then was the crime of simply saying there had been two such things in a former play? but this, it seems, was so heinously taken by mr. _pope_, that, in the swelling of his heart, after the play was over, he came behind the scenes, with his lips pale and his voice trembling, to call me to account for the insult: and accordingly fell upon me with all the foul language, that a wit out of his senses could be capable of----how durst i have the impudence to treat any gentleman in that manner? _&c. &c. &c._ now let the reader judge by this concern, who was the true mother of the child! when he was almost choked with the foam of his passion, i was enough recover'd from my amazement to make him (as near as i can remember) this reply, _viz._ 'mr. _pope_----you are so particular a man, that i must be asham'd to return your language as i ought to do: but since you have attacked me in so monstrous a manner; this you may depend upon, that so long as the play continues to be acted, i will never fail to repeat the same words over and over again.' now, as he accordingly found i kept my word, for several days following, i am afraid he has since thought, that his pen was a sharper weapon than his tongue to trust his revenge with. and however just cause this may be for his so doing, it is, at least, the only cause my conscience can charge me with. now, as i might have concealed this fact if my conscience would have suffered me, may we not suppose, mr. _pope_ would certainly have mention'd it in his _dunciad_, had he thought it could have been of service to him?" cibber afterwards proceeds to criticise and reply to allusions to himself in pope's works, some of which are in conspicuously bad taste. cibber, of course, does not miss the obvious point that to attack his successful plays was a foolish proceeding on pope's part, whose own endeavours as a dramatist had been completely unsuccessful, and who thus laid himself open to the charge of envy. nor is this accusation so ridiculous as it may seem to readers of to-day, for a successful playwright was a notable public figure, and the delicious applause of the crowded theatre was eagerly sought by even the most eminent men. and again, it must be remembered that pope's fame was not then the perfectly assured matter that it is now. but cibber's great point, which made his opponent writhe with fury, was a little anecdote--dr. johnson terms it "an idle story of pope's behaviour at a tavern"--which raised a universal shout of merriment at pope's expense. the excuse for its introduction was found in these lines from the "epistle to dr. arbuthnot":-- "whom have i hurt? has poet yet or peer lost the arch'd eyebrow or parnassian sneer? and has not colley still his lord and whore? his butchers henley? his freemasons moore?" cibber's anecdote cannot be defended on the ground of decency, but it is extremely ludicrous, and in the state of society then existing it must have been a knock-down blow to the unhappy subject of it. there can be little doubt that it was this pamphlet which pope received on the occasion when the richardsons visited him, as related by johnson in his life of the poet: "i have heard mr. richardson relate that he attended his father the painter on a visit, when one of cibber's pamphlets came into the hands of pope, who said, 'these things are my diversion.' they sat by him while he perused it, and saw his features writhing with anguish: and young richardson said to his father, when they returned, that he hoped to be preserved from such diversion as had been that day the lot of pope." how deeply pope was galled by cibber's ludicrous picture of him is manifested by the extraordinary revenge he took. and even now we can realize the bitterness of the provocation when we read the maliciously comic story of the vivacious colley:-- "as to the first part of the charge, the _lord_; why--we have both had him, and sometimes the _same_ lord; but as there is neither vice nor folly in keeping our betters company; the wit or satyr of the verse! can only point at my lord for keeping such _ordinary_ company. well, but if so! then _why_ so, good mr. _pope_? if either of us could be _good_ company, our being professed poets, i hope would be no objection to my lord's sometimes making one with us? and though i don't pretend to write like you, yet all the requisites to make a good companion are not confined to poetry! no, sir, even a man's inoffensive follies and blunders may sometimes have their merits at the best table; and in those, i am sure, you won't pretend to vie with me: why then may not my lord be as much in the right, in his sometimes choosing _colley_ to laugh at, as at other times in his picking up _sawney_, whom he can only admire? "thus far, then, i hope we are upon a par; for the lord, you see, will fit either of us. "as to the latter charge, the _whore_, there indeed, i doubt you will have the better of me; for i must own, that i believe i know more of _your_ whoring than you do of _mine_; because i don't recollect that ever i made you the least confidence of _my_ amours, though i have been very near an eye-witness of _yours_----by the way, gentle reader, don't you think, to say only, _a man has his whore_, without some particular circumstances to aggravate the vice, is the flattest piece of satyr that ever fell from the formidable pen of mr. _pope_? because (_defendit numerus_) take the first ten thousand men you meet, and i believe, you would be no loser, if you betted ten to one that every single sinner of them, one with another, had been guilty of the same frailty. but as mr. _pope_ has so particularly picked me out of the number to make an example of: why may i not take the same liberty, and even single him out for another to keep me in countenance? he must excuse me, then, if in what i am going to relate, i am reduced to make bold with a little private conversation: but as he has shewn no mercy to _colley_, why should so unprovok'd an aggressor expect any for himself? and if truth hurts him, i can't help it. he may remember, then (or if he won't i will) when _button_'s coffee-house was in vogue, and so long ago, as when he had not translated above two or three books of _homer_; there was a late young nobleman (as much his _lord_ as mine) who had a good deal of wicked humour, and who, though he was fond of having wits in his company, was not so restrained by his conscience, but that he lov'd to laugh at any merry mischief he could do them: this noble wag, i say, in his usual _gayetè de coeur_, with another gentleman still in being,[ ] one evening slily seduced the celebrated mr. _pope_ as a wit, and myself as a laugher, to a certain house of carnal recreation, near the _hay-market_; where his lordship's frolick propos'd was to slip his little _homer_, as he call'd him, at a girl of the game, that he might see what sort of figure a man of his size, sobriety, and vigour (in verse) would make, when the frail fit of love had got into him; in which he so far succeeded, that the smirking damsel, who serv'd us with tea, happen'd to have charms sufficient to tempt the little-tiny manhood of mr. _pope_ into the next room with her: at which you may imagine, his lordship was in as much joy, at what might happen within, as our small friend could probably be in possession of it: but i (forgive me all ye mortified mortals whom his fell satyr has since fallen upon) observing he had staid as long as without hazard of his health he might, i, _prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,_ as _shakespear_ says, without ceremony, threw open the door upon him, where i found this little hasty hero, like a terrible _tom tit_, pertly perching upon the mount of love! but such was my surprize, that i fairly laid hold of his heels, and actually drew him down safe and sound from his danger. my lord, who staid tittering without, in hopes the sweet mischief he came for would have been compleated, upon my giving an account of the action within, began to curse, and call me an hundred silly puppies, for my impertinently spoiling the sport; to which with great gravity i reply'd; pray, my lord, consider what i have done was, in regard to the honour of our nation! for would you have had so glorious a work as that of making _homer_ speak elegant _english_, cut short by laying up our little gentleman of a malady, which his thin body might never have been cured of? no, my lord! _homer_ would have been too serious a sacrifice to our evening merriment. now as his _homer_ has since been so happily compleated, who can say, that the world may not have been obliged to the kindly care of _colley_ that so great a work ever came to perfection? "and now again, gentle reader, let it be judged, whether the _lord_ and the _whore_ above-mentioned might not, with equal justice, have been apply'd to sober _sawney_ the satyrist, as to _colley_ the criminal? "though i confess recrimination to be but a poor defence for one's own faults; yet when the guilty are accusers, it seems but just, to make use of any truth, that may invalidate their evidence: i therefore hope, whatever the serious reader may think amiss in this story, will be excused, by my being so hardly driven to tell it." in the remainder of cibber's pamphlet there is not much that is of any importance, though an allusion to one of pope's victims having hung up a birch in button's coffee house, wherewith to chastise his satirist, was skilfully calculated to rouse pope's temper. cibber thoroughly succeeded in this object,[ ] perhaps to a degree that he rather regretted. pope made no direct reply to his banter, but in the following year ( ) a new edition of "the dunciad" appeared, in which theobald was deposed from the throne of dulness, and cibber elevated in his place. by doing this pope gratified his vengeance, but injured his poem, for the carefully painted peculiarities of theobald, a slow and pedantic scholar, sat ill on the pert and vivacious colley.[ ] to this retaliation cibber, as he had promised,[ ] replied with another pamphlet, entitled "another occasional letter from mr. cibber to mr. pope. wherein the new hero's preferment to his throne, in the _dunciad_, seems not to be accepted. and the author of that poem his more rightful claim to it, is asserted. with an expostulatory address to the reverend mr. _w. w----n_, author of the new preface, and adviser in the curious improvements of that satire." the motto on the title-page was:-- "----_remember_ sauney's _fate!_ _bang'd by the blockhead, whom he strove to beat._ parodie on lord _roscommon_." there is little that is of any note in this production, which is characterized by the same real or affected good-nature as marked the former pamphlet. the most interesting passages to us are those alluding to the effect of cibber's previous attack, and exulting over pope's distress at it. for instance (on page ):-- "and now, sir, give me leave to be a little surpriz'd at the impenetrable skull of your courage, that (after i had in my first letter) so heartily teiz'd, and toss'd, and tumbled you through all the mire, and dirt, the madness of your muse had been throwing at other people, it could still, so vixen like, sprawl out the same feeble paw of its satyr, to have t'other scratch at my nose: but as i know the vulgar (with whose applause i humbly content my self) are apt to laugh when they see a curst cat in a kennel; so whenever i observe your _grimalkin_ spirit shew but the least grinning gasp of life, i shall take the honest liberty of old _towser_ the house-dog, and merrily lift up my leg to have a little more game with you. "well sir, in plainer terms, i am now, you see, once more willing to bring matters to an issue, or (as the boxers say) to answer your challenge, and come to a trial of manhood with you; though by our slow proceedings, we seem rather to be at _law_, than at _loggerheads_ with one another; and if you had not been a blinder booby, than my self, you would have sate down quietly, with the last black eye i gave you: for so loath was i to squabble with you, that though you had been snapping, and snarling at me for twenty years together, you saw, i never so much as gave you a single growl, or took any notice of you. at last, 'tis true, in meer sport for others, rather than from the least tincture of concern for my self, i was inticed to be a little wanton, not to say waggish, with your character; by which having (you know) got the strong laugh on my side, i doubt i have so offended the gravity, and greatness of your soul, that to secure your more ample revenge, you have prudently taken the full term of thirteen months consideration, before you would pour it, upon me! but at last, it seems, we have it, and now souse! out comes your old _dunciad_, in a new dress, like fresh gold, upon stale gingerbread, sold out in penny-worth's of shining king _colley_, crown'd the hero of immortal stupidity!" and again (on page ): "at your peril be it, little gentleman, for i shall have t'other frisk with you, and don't despair that the very notice i am now taking of you, will once more make your fame fly, like a yelping cur with a bottle at his tail, the jest and joy of every bookseller's prentice between _wapping_ and _westminster_!" to this pamphlet pope, whose infirmities were very great, made no reply, and cibber had, as he had vowed, the last word. round the central articles of this quarrel a crowd of supplementary productions had gathered, a list of which will be found in the bibliography of cibber a few pages on. cibber's position of poet laureate furnished him with a steady income during his declining years, and his odes were turned out as required, with mechanical precision and most unpoetic spirit. they were the standing joke of the pamphleteers and news-sheet writers, and were always accompanied with a running fire of banter and parody. those curious in the matter will find excellent specimens, both of the odes and the burlesques, in the early volumes of the "gentleman's magazine." after the termination of his quarrel with pope, cibber's life was very uneventful; and, although it extended far beyond the allotted span, he continued to enjoy it to the very end. horace walpole greeted him one day, saying, "i am glad, sir, to see you looking so well." "egad, sir," replied the old man, "at eighty-four it is well for a man that he can look at all." on th december, , he died, having attained the great age of eighty-six.[ ] dr. doran "their majesties' servants," ( edition, ii. ) says: "i read in contemporary publications that there 'died at his house in berkeley square, colley cibber, esq., poet laureate;'" and although it has been stated that he died at islington, i see no reason to doubt dr. doran's explicit statement. cibber was buried in the danish church, wellclose square.[ ] so far as we know, only two of cibber's children survived him, his ne'er-do-well son theophilus, and his equally scapegrace daughter charlotte, who married charke the musician. the former was born in , and was drowned in the winter of , while crossing to ireland to fulfil an engagement in dublin. as an actor he was chiefly famous for playing ancient pistol, but he was also excellent in some of his father's characters, such as lord foppington, bayes, and sir francis wronghead. his private life was in the last degree disreputable, and especially so in his relations with his second wife, susanna maria arne--the great mrs. cibber. the literature regarding theophilus cibber is considerable in quantity and curious in quality. some account of it will be found in my "bibliographical account of english theatrical literature," pp. - . charlotte charke, who was born about , and died in april, , was of no note as an actress. her private life, however, was madly eccentric, and her autobiography, published in , is a curious and scarce work. cibber's principal plays have been noted in the course of his "apology;" but, for the sake of convenience, i give here a complete list of his regular dramatic productions:-- love's last shift--comedy--produced at drury lane, . woman's wit--comedy--drury lane, . xerxes--tragedy--lincoln's inn fields, . richard iii.--tragedy (alteration of shakespeare's play)--drury lane, . love makes a man--comedy--drury lane, . the school boy--comedy--drury lane, th october, . she would and she would not--comedy--drury lane, th november, . the careless husband--comedy--drury lane, th december, . perolla and izadora--tragedy--drury lane, rd december, . the comical lovers--comedy--haymarket, th february, . the double gallant--comedy--haymarket, st november, . the lady's last stake--comedy--haymarket, th december, . the rival fools--comedy--drury lane, th january, . the rival queans--comical-tragedy--haymarket, th june, . ximena--tragedy--drury lane, th november, . venus and adonis--masque--drury lane, . bulls and bears--farce--drury lane, st december, . myrtillo--pastoral interlude--drury lane, . the nonjuror--comedy--drury lane, th december, . the refusal--comedy--drury lane, th february, . cæsar in egypt--tragedy--drury lane, th december, . the provoked husband--comedy (in conjunction with vanbrugh)--drury lane, th january, . love in a riddle--pastoral--drury lane, th january, . damon and phillida--pastoral farce--haymarket, . papal tyranny in the reign of king john--tragedy (alteration of shakespeare's "king john")--covent garden, th february, . of these, his alteration of "richard iii." had practically undisputed possession of the stage, until the taste and judgment of mr. henry irving gave us back the original play.[ ] but in the provinces, when stars of the old school play a round of legitimate parts, the adulterated version still reigns triumphant, and the great effect of the night is got in cibber's famous line:-- "off with his head! so much for buckingham!" in "the hypocrite," a comedy still played at intervals, cibber's "nonjuror" survives. bickerstaffe, who was the author of the alteration, retained a very large portion of the original play, his chief change being the addition of the inimitable mawworm. that another of cibber's plays survives is owing to the taste of an american manager and to the genius of an american company of comedians. mr. augustin daly's company includes among its repertory cibber's comedy of "she would and she would not," and has shown in london as well as in new york how admirable a comedy it is. it goes without saying to those who have seen this company, that much of the success was due to miss ada rehan, who showed in hypolita, as she has done in katharine ("taming of the shrew"), that she is mistress of classical comedy as of modern touch-and-go farce.[ ] [illustration: susanna maria cibber as cordelia.] cibber was the cause of quite a considerable literature, mostly abusive. the following list, taken from my "bibliographical account of english theatrical literature" ( ), is, i believe, a complete catalogue of all separate publications by, or relating to, colley cibber:-- a clue to the comedy of the non-juror. with some hints of consequence relating to that play. in a letter to n. rowe, esq; poet laureat to his majesty. london (curll): . vo. d. cibber's "non-juror," produced at drury-lane, december , , was written in favour of the hanoverian succession. rowe wrote the prologue, which was very abusive of nonjurors. this tract is not an attack on the play, but a satire on, it is said, bishop hoadly. a lash for the laureat: or an address by way of satyr; most humbly inscrib'd to the unparallel'd mr. rowe, on occasion of a late insolent prologue to the non-juror. london (j. morphew): . folio. title, leaf: pref. leaf. pp. . d. a furious attack on rowe on account of his prologue. a tract of extreme rarity. a compleat key to the non-juror. explaining the characters in that play, with observations thereon. by mr. joseph gay. the second edioion (_sic_). london (curll): . vo. pp. including title and half-title. rd edition: . joseph gay is a pseudonym. pope is said to be the author of the pamphlet, which is very unfriendly to cibber. the theatre-royal turn'd into a mountebank's stage. in some remarks upon mr. cibber's quack-dramatical performance, called the non-juror. by a non-juror. london (morphew): . vo. title leaf. pp. . d. the comedy call'd the non-juror. shewing the particular scenes wherein that hypocrite is concern'd. with remarks, and a key, explaining the characters of that excellent play. london (printed for j. l.): . vo. pp. , including title. d. some cursory remarks on the play call'd the non-juror, written by mr. cibber. in a letter to a friend. london (chetwood): . vo. dated from button's coffee-house and signed "h. s." very laudatory. a journey to london. being part of a comedy written by the late sir john vanbrugh, knt. and printed after his own copy: which (since his decease) has been made an intire play, by mr. cibber, and call'd the provok'd husband, &c. london (watts): . vo. pp. , including title. "the provok'd husband," by vanbrugh and cibber, was produced at drury lane, january , ; and though cibber's nonjuror enemies tried to condemn it, was very successful. this tract shows how much of the play was written by vanbrugh. reflections on the principal characters in the provoked husband. london: . vo. an apology for the life of mr. colley cibber, comedian, and late patentee of the theatre-royal. with an historical view of the stage during his own time. written by himself. london (printed by john watts for the author): . to. port. second edition, london, , vo., no portrait; third edition, london, , vo., portrait; fourth edition, , vols. mo., portrait. a good edition was published, london, , vo., with notes by e. bellchambers and a portrait. the "apology" forms one of hunt's series of autobiographies, london, . one of the most famous and valuable of theatrical books. an apology for the life of mr. t---- c----, comedian. being a proper sequel to the apology for the life of mr. colley cibber, comedian. with an historical view of the stage to the present year. supposed to be written by himself. in the stile and manner of the poet laureat. london (mechell): . vo. s. the object of this pamphlet, ascribed to fielding, is chiefly to ridicule colley cibber's "apology." herman, s. a brief supplement to colley cibber, esq; his lives of the late famous actors and actresses. _si tu scis, melior ego._ by anthony, vulgò tony aston. printed for the author, n.p. (london): n.d. ( - ). vo. pp. including title. a pamphlet of extreme rarity. isaac reed purchased a copy in ; and in he notes on it that, though he has had it twenty-six years, he has never seen another copy. reed's copy was bought by field for s., at whose sale, in , genest bought it for s. the tryal of colley cibber, comedian, &c. for writing a book intitled an apology for his life, &c. being a thorough examination thereof; wherein he is proved guilty of high crimes and misdemeanors against the english language, and in characterising many persons of distinction.... together with an indictment exhibited against alexander pope of twickenham, esq; for not exerting his talents at this juncture: and the arraignment of george cheyne, physician at bath, for the philosophical, physical, and theological heresies, uttered in his last book on regimen. london (for the author): . vo. pp. vii. . s. with motto--"lo! he hath written a book!" the dedication is signed "t. johnson." the laureat: or, the right side of colley cibber, esq; containing explanations, amendments, and observations, on a book intituled, an apology for the life, and writings of mr. colley cibber. not written by himself. with some anecdotes of the laureat, which he (thro' an excess of modesty) omitted. to which is added, the history of the life, manners and writings of Æsopus the tragedian, from a fragment of a greek manuscript found in the library of the vatican; interspers'd with observations of the translator. london (roberts): . vo. s. d. a furious attack on cibber. the life of Æsopus is a burlesque life of cibber. daniel. s. d. the history of the stage. in which is included, the theatrical characters of the most celebrated actors who have adorn'd the theatre. among many others are the following, _viz._ mr. betterton, mr. montfort, mr. dogget, mr. booth, mr. wilks, mr. nokes. mrs. barry, mrs. montfort, mrs. gwin, mrs. bracegirdle, mrs. porter, mrs. oldfield. together with, the theatrical life of mr. colly cibber. london (miller): . vo. a "boil-down" of cibber's apology. a letter from mr. cibber, to mr. pope, inquiring into the motives that might induce him in his satyrical works, to be so frequently fond of mr. cibber's name. london (lewis): . vo. s. second edition, london, , vo.; reprinted, london, , vo. the sting of this pamphlet lies in an anecdote told of pope at a house of ill-fame, in retaliation for his line: "and has not colley still his lord and whore?" a letter to mr. c--b--r, on his letter to mr. p---- london (roberts): . vo. pp. d. very scarce. abusive of pope--laudatory towards cibber. difference between verbal and practical virtue. with a prefatory epistle from mr. c--b--r to mr. p. london (roberts): . folio. title leaf: epistle leaf: pp. . very rare. a rhymed attack on pope. a blast upon bays; or, a new lick at the laureat. containing, remarks upon a late tatling performance, entitled, a letter from mr. cibber to mr. pope, &c. _and lo there appeared an old woman!_ vide the letter throughout. london (robbins): . vo. pp. . d. a bitter attack on cibber. sawney and colley, a poetical dialogue: occasioned by a late letter from the laureat of st. james's, to the homer of twickenham. something in the manner of dr. swift. london (for j. h.): n.d. ( ). folio. title leaf: pp. . s. very scarce. a coarse and ferocious attack on pope in rhyme. the egotist: or, colley upon cibber. being his own picture retouch'd, to so _plain_ a likeness, that no one, _now_, would have the face to own it, but himself. london (lewis): . vo. pp. including title. s. anonymous, but undoubtedly by cibber himself. another occasional letter from mr. cibber to mr. pope. wherein the new hero's preferment to his throne, in the dunciad, seems not to be accepted. and the author of that poem his more rightful claim to it, is asserted. with an expostulatory address to the reverend mr. w. w----n, author of the new preface, and adviser in the curious improvements of that satire. by mr. colley cibber. london (lewis): . vo. s. the rev. w. w----n is warburton. this tract was reprinted, glasgow, n. d., vo. the two "letters" were reprinted, london, , with, i believe, a curious frontispiece representing the adventure related by cibber at pope's expense in the first "letter." i am not certain whether the frontispiece was issued with the london or glasgow reprint, having seen it in copies of both. in bonn's "lowndes" ( ) is mentioned a parody on this first "letter," with the same title, except that "mrs. cibber's name" is substituted for "mr. cibber's name." lowndes says: "a copy is described in mr. thorpe's catalogue, p. iv, , 'with the frontispiece of pope surprized with mrs. cibber.'" i gravely doubt the existence of any such work, and fancy that this frontispiece is the one just mentioned, but wrongly described. herman (two letters, with scarce front.), s. a letter to colley cibber, esq; on his transformation of king john. london. . vo. cibber's mangling of "king john," entitled "papal tyranny in the reign of king john," was produced at covent garden, february , . a new book of the dunciad: occasion'd by mr. warburton's new edition of the dunciad complete. by a gentleman of one of the inns of court. with several of mr. warburton's own notes, and likewise notes _variorum_. london (j. payne & j. bouquet): . to. s. cibber dethroned and warburton elevated to the throne of dulness. shakspere's tragedy of richard iii., considered dramatically and historically; and in comparison with cibber's alteration as at present in use on the stage, in a lecture delivered to the members of the liverpool literary, scientific and commercial institution, by thos. stuart, of the theatre royal. (liverpool): n. d. (about ). mo. cibber published in a work entitled "the character and conduct of cicero, considered from the history of his life by dr. middleton;" but it is of little value or interest. a brief supplement to _colley cibber_, esq; his lives of the late famous actors and actresses. _si tu scis, melior ego._ by _anthony_, } vulgò _tony_} _aston_. [illustration] printed for the author. * * * * * mr. cibber _is guilty of omission, that he hath not given us any description of the several personages' beauties, or faults----faults (i say) of the several_ actors, &c. _for_ nemo sine crimine vivit. _or, as the late duke of_ buckingham _says of_ characters, _that, to shew a man not defective,_ ------------------------------------were to draw a faultless monster, that the world ne'er saw. * * * * * a brief supplement to colley cibber, esq; his lives of the late famous actors and actresses. [illustration] mr. _betterton_ (although a superlative good actor) labour'd under ill figure, being clumsily made, having a great head, a short thick neck, stoop'd in the shoulders, and had fat short arms, which he rarely lifted higher than his stomach.--his left hand frequently lodg'd in his breast, between his coat and waist-coat, while, with his right, he prepar'd his speech.--his actions were few, but just.--he had little eyes, and a broad face, a little pock-fretten, a corpulent body, and thick legs, with large feet.--he was better to meet, than to follow; for his aspect was serious, venerable, and majestic; in his latter time a little paralytic.--his voice was low and grumbling; yet he could tune it by an artful _climax_, which enforc'd universal attention, even from the _fops_ and _orange-girls_.--he was incapable of dancing, even in a country-dance; as was mrs. _barry_: but their good qualities were more than equal to their deficiencies.--while mrs. _bracegirdle_ sung very agreeably in the loves of _mars_ and _venus_, and danced in a country-dance, as well as mr. _wilks_, though not with so much art and foppery, but like a well-bred gentlewoman.--mr. _betterton_ was the most extensive actor, from _alexander_ to sir _john falstaff_; but, in _that_ last character, he wanted the waggery of _estcourt_, the drollery of _harper_, the sallaciousness of _jack evans_.--but, then, _estcourt_ was too trifling; _harper_ had too much of the _bartholomew-fair_; and _evans_ misplac'd his humour.--thus, you see what _flaws_ are in _bright diamonds_:--and i have often wish'd that mr. _betterton_ would have resign'd the part of hamlet to some young actor, (who might have personated, though not have acted, it better) for, when he threw himself at _ophelia's_ feet, he appear'd a little too grave for a young student, lately come from the university of _wirtemberg_; and his _repartees_ seem'd rather as _apopthegms_ from a _sage philosopher_, than the _sporting flashes_ of a young hamlet; and no one else could have pleas'd the town, he was so rooted in their opinion.--his younger cotemporary, (_betterton_ , _powel_ , years old) _powel_, attempted several of _betterton's_ parts, as _alexander_, _jaffier_, &c. but lost his credit; as, in _alexander_, he maintain'd not the dignity of a king, but _out-heroded_ herod; and in his poison'd, mad scene, _out-rav'd all probability_; while _betterton_ kept his passion under, and shew'd it most (as fume smoaks most, when stifled). _betterton_, from the time he was dress'd, to the end of the play, kept his mind in the same temperament and adaptness, as the present character required.--if i was to write of him all day, i should still remember fresh matter in his behalf; and, before i part with him, suffer this facetious story of him, and a country tenant of his. mr. _betterton_ had a small farm near _reading_, in the county of _berks_; and the countryman came, in the time of _bartholomew-fair_, to pay his rent.--mr. _betterton_ took him to the fair, and going to one _crawley's_ puppet-shew, offer'd _two shillings_ for himself and _roger_, his tenant.--_no, no, sir_, said _crawley_; _we never take money of one another_. this affronted mr. _betterton_ who threw down the money, and they enter'd.--_roger_ was hugeously diverted with _punch_, and bred a great noise, saying, that he would drink with him, for he was a merry fellow.--mr. _betterton_ told him, he was only a puppet, made up of _sticks and rags_: however, _roger_ still cried out, that he would go and drink with _punch_.--when master took him behind, where the puppets hung up, he swore, he thought _punch_ had been alive.--_however_, said he, _though he be but_ sticks and rags, _i'll give him six-pence to drink my health_.--at night, mr. _betterton_ went to the _theatre_, when was play'd the orphan; mr. _betterton_ acting _castalio_; mrs. _barry_, _monimia_.----_well_ (said master) _how dost like this play_, roger? _why, i don't knows_, (says _roger_) _its well enought for_ sticks and rags. to end with this _phoenix_ of the stage, i must say of him, as _hamlet_ does of his father: "he was a man (take him for all in all) i cannot look upon his like again." his favourite, mrs. _barry_, claims the next in Æstimation. they were both never better pleas'd, than in playing together.--mrs. _barry_ outshin'd mrs. _bracegirdle_ in the character of zara in the _mourning bride_, altho' mr. _congreve_ design'd almeria for that favour.--and yet, this fine creature was not handsome, her mouth op'ning most on the right side, which she strove to draw t'other way, and, at times, composing her face, as if sitting to have her picture drawn.--mrs. _barry_ was middle-siz'd, and had darkish hair, light eyes, dark eye-brows, and was indifferently plump:--her face somewhat preceded her action, as the latter did her words, her face ever expressing the passions; not like the actresses of late times, who are afraid of putting their faces out of the form of non-meaning, lest they should crack the cerum, white-wash, or other cosmetic, trowel'd on. mrs. _barry_ had a manner of drawing out her words, which became her, but not mrs. _braidshaw_, and mrs. _porter_, (successors.)----to hear her speak the following speech in the orphan, was a charm: _i'm ne'er so well pleas'd, as when i hear thee speak, and listen to the music of thy voice._ and again: _who's he that speaks with a voice so sweet, as the shepherd pipes upon the mountain, when all his little flock are gath'ring round him?_ neither she, nor any of the actors of those times, had any tone in their speaking, (too much, lately, in use.)--in _tragedy_ she was solemn and august--in _free comedy_ alert, easy, and genteel--pleasant in her face and action; filling the stage with variety of gesture.--she was woman to lady _shelton_, of _norfolk_, (my godmother)--when lord _rochester_ took her on the stage; where for some time, they could make nothing of her.--she could neither sing, nor dance, no, not in a country-dance. * * * * * mrs. _bracegirdle_, that _diana_ of the stage, hath many places contending for her birth--the most received opinion is, that she was the daughter of a coachman, coachmaker, or letter-out of coaches, in the town of _northampton_.--but i am inclinable to my father's opinion, (who had a great value for her reported virtue) that she was a distant relation, and came out of _staffordshire_, from about _walsal_ or _wolverhampton_.--she had many assailants on her virtue, as lord _lovelace_, mr. _congreve_, the last of which had her company most; but she ever resisted his vicious attacks, and, yet, was always uneasy at his leaving her; on which observation he made the following song: pious celinda _goes to pray'rs, whene'er i ask the favour; yet, the tender fool's in tears, when she believes i'll leave her. wou'd i were free from this restraint, or else had power to win her! wou'd she cou'd make of me a saint, or i of her a sinner!_ and, as mr. _durfey_ alludes to it in his puppet song--in _don quixot_, _since that our fate intends our amity shall be no dearer, still let us kiss and be friends, and sigh we shall never come nearer._ she was very shy of lord _lovelace's_ company, as being an engaging man, who drest well: and as, every day, his servant came to her, to ask her how she did, she always return'd her answer in the most obeisant words and behaviour, _that she was indifferent well, she humbly thank'd his lordship_.--she was of a lovely height, with dark-brown hair and eye-brows, black sparkling eyes, and a fresh blushy complexion; and, whenever she exerted herself, had an involuntary flushing in her breast, neck and face, having continually a chearful aspect, and a fine set of even white teeth; never making an _exit_, but that she left the audience in an imitation of her pleasant countenance. genteel comedy was her chief essay, and that too when in men's cloaths, in which she far surmounted all the actresses of that and this age.--yet she had a defect scarce perceptible, _viz._ her right shoulder a little protended, which, when in men's cloaths, was cover'd by a long or campaign peruke.--she was finely shap'd, and had very handsome legs and feet; and her gait, or walk, was free, manlike, and modest, when in breeches.--her virtue had its reward, both in applause and _specie_; for it happen'd, that as the dukes of _dorset_ and _devonshire_, lord _hallifax_, and other nobles, over a bottle, were all extolling mrs. _bracegirdle's_ virtuous behaviour, come, says lord _hallifax_--_you all commend her virtue, &c. but why do we not present this incomparable woman with something worthy her acceptance?_ his lordship deposited guineas, which the rest made up , and sent to her, with encomiums on her virtue.--she was, when on the _stage_, diurnally charitable, going often into _clare-market_, and giving money to the poor unemploy'd basket-women, insomuch that she could not pass that neighbourhood without the thankful acclamations of people of all degrees; so that, if any person had affronted her, they would have been in danger of being kill'd directly; and yet this good woman was an actress.--she has been off the stage these years or more, but was alive _july , _; for i saw her in the _strand, london_, then--with the remains of charming _bracegirdle_. * * * * * mr. _sandford_, although not usually deem'd an actor of the first rank, yet the characters allotted him were such, that none besides, then, or since, ever topp'd; for his figure, which was diminutive and mean, (being round-shoulder'd, meagre-fac'd, spindle-shank'd, splay-footed, with a sour countenance, and long lean arms) render'd him a proper person to discharge _jago_, _foresight_, and _ma'lignij_, in the villain. but he fail'd in succeeding in a fine description of a triumphant cavalcade, in _alonzo_, in the mourning bride, because his figure was despicable, (although his energy was, by his voice and action, enforc'd with great soundness of art, and justice.)--this person acted strongly with his face,--and (as king _charles_ said) was the best villain in the world.--he proceeded from the _sandfords_ of _sandford_, that lies between _whitchurch_ and _newport_, in shropshire.--he would not be concern'd with mr. _betterton_, mrs. _barry_, _&c._ as a sharer in the revolt from _drury-lane_ to _lincoln's-inn-fields_; but said, _this is my agreement_.--_to_ samuel sandford, _gentleman_, threescore shillings a week.----pho! pho! _said mr._ betterton, _three pounds a week_.----_no, no, said_ sandford;--_to_ samuel sandford, _gentleman_, threescore shillings a week. for which _cave underhill_, who was a / sharer, would often jeer _sandford_; saying, _samuel sandford, gent, my man._----go, you sot, said _sandford_.--to which t'other ever replied, _samuel sandford, my man_ samuel. [illustration: cave underhill.] _cave underhill_, and mr. _dogget_, will be the next treated of. * * * * * _cave underhill_, though not the best actor in the course of precedency, was more admired by the actors than the audience--there being then no rivals in his dry, heavy, downright way in low comedy.--his few parts were, the first grave-digger in hamlet,--_sancho pancha_, in the first part of don quixot,--_ned blunt_, in the rover,--_jacomo_, in the libertine, and the _host_, in the villain:--all which were dry, heavy characters, except in _jacomo_; in which, when he aim'd at any archness, he fell into downright insignificance.--he was about years of age the latter end of king _william's_ reign, about six foot high, long and broad-fac'd, and something more corpulent than this author; his face very like the _homo sylvestris_, or _champanza_; for his nose was flattish and short, and his upper lip very long and thick, with a wide mouth and short chin, a churlish voice, and awkward action, (leaping often up with both legs at a time, when he conceived any thing waggish, and afterwards hugging himself at the thought.)----he could not enter into any serious character, much more tragedy; and was the most confin'd actor i ever saw: and could scarce be brought to speak a short _latin_ speech in don quixot, when _sancho_ is made to say, _sit bonus populus, bonus ero gubernator_; which he pronounced thus: _shit bones and bobble arse, bones, and ears goble nature._ he was obliged to mr. _betterton_ for thrusting him into the character of _merryman_ in his _wanton wife_, or _amorous widow_; but _westheart cave_ was too much of a dullman.--his chief atchievement was in _lolpoop_, in the _'squire of alsatia_; where it was almost impossible for him to deviate from himself: but he did great injustice to sir _sampson legend_ in _love for love_, unless it had been true, that the knight had been bred a hog-driver.--in short, _underhill_ was far from being a good actor--as appear'd by the late _ben. johnson's_ assuming his parts of _jacomo_--the grave-digger in _hamlet_--and judge _grypus_ in _amphytrion_.--i know, mr. _underhill_ was much cry'd up in his time; but i am so stupid as not to know why. * * * * * mr. _dogget_, indeed, cannot reasonably be so censur'd; for whoever decry'd him, must inevitably have laugh'd much, whenever he saw him act. mr. _dogget_ was but little regarded, 'till he chopp'd on the character of _solon_ in the _marriage-hater match'd_; and from that he vegetated fast in the parts of _fondlewife_ in the _old batchelor_--_colignii_, in the _villain_--_hob_, in the _country wake_--and _ben_ the sailor, in _love for love_.--but, on a time, he suffer'd himself to be expos'd, by attempting the serious character of _phorbas_ in _oedipus_, than which nothing cou'd be more ridiculous--for when he came to these words--(_but, oh! i wish_ phorbas _had perish'd in that very moment_)--the audience conceived that it was spoke like _hob_ in his dying-speech.--they burst out into a loud laughter; which sunk _tom dogget's_ progress in tragedy from that time. _fælix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum._ but our present laureat had a better opinion of himself;--for, in a few nights afterwards, _colley_, at the old theatre, attempted the same character; but was hiss'd,--his voice sounding like _lord foppington's_--_ne sutor ultra crepidam._ mr. _dogget_ was a little, lively, spract man, about the stature of mr. l----, sen. bookseller in b--h, but better built.--his behaviour modest, chearful, and complaisant.--he sung in company very agreeably, and in public very comically.--he danc'd the _cheshire round_ full as well as the fam'd capt. _george_, but with much more nature and nimbleness.--i have had the pleasure of his conversation for one year, when i travell'd with him in his strolling company, and found him a man of very good sense, but illiterate; for he wrote me word thus--_sir, i will give you a_ hole instead of (_whole_) _share_.--he dress'd neat, and something fine--in a plain cloth coat, and a brocaded waistcoat:--but he is so recent, having been so often at _bath_,--_satis est_.--he gave his yearly water-badge, out of a warm principle, (being a _staunch revolution-whig_.)----i cannot part with this _nonpareil_, without saying, that he was the most faithful, pleasant actor that ever was--for he never deceiv'd his audience--because, while they gaz'd at him, he was working up the joke, which broke out suddenly in involuntary acclamations and laughter.--whereas our modern actors are fumbling the dull minutes, keeping the gaping pit in suspence of something delightful a coming,--_et parturiunt montes, nascitur ridiculus mus_. he was the best face-player and gesticulator, and a thorough master of the several dialects, except the _scots_, (for he never was in _scotland_) but was, for all that, a most excellent _sawney_. whoever would see him pictur'd, may view his picture, in the character of _sawney_, at the _duke's head_ in _lynn-regis_, in _norfolk_.----while i travell'd with him, each sharer kept his horse, and was every where respected as a gentleman. _jack verbruggen_, in point of merit, will salute you next. _jack verbruggen_, that rough diamond, shone more bright than all the artful, polish'd brillants that ever sparkled on our stage.--(_jack bore the bell away._)--he had the words perfect at one view, and nature directed 'em into voice and action, in which last he was always pleasing--his person being tall, well-built and clean; only he was a little in-kneed, which gave him a shambling gate, which was a carelessness, and became him.--his chief parts were _bajazet_, _oroonoko_, _edgar_ in king _lear_, _wilmore_ in the _rover_, and _cassius_, when mr. _betterton_ play'd _brutus_ with him.--then you might behold the grand contest, _viz._ whether nature or art excell'd--_verbruggen_ wild and untaught, or _betterton_ in the trammels of instruction.---in _edgar_, in king _lear_, _jack_ shew'd his judgment most; for his madness was unlimited: whereas he sensibly felt a tenderness for _cordelia_, in these words, (speaking to her)--_as you did once know_ edgar!--and you may best conceive his manly, wild starts, by these words in _oroonoko_,--_ha! thou hast rous'd the lyon [in] his den; he stalks abroad, and the wild forest trembles at his roar:_--which was spoke, like a lyon, by _oroonoko_, and _jack verbruggen_; for nature was so predominant, that his second thoughts never alter'd his prime performance.--the late marquess of _hallifax_ order'd oroonoko to be taken from _george powel_, saying to mr. _southern_, the author,--that _jack_ was the unpolish'd hero, and wou'd do it best.--in the _rover_ (_wilmore_) never were more beautiful scenes than between him, and mrs. _bracegirdle_, in the character of _helena_; for, what with _verbruggen's_ untaught airs, and her smiling repartees, the audience were afraid they were going off the stage every moment.--_verbruggen_ was nature, without extravagance--freedom, without licentiousness--and vociferous, without bellowing.----he was most indulgently soft, when he says to _imoinda_,--_i cannot, as i wou'd, bestow thee; and, as i ought, i dare not._--yet, with all these perfections, _jack_ did, and said, more silly things than all the actors besides; for he was drawn in at the common cheat of pricking at the girdle, cups and balls, _&c._ and told his wife one day that he had found out a way to raise a great benefit.--_i hope_, said she, _you'll have your_ bills _printed in_ gold letters.--_no, no, better than that_, said he; _for i'll have the king's-arms all in gold letters_.--as mr. _verbruggen_ had nature for his directress in acting, so had a known singer, _jemmy bowen_, the same in music:--he, when practising a song set by mr. purcell, some of the music told him to grace and run a division in such a place. _o let him alone_, said mr. _purcell_; _he will grace it more naturally than you, or i, can teach him_.--in short, an actor, like a poet, _nascitur, non fit._ and this author prizes himself on that attempt, as he hath had the judgment of all the best critics in the character of _fondlewife_ in the _old batchelor_.--_if you wou'd see nature_, say they, _see_ tony aston--_if art_, colley cibber;--and, indeed, i have shed mock tears in that part often involuntarily. * * * * * mrs. _verbruggen_ claims a place next. she was all art, and her acting all acquir'd, but dress'd so nice, it look'd like nature. there was not a look, a motion, but what were all design'd; and these at the same word, period, occasion, incident, were every night, in the same character, alike; and yet all sat charmingly easy on her.--her face, motion, _&c._ chang'd at once: but the greatest, and usual, position was laughing, flirting her fan, and _je ne scay quois_,--with a kind of affected twitter.--she was very loath to accept of the part of _weldon_ in _oroonoko_, and that with just reason, as being obliged to put on men's cloaths--having thick legs and thighs, corpulent and large posteriours;--but yet the town (that respected her) compounded, and receiv'd her with applause; for she was the most pleasant creature that ever appear'd: adding to these, that she was a fine, fair woman, plump, full-featur'd; her face of a fine, smooth oval, full of beautiful, well-dispos'd moles on it, and on her neck and breast--whatever she did was not to be call'd acting; no, no, it was what she represented: she was neither more nor less, and was the most easy actress in the world. the late mrs. oldfield borrow'd something of her manner in free comedy;--as for tragedy, mrs. _verbruggen_ never attempted it. _melanthe_ was her master-piece; and the part of _hillaria_ in _tunbridge-walks_ cou'd not be said to be acted by any one but her.--her maiden-name was _percival_; and she was the widow of mr. _mountford_, (who was kill'd by lord _mohun_) when mr. _verbruggen_ married her.--she was the best conversation possible; never captious, or displeas'd at any thing but what was gross or indecent; for she was cautious, lest fiery _jack_ shou'd so resent it as to breed a quarrel;--for he wou'd often say,--_dammee! tho' i don't much value my wife, yet no body shall affront her, by g--d_; and his sword was drawn on the least occasion, which was much in fashion at the latter end of king _william's_ reign;--at which time i came on the stage, when mr. _dogget_ left it; and then the facetious _joe haines_ was declining in years and reputation, tho' a good actor and poet, his prologues exceeding all ever wrote.--[_vide_ love and a bottle.] * * * * * _joe haines_ is more remarkable for the witty, tho' wicked, pranks he play'd, and for his prologues and epilogues, than for acting.--he was, at first, a dancer.--after he had made his tour of _france_, he narrowly escaped being seiz'd, and sent to the _bastile_, for personating an _english_ peer, and running livres in debt in _paris_; but, happily landing at dover, he went to _london_, where in _bartholomew-fair_, he set up a droll-booth, and acted a new droll, call'd, _the whore of babylon, the devil, and the pope_. this was in the first year of king _james_ ii. when _joe_ was sent for, and roundly admonish'd, by judge _pollixfen_ for it. _joe_ reply'd, _that he did it in respect to his_ holiness; _for, whereas many ignorant people believed the_ pope _to be a_ beast, _he shew'd him to be a fine, comely old gentleman, as he was; not with seven heads, and ten horns, as the_ scotch _parsons describe him_. however, this affair spoil'd _joe's_ expiring credit; for next morning, a couple of bailiffs seiz'd him in an action of _l._ as the bishop of _ely_ was passing by in his coach.--quoth _joe_ to the bailiffs,--_gentlemen, here's my cousin, the bishop of_ ely, _going into his house; let me but speak to him, and he'll pay the debt and charges_. the bailiffs thought they might venture that, as they were within three or four yards of him. so, up goes _joe_ to the coach, pulling off his hat, and got close to it. the bishop order'd the coach to stop, whilst _joe_ (close to his ear) said softly, _my lord, here are two poor men, who have such great scruples of conscience, that, i fear, they'll hang themselves._--very well, _said the bishop_. so, calling to the bailiffs, he said, _you two men, come to me to-morrow morning, and i'll satisfy you_. the men bow'd, and went away. _joe_ (hugging himself with his fallacious device) went also his way. in the morning, the bailiffs (expecting the debt and charges) repair'd to the bishop's; where being introduced,--_well_, said the bishop, _what are your scruples of conscience?_--_scruples!_ (said the bailiffs) _we have no scruples: we are bailiffs, my lord, who, yesterday, arrested your cousin_, joe haines, _for l. your lordship promised to satisfy us to-day, and we hope your lordship will be as good as your word._--the bishop, reflecting that his honour and name would be expos'd, (if he complied not) paid the debt and charges.--there were two parts of plays (_nol bluff_ in the _old batchelor_, and _roger_ in _Æsop_) which none ever touch'd but _joe haines_.--i own, i have copied him in _roger_, as i did mr. _dogget_ in _fondlewife_.--but, now, for another story of him. in the long vacation, when harlots, poets, and players, are all poor,--_joe_ walking in _cross-street_, by _hatton-garden_, sees a fine venison-pasty come out of _glassop's_, a pastry-cook's shop, which a boy carried to a gentleman's house thereby.--_joe_ watch'd it; and seeing a gentleman knock at the door, he goes to the door, and ask'd him if he had knock'd at it: _yes_, said the gentleman; _the door is open'd_.--in goes the gentleman, and _joe_ after him, to the dining-room.--chairs were set, and all ready for the pasty. the master of the house took _joe_ for the gentleman's friend, whom he had invited to dinner; which being over, the gentleman departed. _joe_ sat still.--says the master of the house to _joe_, _sir, i thought you would have gone with your friend_!--_my friend_, said _joe_; _alas! i never saw him before in my life_.--_no, sir_, replied the other: _pray, sir, then how came you to dinner here?_--_sir_, said _joe_, _i saw a venison-pasty carried in here; and, by this means, have din'd very heartily of it_. _my name is_ joe haines, (said he) _i belong to the_ theatre.--_oh, mr._ haines, (continued the gentleman) _you are very welcome; you are a man of wit: come, bring t'other bottle_; which being finish'd, _joe_, with good manners, departed, and purposely left his cane behind him, which he design'd to be an introduction to another dinner there: for, next day, when they were gone to dinner, _joe_ knock'd briskly at the door, to call for his cane, when the gentleman of the house was telling a friend of his the trick he play'd the day before.--_pray call mr._ haines _in_.--_so, mr._ haines, said he; _sit down, and partake of another dinner_.--_to tell you the truth_, said _joe_, _i left my cane yesterday on purpose_: at which they all laugh'd.--now _joe_ (altho' while greedily eating) was very attentive to a discourse on humanity begun, and continued, by the stranger gentleman; wherein he advanced, that every man's duty was to assist another, whether with advice, money, cloaths, food, or whatever else. this sort of principle suited _joe's_ end, as by the sequel will appear. the company broke up, and _joe_, and the gentleman, walk'd away, (_joe_ sighing as he went along.) the gentleman said to him, _what do you sigh for?_--_dear sir_, (quoth _joe_) _i fear my landlord will, this day, seize my goods for only a quarter's rent, due last week_.--_how much is the money?_ said the gentleman.--_fifty shillings_, said _joe_, _and the patentees owe me ten pounds, which will be paid next week._--_come_, said the gentleman, _i'll lend thee fifty shillings on your note, to pay me faithfully in three weeks_. which _joe_, with many promises and imprecations, sign'd.--but _joe_, thereafter, had his eyes looking out before him; and, whenever he saw the gentleman, would carefully avoid him; which the gentleman one day perceiv'd, and going a-cross _smithfield_, met _joe_ full in the face, and, in the middle of the _rounds_, stopp'd him. taking him by the collar, _sirrah_, said he, _pray pay me now, you impudent, cheating dog, or i'll beat you into a jelly_.--_joe_ fell down on his knees, making a dismal outcry, which drew a mob about them, who enquir'd into the occasion, which was told them; and they, upon hearing it, said to the gentleman, _that the poor man could not pay it, if he had it not_.--_well_, said he, _let him kneel down, and eat up that thin sirreverence, and i'll forgive him, and give up his note_.--_joe_ promis'd he would, and presently eat it all up, smearing his lips and nose with the human conserve. the gentleman gave him his note; when _joe_ ran and embrac'd him, kissing him, and bedaubing his face, and setting the mob a hollowing. * * * * * _the_ second part _of their_ lives, _with the continuation of_ joe haines'_s pranks, the author hopes a fresh advance for.----in the_ interim, _he thanks his friends._ _finis._ memoirs of the actors and actresses mentioned by cibber, taken from edmund bellchambers's edition of the "apology," . william smith. this judicious actor, who is said to have been originally a barrister, came into the duke's company, when acting under sir william d'avenant, in lincoln's inn fields, about the year . he rose soon after to the duties of _buckingham_, in "king henry the eighth," and subsequently filled a range of characters distinguished by their variety and importance. _sir william stanley_, in caryl's wretched play of the "english princess," procured him additional estimation and applause, which were still farther enlarged by his performance of _stanford_ in shadwell's "sullen lovers." mr. smith was the original _chamont_ in otway's "orphan," and played many parts of as much local consequence in pieces that are now forgotten. note.--all passages enclosed in square brackets are by the present editor, who is also responsible for the notes marked (l.). chetwood informs us that mr. smith was zealously attached to the interests of king james the second, in whose army, attended by two servants, he entered as a volunteer. upon the abdication of that monarch, he returned to the stage, by the persuasions of many friends, who admired his performances, and resumed his original part of _wilmore_ in the "rover;" but having been received with considerable disapprobation, on account of his party principles, the audience was dismissed, and he departed from public life in the manner already mentioned. it is difficult to reconcile these discrepancies. chetwood's minuteness looks like credibility, and cibber has committed a mistake in stating that mr. smith "entirely quitted" the stage at this secession, he having returned in , when at the earnest solicitations of his sincere friends mr. betterton and mrs. barry, strengthened by the influence of congreve over many of his connections in high life, he consented to sustain the part of _scandal_ in that author's comedy of "love for love," upon its production at the new theatre in little lincoln's inn fields, when his inimitable performance imparted an extra charm to that admirable play. continued peals of applause attested the satisfaction which his auditors felt at the return of their old favourite, and it seems singular that congreve should have wholly overlooked this memorable event, in the "prologue" at least, where the defection of williams and mrs. mountfort is thus obscurely stated: forbear your wonder, and the fault forgive if in our larger family we grieve one falling adam, and one tempted eve. mr. smith continued on the stage till about twelve months after this period, when, according to downes, having a long part in banks's tragedy of "cyrus," , he fell sick on the fourth day of performance, and died from a cold, as chetwood relates, occasioned by cramp, which having seized him while in bed, he rose to get rid of it, and remained so long in his naked condition, that a fever ensued from disordered lungs, and, in three days, put an end to his existence. we have but a slender clue to the stage-management of mr. smith, which was exercised over the duke's company in dorset-garden, conjointly with betterton and dr. d'avenant, when the famous agreement which bears their signatures was concluded with hart and kynaston, for an union of the theatres. it has been said that booth [who wrote an epitaph on smith] applied to him for an engagement, which was refused from a fear of offending his relatives, but with that kindness of expression and deportment so warmly distinguished in his epitaph. this assertion, however, is unfounded, for when mr. smith died, barton booth was a westminster scholar, and in the fourteenth year of his age; the character of this eminent comedian must, accordingly, have been drawn up from such intelligence as the writer acquired at a subsequent period. it only remains to be remarked, that chetwood has placed mr. smith's original return to the stage in the year ; but, not to insist upon the known looseness of this writer's information, let us ask if a political offence would be so vehemently remembered, after the lapse of four years, as to drive an estimable actor from the harmless pursuance of his ordinary duties? cibber is doubtless correct in the floating date of this fact, which must have happened _previous_ to the revolution. mr. smith was a principal actor in lee's later tragedies, but in the "princess of cleve," to, , we find the part he would naturally have played to betterton's _nemours_, supported by mr. williams. smith's value as an actor, may be immediately felt by a reference to the parts he enjoyed under betterton, with whom he lived till death in the most cordial manner, enhancing his fame by honourable emulation, and promoting his interests by unbroken amity. no instance has been recorded of their dissention or dispute, and from the notice which betterton extended to booth, he very possibly communicated that high account of his departed friend, which the latter has recorded with such spirit and fidelity. from cibber's admission, it appears, that smith's moral qualities and professional excellence, procured him an extensive reception among people of rank, a patronage which his polished manners continued to exact, till society, by his death, sustained one of its deepest deprivations. (b.) chetwood's story is now incapable either of proof or disproof. the known facts about smith's retirement are, that his name appears to constantine the great, to courtine in otway's "atheist," and to lorenzo in southerne's "disappointment," in ; that it then disappears, and does not again occur till . it is probable that he retired in , as it is unlikely that his name should not appear in one or other of the bills. (l.) charles hart. charles hart was the great nephew of shakspeare, his father, william, being the eldest son of our poet's sister joan. brought up as an apprentice under robinson, a celebrated actor, he commenced his career, conformably to the practice of that time, by playing female parts, among which the _duchess_, in shirley's tragedy of the "cardinal," was the first that exhibited his talents, or enhanced his reputation. puritanism having gathered great strength, opposed theatrical amusements as vicious and profane institutions, which it was at length enabled to abolish and suppress. on the th day of february, ,[ ] and the subsequent d of october, two ordinances were issued by the long parliament, whereby all stage-players were made liable to punishment for following their usual occupation. before the appearance of this severe edict, most of the actors had gone into the army, and fought with distinguished spirit for their unfortunate master; when, however, his fate was determined, the surviving dependants on the drama were compelled to renew their former efforts, in pursuance of which they returned, just before the death of charles, to act a few plays at the "cockpit" theatre, where, while performing the tragedy of "rollo," they were taken into custody by soldiers, and committed to prison.[ ] upon this occasion, hart, who had been a lieutenant of horse, under sir thomas dallison, in prince rupert's own regiment, sustained the character of _otto_, a part which he afterwards relinquished to kynaston, in exchange for the fierce energies of his ambitious brother. at the restoration, hart was enrolled among the company constituting his majesty's servants, by whom the new theatre royal, drury-lane, was opened on the th of april, , with beaumont and fletcher's play of the "humourous lieutenant," in which he sustained a principal character for twelve days of successive representation. about the year ,[ ] hart introduced mrs. gwyn upon the dramatic boards, and has acquired the distinction of being ranked among that lady's first felicitous lovers, by having succeeded to lacy, in the possession of her charms. nell had been tutored for the stage by these admirers in conjunction, and after testifying her gratitude to both, passed into the hands of lord buckhurst, by whom she was transferred to the custody of king charles the second. the principal parts, according to downes, sustained by mr. hart, were _arbaces_, in "king and no king;" _amintor_, in the "maid's tragedy;" _othello_, _rolla_, _brutus_, and _alexander the great_. such was his attraction in all these characters, that, to use the language of that honest prompter, "if he acted in any one of these but once in a fortnight, the house was filled as at a new play; especially _alexander_, he acting that with such grandeur and agreeable majesty, that one of the court was pleased to honour him with this commendation--'that hart might teach any king on earth how to comport himself.'" his merit has also been specified as _mosca_, in the "fox," _don john_, in the "chances," and _wildblood_, in an "evening's love;" which, however, according to the same authority, merely harmonised with his general efforts, in commanding a vast superiority over the best of his successors. rymer has said that hart's action could throw a lustre round the meanest characters, and, by dazzling the eyes of the spectator, protect the poet's deformities from discernment. he was taller, and more genteelly shaped than mohun, on which account he probably claimed the choice of parts, and was prescriptively invested with the attributes of youth and agility. he possessed a considerable share in the profits and direction of the theatre, which were divided among the principal performers; and besides his salary of £ a week, and an allowance as a proprietor, amounting to six shillings and three-pence a day, is supposed to have occasionally cleared about £ per annum. [on the th of october, , a memorandum was signed between dr. charles davenant, betterton, and smith, of the one part, and hart and kynaston, of the other, by which the two last mentioned, in consideration of five shillings each for every day on which there shall be a play at the duke's theatre, undertake to do all they can to break up the king's company. the result of this agreement was the union of . this agreement is given in gildon's "life of betterton" (p. ), and in genest (i. ). i suppose it is a genuine document, but i confess to some doubts, based chiefly on my belief that betterton was too honest to enter into so shabby an intrigue.] declining age had rendered hart less fit for exertion than in the vigour of life, and certain of the young actors, such as goodman and clark, became impatient to get possession of his and mohun's characters. a violent affliction, however, of the stone and gravel, compelled him to relinquish his professional efforts, and having stipulated for the payment of five shillings a-day, during the season,[ ] he retired from the stage, and died a short time after. hart was always esteemed a constant observer of decency in manners, and the following anecdote will evince his respect for the clergy. that witty, but abandoned fellow, jo haynes, had persuaded a silly divine, into whose company he had unaccountably fallen, that the players were a set of people, who wished to be reformed, and wanted a chaplain to the theatre, an appointment for which, with a handsome yearly income, he could undertake to recommend him. he then directed the clergyman to summon his hearers, by tolling a bell to prayers every morning, a scheme, in pursuance of which haynes introduced his companion, with a bell in his hand, behind the scenes, which he frequently rang, and cried out, audibly, "players! players! come to prayers!" while jo and some others were enjoying this happy contrivance, hart came into the theatre, and, on discovering the imposition, was extremely angry with haynes, whom he smartly reprehended, and having invited the clergyman to dinner, convinced him that this buffoon was an improper associate for a man of his function.[ ] michael mohun. the life of michael mohun, though passed in its early stages beneath a different teacher, was chequered by the very shades which distinguished that of hart, with whom he acquired his military distinctions, and reverted to a theatrical life. he was brought up with shatterel, under beeston, at the "cock-pit," in drury-lane, where, in shirley's play of "love's cruelty," he sustained the part of _bellamente_, among other female characters,[ ] and held it even after the restoration. having attained the rank of captain in the royal forces, mohun went to flanders upon the termination of the civil war, where he received pay as a major, and acquitted himself with distinguished credit. at the restoration, he resumed his pristine duties, and became an able second to hart, with whom he was equally admired for superlative knowledge of his arduous profession. he is celebrated by lord rochester, as the great Æsopus of the stage; praise, which, though coming from one of so capricious a temper, may be relied on, since it is confirmed by more respectable testimony. he was particularly remarkable for the dignity of his deportment, and the elegance of his step, which mimics, said his lordship, attempted to imitate, though they could not reach the sublimity of his elocution. the duke's comedians, it would seem, endeavoured to emulate his manner, when reduced by age and infirmity, a baseness which the same noble observer has thus warmly reprehended:-- yet these are they, who durst expose the age of the great wonder of the english stage. whom nature seem'd to form for your delight, and bid him speak, as she bid shakespeare write. these blades indeed are cripples in their art, mimick his foot, but not his speaking part. let them the _traytor_ or _volpone_ try, could they rage like _cethegus_, or like _cassius_ die? (epilogue to fane's "love in the dark.") mohun, from his inferior height and muscular form, generally acted grave, solemn, austere parts, though upon more than one occasion, as in _valentine_, in "wit without money," and _face_, in the "alchemist,"--one of his most capital characters,--he was frequently seen in gay and buoyant assumptions to great advantage. he was singularly eminent as _melantius_, in the "maid's tragedy;" _mardonius_, in "king and no king;" _clytus_, _mithridates_, and the parts alluded to by lord rochester. no man had more skill in putting spirit and passion into the dullest poetry than mohun, an excellence with which lee was so delighted, that on seeing him act his own king of pontus, he suddenly exclaimed, "o, mohun, mohun, thou little man of mettle, if i should write a hundred plays, i'd write a part for thy mouth!" and yet lee himself was so exquisite a reader, that mohun once threw down a part in despair of approaching the force of the author's expression. the "tatler" has adverted to his singular science;[ ] "in all his parts, too," says downes, "he was most accurate and correct;" and perhaps no encomium can transcend the honours of unbroken propriety. about the year , there are some reasons to suspect that the king's company was divided by feuds and animosities, which their adversaries in dorset-garden so well improved, as to produce an union of the separate patents. hart and kynaston were dexterously detached from their old associates, by the management of betterton, whose conduct, though grounded upon maxims of policy, can derive no advantage from so unfair an expedient. upon the completion of this nefarious treaty, mohun, who found means to retain the services of kynaston, with the remnant of the royal company, continued to act in defiance of the junction just concluded, as an independent body. downes, in his "roscius anglicanus," so far as the imperfect structure of its sentences can be relied on, expressly asserts this; and yet if "the patentees of each company united patents, and, by so incorporating, the duke's company were made the king's, and immediately removed to the theatre royal in drury-lane," what field did mohun and his followers select for their operations, to pitch their tents, and hoist their standard? till some period, at least, of the year , this party were in possession of their antient domicile, as mohun at that time, acted _burleigh_, in banks's "unhappy favourite," and sustained a principal character in southern's "loyal brother," with, for his heroine, in both pieces, the famous nell gwyn.[ ] [bellchambers is here very inaccurate. the union of was, no doubt, opposed by some of the king's company, from november, , when the memorandum between davenant, betterton, hart, and others, was executed, and the date of the actual conclusion of the union. this is clearly indicated in dryden's prologue on the opening of drury lane by the united company on th november, . but, whatever the opposition had been, it had ceased then, because in the cast of the "duke of guise," produced less than three weeks later, appear the names of kynaston and wiltshire, whom bellchambers represents as supporting mohun in his supposed opposition theatre. (l.)] cardell goodman. cardell goodman, according to his own admissions, as detailed by cibber elsewhere, was expelled the university of cambridge, for certain political reasons, a disgrace, however, which did not disqualify him for the stage. he came upon it, accordingly, by repairing to drury-lane theatre, where downes has recorded [what was probably] his first appearance, as _polyperchon_, in the "rival queens," to. . here, although we cannot trace his success in any character of importance, mr. cibber has adverted to his rapid advances in reputation. he followed the fortunes of mohun in opposing the united actors, but, about three years afterwards, resorted to them, (in ,) and sustained the hero of lord rochester's "valentinian." it is about this period that his excellence must have blazed out as _alexander the great_, since cibber, who went upon the stage in , says goodman had retired before the time of his appearance. the highest salary enjoyed at that period we are now treating of, was six shillings and three pence per diem, a stipend that was by no means equal to the strong passions and large appetites of a gay, handsome, inconsiderate young fellow. he was consequently induced to commit a robbery on the highway, and sentenced upon detection, to make a summary atonement for his fatal error; but this being the first exploit of that kind to which the scantiness of his income had urged him, king james was persuaded to pardon him, a favour for which goodman was so grateful, that, in the year , he shared with sir john fenwick in a design to assassinate king william, who spared his life in consideration of the testimony he was to render against his accomplice. this condition, however, goodman did not fulfil, as he withdrew clandestinely to the continent, to avoid giving evidence, and died in exile. having been selected as a fit instrument for her abandoned pleasures by the duchess of cleveland, goodman, long before his death, became so happy in his circumstances, that he acted only at intervals, when his titled mistress most probably desired to see him; for he used to say, he would not even act _alexander_, unless his duchess were in front to witness the performance. richard estcourt. richard estcourt, according to the biographical notice of chetwood, was born at tewksbury, in glostershire, in the year , and received a competent education at the latin grammar-school of his native town. influenced by an early attachment to the stage, he left his father's house, in the fifteenth year of his age, with an itinerant company, and on reaching worcester, to elude the possibility of detection, made his first appearance as _roxana_, in the "rival queens." having received a correct intimation of this theatrical purpose, his father sent to secure the fugitive, who slipped away in a suit of woman's clothes, borrowed from one of his kind-hearted companions, and travelled to chipping-norton, a distance of five-and-twenty miles, in the course of the day. to prevent such excursions for the future, he was quickly carried up to london, and apprenticed to an apothecary in hatton-garden, with whom, according to some authorities, he continued till the expiration of his indentures, and duly entered into business; which, either from want of liking or success he soon afterwards renounced, and returned to his favourite avocation.[ ] chetwood, on the contrary, asserts that he broke away from his master's authority, and after strolling about england for two years, went over to dublin, where his performances were sanctioned by ardent and universal applause. about the opening of the eighteenth century [that is, th october, ], mr. estcourt was engaged at drury-lane theatre, where he made his débût as _dominic_, in the "spanish friar," and established his efforts, it is said, by a close imitation of leigh, the original possessor of that part. in the year [should be ], such was his merit or reputation, that farquhar selected him for _sergeant kite_, in the "recruiting officer," a character to which downes has alluded in terms of unqualified praise. it is asserted in the "biographia dramatica," that mr. estcourt was "mostly indebted for his applause to his powers of mimicry, in which he was inimitable; and which not only at times afforded him opportunities of appearing a much better actor than he really was,--by enabling him to copy very exactly several performers of capital merit, whose manner he remembered and assumed,--but also, by recommending him to a very numerous acquaintance in private life, secured him an indulgence for faults in his public profession, that he might otherwise, perhaps, never have been pardoned." as if an actor, in defiance of peculiar incapacity, associated emulation, and public disgust, could maintain, for twelve successive years, the very highest station in the drury-lane company, attainable by talents, such as he was only flattered with possessing! that estcourt was happy in a "very numerous acquaintance," there is no reason to conceal or deny. he was remarkable for the promptitude of his wit, and the permanence of his pleasantry, qualifications that recommended him to the most cordial intercourse with addison, steele, parnell, who has honoured him in a bacchanalian poem, by the name of jocus, and other choice spirits of the age, who enjoyed the variety of his talents, and acknowledged the goodness of his heart. he was highly in favour with the great duke of marlborough, but those who know his grace's character, will hardly be surprised to learn that he did not improve his fortune by that dazzling distinction. estcourt's honours, indeed, were strictly nominal, for though constituted providore of the beef-steak club,--an assemblage comprising the chief wits and greatest men of the nation,--he gained nothing by the office but their badge of employment,--a small golden gridiron, suspended from his neck by a bit of green riband. if the foregoing remarks should be held sufficient to redeem his dramatic character from the obloquy with which it has so long been attended, the following anecdote will perhaps be accepted as ample evidence of his great talent for private mimicry. secretary craggs, when very young, in company with some of his friends, went, with estcourt, to sir godfrey kneller's, and whispered to him that a gentleman present was able to give such a representation of many among his most powerful patrons, as would occasion the greatest surprise. estcourt accordingly, at the artist's earnest desire, mimicked lords somers, halifax, godolphin, and others, so exactly, that kneller was delighted, and laughed heartily at the imitations. craggs gave a signal, as concerted, and estcourt immediately mimicked sir godfrey himself, who cried out in a transport of ungovernable conviction, "nay, there you are out, man! by g--, that's not me!" about a twelvemonth before his death, having retired from the stage, estcourt opened the bumper tavern, in covent-garden, and by enlarging his acquaintance, most probably shortened his days. he died in the year [should be ], and was buried near his brother comedian, jo haynes, in the church-yard of st. paul's, covent-garden. thomas betterton. thomas betterton was born in tothill-street, westminster, in the year [baptized th august, ], his father at that time being under-cook to king charles the first. he received the rudiments of a genteel education, and testified such a propensity to literature, that it was the steadfast intention of his family to have had him qualified for some congenial employment. this design, the confusion and violence of the times most probably prevented, though a fondness for reading induced them to consult his inclinations, and he was accordingly apprenticed to mr. rhodes, a respectable bookseller, residing at the bible, in charing-cross. this person, who had been wardrobe-keeper to the theatre in blackfriars, before the suppression of dramatic amusements, on general monk's approach to london, in the year , obtained a license from the [governing powers] to collect a company of actors, and employ them at the "cockpit," in drury-lane. here, while kynaston, his fellow-apprentice, sustained the principal female parts, betterton was distinguished by the vigour and elegance of his manly personations. the fame of beaumont and fletcher was then at its zenith, and in their plays of the "loyal subject," and the "mad lover," added to "pericles," the "bondman," and the "changeling," mr. betterton established the groundwork of his great reputation. sir william d'avenant having been favoured with a patent before the civil wars broke out, obtained a renewal of that royal grant upon the restoration, and in the spring of [should be june, ], after rehearsing various plays at apothecaries'-hall, he opened a new theatre in lincoln's-inn-fields, where rhodes's comedians, with the addition of harris, and three others, were sworn before the lord chamberlain, as servants of the crown, and honoured by the sanction of the duke of york. here sir william d'avenant produced his "siege of rhodes," a play in two parts, embellished with such scenery and decorations as had never been before exhibited on the boards of a british theatre. the parts were strongly cast, and this drama, assisted by its splendid appendages, was represented for twelve days, successively, with unbounded approbation. at this period mr. betterton first assumed the part of _hamlet_, deriving considerable advantage from the hints of sir william d'avenant, to whom the acting of taylor [who had been instructed by shakespeare] had been formerly familiar. downes expressly declares that this character enhanced mr. betterton's reputation to the utmost, and there is much collateral evidence to substantiate its brilliant superiority.[ ] mr. betterton was so favourably considered by charles the second, that, upon his performance of _alvaro_, in "love and honour," he received that monarch's coronation-suit for the character, as a token of esteem. public opinion kept pace with his efforts to secure it, and by evincing unparalleled talent in such diversified parts as _mercutio_, _sir toby belch_, and _henry the eighth_, (the last of which was adopted from his manager's remembrance of lowin) he speedily attained to that eminence in his art, above which no human exertion can probably ascend. at the king's especial command, it has been asserted by some of his biographers that mr. betterton went over to paris to take a view of the french stage, and suggest such means as might ensure a corresponding improvement upon our own. they even go so far as to term him the first who publicly introduced our moving scenes, though sir william d'avenant, to whom that honour decidedly belongs, had attached them, less perfectly, perhaps, in , to his "cruelty of the spaniards in peru." by or before , mr. betterton had married mrs. saunderson, a performer in the same company, of matchless merit and unsullied virtue, though that event, by the "biographia dramatica," and other incautious compilations, is referred to the year . this lady, it may be remarked, was single, while denominated mistress; the appellation of miss not being made familiar to the middle classes, till after the commencement of the ensuing century. the duke's company, notwithstanding the favour and excellence to which betterton, harris, smith, and other members were admitted, began to feel its want of attraction so forcibly, that sir william d'avenant was induced to try the effects of a new theatre, which was accordingly opened, with unparalleled magnificence, in dorset-garden, salisbury-court, notwithstanding an earnest opposition by the city of london, in november, . opinion, however, still inclining to their antagonists, dramatic operas were invented, and soon enabled the players at this place to achieve a triumph over merit unassisted by such expensive frivolity. at the death of d'avenant, on the th of april, , mr. betterton succeeded to a portion of the management, and so great was the estimation in which both he and his lady were held, that in the year , when a pastoral, called "calisto; or, the chaste nymph," written by mr. crown, at the request of king charles's consort, was to be performed at court by persons of the greatest distinction, they were appointed to instruct them in their respective parts. in , an union was effected with the rival company, which mr. betterton continued to direct, till rich, in , obtained possession of the patent, and dispossessed him of importance and authority. exasperated by ill treatment, mr. betterton confederated with the principal performers to procure an independent license, which being granted by king william, they built a new theatre in lincoln's-inn-fields, by subscription, and opened it on the th of april, , with congreve's comedy of "love for love." in , enfeebled by age and infirmity, this distinguished veteran transferred his license to sir john vanbrugh, who erected a handsome theatre in the haymarket, at which, divested of influence or control, he accepted an engagement as an actor. mr. betterton's salary never exceeded eighty shillings a-week, and having sustained the loss of more than £ , , by a commercial venture to the east indies, in , necessity compelled him to pursue his professional avocations. on thursday, april the th, ,[ ] the play of "love for love" was performed for his benefit, an occasion which summoned mrs. barry and mrs. bracegirdle from their retirement, to aid this antient coadjutor by the resumption of those parts they had originally sustained. congreve is said to have furnished a prologue, though withdrawn and never submitted to print, which was delivered by the latter lady, the former reciting an epilogue from the pen of rowe, which remains in lasting testimony of his affectionate regard. from this address the following lines are worthy of transcription: but since, like friends to wit, thus throng'd you meet, go on, and make the generous work complete; be true to merit, and still own his cause, find something for him more than bare applause. in just remembrance of your pleasures past, be kind and give him a discharge at last; in peace and ease life's remnant let him wear, and hang his consecrated buskin here. this hint, however, proved unavailing, and "old thomas" still continued to labour, when permitted by intermissions of disease, for that subsistence his age and his services should long before have secured. mr. betterton accordingly performed at intervals in the course of the ensuing winter, and on the th of april, [should be th april], was admitted to another benefit, which, with the patronage bestowed upon its predecessor, is supposed to have netted nearly £ . upon this occasion, he was announced for his celebrated part of _melantius_, in the "maid's tragedy," from the performance of which he ought, however, upon strict consideration, to have been deterred; for having been suddenly seized with the gout, a determination not to disappoint the expectancy of his friends, induced him to employ a repellatory medicine, which lessened the swelling of his feet, and permitted him to walk in slippers. he acted, accordingly, with peculiar spirit, and was received with universal applause; but such were the fatal effects of his laudable anxiety, that the distemper returned with unusual violence, ascended to his head, and terminated his existence, in three days from the date of this fatal assumption. on the nd of may his remains were deposited with much form in the cloisters of westminster-abbey. mr. betterton was celebrated for polite behaviour to the dramatic writers of his time, and distinguished by singular modesty, in not presuming to understand the chief points of any character they offered him, till their ideas had been asked, and, if possible, adopted. he is also praised in some verses published with the "state poems," for extending pecuniary assistance to embarrassed writers, till the success of a doubtful production might enable them to remunerate their generous creditor. indeed, mr. betterton's benevolence was coupled with such magnanimity, that upon the death of that unhappy friend to whose counsels his little fortune had been sacrificed, he took charge of a surviving daughter, educated her at considerable expense, and not only made her an accomplished actress, but a valuable woman.[ ] among many testimonies of deference to his judgment, and regard for his zeal, the tributes of dryden and rowe have been brilliantly recorded. he was naturally of a cheerful temper, with a pious reliance upon the dispensations of providence, and nothing can yield a higher idea of his great affability, than the effect his behaviour produced upon pope, who must have been a mere boy, when first admitted to his society. he sat to the poet for his picture, which pope painted in oil,[ ] and so eager was the bard to perpetuate his memory, that he published a modernization of chaucer's "prologues," in this venerable favourite's name, though palpably the produce of his own elegant pen.[ ] as an author, mr. betterton's labours were confined to the drama, and if his original pieces are not entitled to much praise, his alterations exhibit some judicious amendments. edward kynaston. edward kynaston made his first appearance in , at the "cockpit" in drury-lane, under the management of rhodes, to whom, in his trade of bookselling, he had previously been apprenticed. here he took the lead in personating female parts, among which he sustained _calis_, in the "mad lover;" _ismenia_, in the "maid in the mill;" the heroine of sir john suckling's "aglaura;" _arthiope_, in the "unfortunate lovers;" and _evadne_, in the "maid's tragedy." the three last of these parts have been distinguished by downes and our author as the best of his efforts, and being then but a "mannish youth," he made a suitable representative of feminine beauty. kynaston's _forte_, at this period, appears to have consisted in moving compassion and pity, "in which," says old downes, "it has since been disputable among the judicious, whether any woman that succeeded him so sensibly touched the audience as he." at the restoration, when his majesty's servants re-opened the "red bull" playhouse, in st. john-street, next shifted to gibbons's tennis-court, in clare-market, and finally settled, in , at their new theatre in drury-lane, kynaston was admitted to their ranks, and played _peregrine_, in jonson's comedy of the "fox." he also held _sir dauphine_, a minor personage, in the same author's "silent woman," and soon after succeeded to _otto_, in the "duke of normandy," a part which was followed by others of variety and importance. in derogation of cibber's panegyric, we are assured by davies, upon the authority of some old comedians, that, from his juvenile familiarity with female characters, kynaston contracted some disagreeable tones in speaking, which resembled the whine or cant that genuine taste has at all times been impelled to explode. when george powel was once discharging the intemperance of a recent debauch from his stomach, kynaston asked him if he still felt sick. "how is it possible to be otherwise," said powel, "when i hear you speak?" much as kynaston, however, might have been affected by the peculiarities of early practice, we cannot consent, upon evidence such as this, to rob him of the laurels that have sprung from respectable testimony. in he followed the fortunes of betterton to lincoln's-inn-fields, and supported a considerable character in john banks's "cyrus the great," produced the year after this removal. the time of his retirement is not known, but it appears from our author that he continued upon the stage till his memory and spirit both began to fail him. he had left it, however, before , when betterton and underhill have been specified by downes, as "being the only remains of the duke of york's servants," at that time before the public. kynaston died wealthy, and was buried in the church-yard of st. paul's, covent-garden. kynaston bore a great resemblance to the noted sir charles sidley, a similitude of which he was so proud, that he endeavoured to display it by the most particular expedients. on one occasion, he got a suit of laced clothes made in imitation of the baronet's, and appearing publicly in it, sir charles, whose wit very seldom atoned for his ill-nature, punished this vain propensity in his usual mischievous manner. he hired a bravo to accost kynaston in the park, one day when he wore his finery, pick a quarrel with him on account of a pretended affront from his prototype, and beat him unmercifully. this scheme was duly put in practice, and though kynaston protested that he was not the person his antagonist took him for, the ruffian redoubled his blows, on account of what he affected to consider his scandalous falsehood. when sir charles sidley was remonstrated with upon the cruelty of this transaction, he told the actor's friends that their pity was misplaced, for that kynaston had not suffered so much in his bones as _he_ had in his character, the whole town believing that it was he who had undergone the disgrace of this chastisement. william mountfort. william mountfort, according to cibber's estimate, was born in , and having, i suppose, joined the king's company at a very early age, about the year , "grew," in the words of old downes, "to the maturity of a good actor." at drury-lane theatre, he sustained _alfonso corso_, in the "duke of guise," in . his rise was so rapid, that in we find him selected for the hero of crowne's "sir courtly nice," "which," says downes, "was so _nicely_ performed," that none of his successors, but colley cibber, could equal him. perhaps the last new character assumed by mountfort was _cleanthes_, in dryden's "cleomenes," a play to which he spoke the prologue. i here present the reader with a narrative of those circumstances attending the death of mountfort, which have so long been misunderstood and misrepresented. a captain richard hill had made proposals of marriage to mrs. bracegirdle, which were declined from what hill appeared to consider an injurious preference for mountfort, between whom, though a married man, and the lady, at least a platonic attachment was often thought to subsist. enraged at mountfort's superior success, and affecting to treat him as the only obstacle to his wishes, hill expressed a determination at various times, and before several persons, to be revenged upon him, and as it was proved upon the trial, coupled this threat with some of the bitterest invectives that could spring from brutal animosity. among hill's associates was lord mohun, a peer of very dissolute manners, whose extreme youth afforded but a faint palliative for his participation in the act of violence and debauchery to which hill resorted. this nobleman, however, who seems to have felt a chivalric devotion to the interests of his friend, engaged with hill in a cruel and perfidious scheme for the abduction of mrs. bracegirdle, whom hill proposed to carry off, violate, and afterwards marry. they arranged with one dixon, an owner of hackney carriages, to provide a coach and six horses to take them to totteridge, and appointed him to wait with this conveyance over against the horse-shoe tavern in drury-lane. a small party of soldiers was also hired to assist in this notable exploit, and as mrs. bracegirdle, who had been supping at a mr. page's in prince's-street, was going down drury-lane towards her lodgings in howard-street, strand, about ten o'clock at night, on friday the th of december, , two of these soldiers pulled her away from mr. page, who was attending her home, nearly knocked her mother down, and tried to lift her into the vehicle. her mother, upon whom the blow given by these ruffians had providentially made but a short impression, hung very obstinately about her neck, and prevented the success of their endeavours. while mr. page was calling loudly for assistance, hill ran at him with his sword drawn, and again endeavoured to get mrs. bracegirdle into the coach, a task he was hindered from accomplishing, by the alarm that page had successfully given. company came up, on which hill insisted on seeing mrs. bracegirdle home, and actually led her by the hand to the house in which she resided. lord mohun, who during this scuffle was seated quietly in the coach, joined hill in howard-street, the soldiers having been previously dismissed, and there they paraded, with their swords drawn, for about an hour and a half, before mrs. bracegirdle's door. hill's scabbard, it ought to be remarked, was clearly proved to have been lost during the scuffle in drury-lane, and lord mohun, when challenged by the watch, not only sheathed his weapon, but offered to surrender it. these were strong points at least in his lordship's favour, and deserve to be noted, because the prescriptive assertion that mountfort was treacherously killed, is weakened by the establishment of those facts. mrs. brown, the mistress of the house where mrs. bracegirdle lodged, went out on her arrival, to expostulate with lord mohun and his confederate, and after exchanging a few words of no particular importance, dispatched her maid servant to mountfort's house,[ ] hard by in norfolk-street, to apprise mrs. mountfort of the danger to which, in case of coming home, he would be subjected. mrs. mountfort sent in search of her husband, but without success, and the watch on going their round, between eleven and twelve o'clock, found lord mohun and hill drinking wine in the street, a drawer having brought it from an adjacent tavern. at this juncture mrs. brown, the landlady, hearing the voices of the watch, went to the door with a design of directing them to secure both lord mohun and hill, and some conversation passed upon that subject, although her directions were not obeyed. seeing mountfort, just as he had turned the corner into howard-street, and was apparently coming towards her house, mrs. brown hurried out to meet him, and mention his danger, but he would not stop, so as to allow her time for the slightest communication. on gaining the spot where lord mohun stood, hill being a little farther off, he saluted his lordship with great respect, and was received by him with unequivocal kindness. lord mohun hinted to mountfort that he had been sent for by mrs. bracegirdle, in consequence of her projected seizure, a charge which mountfort immediately denied. lord mohun then touched upon the affair, and mountfort expressed a hope, with some warmth, that he would not vindicate hill's share in the business, against which, while disclaiming any tenderness for mrs. bracegirdle, he protested with much asperity. hill approached in time to catch the substance of mountfort's remark, and having hastily said that he could vindicate himself, gave him a blow on the ear, and at the same moment a challenge to fight. they both went from the pavement into the middle of the road, and after making two or three passes at each other, mountfort was mortally wounded. he threw down his sword, which broke by the fall, and staggered to his own house, where mrs. page, who had gone to concert with mrs. mountfort for her husband's safety, hearing a cry of "murder" in the street, threw open the door, and received him pale, bleeding, and exhausted, in her arms. hill fled and escaped, but lord mohun, having surrendered himself, was arraigned before parliament as an accomplice, on the st of january, , and, after a laborious, patient, protracted, and impartial trial, acquitted of the crime, in which he certainly bore no conspicuous part. mountfort languished till noon the next day, and solemnly declared, at the very point of death, that hill stabbed him with one hand while he struck him with the other, lord mohun holding him in conversation when the murder was committed. from the fact, however, of mountfort's sword being taken up unsheathed and broken, there is no doubt, without insisting upon the testimony to that effect, that he used it; and that he could have used it after receiving the desperate wound of which he died, does not appear, by his flight and exhaustion, to have been possible. some of his fellow-players, it seems, had sifted the evidence of a material witness, the day after his death, and at this evidence they openly expressed their dissatisfaction. mountfort, it was indisputably shown, too, _went out of the way to his own house_, in going down howard-street at all, as he ought to have crossed it, his door being the second from the south-west corner. these circumstances will perhaps support a conjecture that some part of the odium heaped upon lord mohun and hill has proceeded from the cowardice and exasperation of a timid and vindictive fraternity, coupled with the individual artifices of mrs. bracegirdle, to redeem a character which the real circumstances of mountfort's death, dying as her champion, severely affected. cibber's assurance of her purity, may merely prove the extent of his dulness or dissimulation, for on calmly reviewing this case in all its aspects, chequered as it is by hill's impetuosity, mrs. bracegirdle's lewdness, and mountfort's presumption, i cannot help inferring that he fell a victim, not unfairly, to one of those casual encounters which mark the general violence of the times. the record of his murder is therefore erroneous, and we may hope to see it amended in every future collection of theatrical lives.[ ] samuel sandford. samuel sandford made his first appearance upon the stage, under d'avenant's authority, in the year ,[ ] at the time when that company was strengthened by the accession of smith and matthew medbourn. the first part for which he has been mentioned by downes, is _sampson_, in "romeo and juliet;" he soon after sustained a minor part in the "adventures of five hours," fol. ; and when d'avenant produced his comedy of the "man's the master," he and harris sung an eccentric epilogue in the character of two street ballad-singers. sandford was the original _foresight_, in "love for love," and though mr. cibber has exclusively insisted upon his tragic excellence, he must have been a comedian of strong and diversified humour. when betterton and his associates seceded to the new theatre in lincoln's-inn-fields, he refused to join them as a sharer, but was engaged at a salary of three pounds per week. as sandford is not enumerated by downes among the actors transferred to swiney, in the latter end of , when betterton and underhill, indeed, are mentioned as "the only remains" of the duke's company, it is clear he must have died during the previous six years, having been referred to by cibber, as exercising his profession in . his ancestors were long and respectably settled at sandford, a village in shropshire; and he seems to have prided himself, absurdly, upon the superiority of his birth. james nokes. james nokes formed part of the company collected at the "cockpit," in , and is first mentioned by downes for _norfolk_, in "king henry the eighth," some time after d'avenant's opening in lincoln's-inn-fields. upon this assumption mr. davies has expressed a very reasonable doubt, and conjectured, with much plausibility, that it was sustained by robert nokes. in cowley's "cutter of coleman-street" [ ], the part of _puny_ was allotted to nokes, whose reputation at that period appears to have been but feebly established, as the more important comic characters were intrusted to lovel and underhill. we find the name of nokes affixed to _lovis_, in etherege's "comical revenge," , but his performance of that part, whatever merit it might have evinced, acquired no distinction. [this is wrong; nokes played sir nicholas cully: the part of lovis was acted by norris.] the plague then beginning to rage, theatrical exhibitions were suspended, in may, , and the company ceased to act, on account of the great fire, till [about] christmas, , when their occupation was resumed in lincoln's-inn-fields, and lord orrery produced his play of "mr. anthony." in this piece there was an odd sort of duel between nokes and angel, in which one was armed with a blunderbuss, and the other with a bow and arrow. though this frivolous incident procured nokes some accession of public notice, it was dryden's "sir martin mar-all," [ ,] which developed his powers to their fullest extent, and raised him to the highest pitch of popularity. according to downes, the duke of newcastle gave a literal translation of molière's "etourdi" to dryden, who adapted the part of _sir martin mar-all_ "purposely for the mouth of mr. nokes;" and the old prompter has corroborated mr. cibber's assertion of his success. nokes added largely to his reputation, in [ ], by performing _sir oliver_, in "she would if she could;" and strengthened shadwell's "sullen lovers," by accepting the part of _poet ninny_. nokes acted _barnaby brittle_ at the original appearance--about --of betterton's "amorous widow," and [in ] performed _old jorden_, in ravenscroft's "citizen turned gentleman," a part which the king and court were said to have been more delighted with than any other, except _sir martin mar-all_. his _nurse_, in "caius marius," , excited such uncommon merriment, that he carried the name of nurse nokes to his grave. in , he supported the hero of shadwell's "'squire of alsatia," a play which was acted in every part with remarkable excellence, and enjoyed the greatest popularity. we find no farther mention of him, subsequent to this period, though included by cibber among those who were performing under the united patents, in , when he first came into the company. according to brown, who has peculiarly marked out his "gaiety and openness" upon the stage, he kept a "nicknackatory, or toy-shop," opposite the spot which has since received the denomination of exeter change. the date of his death is uncertain, but there is some reason to presume that it happened about the year .[ ] william pinkethman. the first mention of pinkethman, by downes, is for the part of _ralph_, in "sir salomon," when commanded at court, in the beginning of [ ], but he had been alluded to, two years before, in gildon's "comparison between the two stages," as the "flower of bartholomew-fair, and the idol of the rabble. a fellow that overdoes every thing, and spoils many a part with his own stuff." [he was on the stage as early as .] he is again mentioned in the "roscius anglicanus" for _dr. caius_, in the "merry wives of windsor," and continued to act in the drury-lane company till his death, about the year . pinkethman was a serviceable actor, notwithstanding his irregularities, and performed many characters of great importance. he was the original _don lewis_, in "love makes a man," , a proof that his talents were soon and greatly appreciated. his eccentric turn led him, in too many instances, from the sphere of respectability, and we find him in the constant habit of frequenting fairs, for the low purpose of theatrical exhibition. his stage talents were marred, it is true, by an extravagant habit of saying more than had been "set down" for him; and though this abominable blemish is fully admitted, still its toleration proves that pinkethman must have been an actor of uncommon value. his son was a comedian of merit, who played _waitwell_, in the "way of the world," at the opening of covent-garden theatre, in december, , and died in may, . anthony leigh. the "famous mr. anthony leigh," as downes denominates him, came into the duke's company, about the year [ ], upon the deaths of several eminent actors, whose places he and others were admitted to supply. he played _bellair_, _sen_., in etherege's "man of mode," at its production in . in , leigh supported _father dominic_, in dryden's "spanish friar;" a piece, which, according to the "roscius anglicanus," was "admirably acted, and produced vast profit to the company." leigh's success was so great in this character, that a full-length portrait was taken of him in his clerical habit, by sir godfrey kneller, for the earl of dorset, from which a good mezzotinto engraving is now in the hands of theatrical collectors. in , we find him allotted to _sir nicholas calico_, in "sir courtly nice;" in he supported _sir william belfond_, in shadwell's "squire of alsatia," and these parts, with a few others, appear to have constituted his peculiar excellence. the satirical allusions of such a random genius as brown, are rarely to be relied upon, or we might suspect leigh, from the following extract, to have been distinguished by pious hypocrisy:-- "at last, my friend nokes, pointing to a little edifice, which exactly resembles dr. burgess's conventicle in russel-court, says he, 'your old acquaintance tony leigh, who turned presbyterian parson upon his coming into these quarters, holds forth most notably here every sunday.'"--"letters from the dead to the living" [ , ii. ]. cave underhill. cave underhill was a member of the company collected by rhodes, and which, soon afterwards, submitted to the authority of sir william d'avenant. he is first mentioned by downes, for his performance of _sir morglay thwack_, in the "wits," after which he sustained the _grave-digger_, in "hamlet," and soon testified such ability, that the manager publicly termed him "the truest comedian" at that time upon his stage.[ ] underhill, about this time, strengthened the cast of "romeo and juliet," by playing _gregory_, and though the custom of devoting the best talent which the theatres afford, to parts of minor importance, has ceased, it is a practice to which the managers, were public amusement consulted, might safely recur. in shakspeare's "twelfth night," which, says downes, "had mighty success by its well performance," underhill soon after supported the _clown_, a character in which the latter attributes delineated by cibber, could alone have been employed. underhill's reputation appears to have been speedily established, as we find him intrusted by cowley, in [ ], with the hero of his "cutter of coleman-street;" and he is mentioned by downes for especial excellence in performing _jodelet_, in d'avenant's "man's the master." his first new part after the accession of james, was _hothead_, in "sir courtly nice;" on the th of april, , he distinguished himself by his chaste and spirited performance of _sir sampson legend_, in congreve's "love for love," and in , closed a long, arduous, and popular career of original parts, by playing _sir wilful witwou'd_, in the "way of the world." [he continued on the stage till .] a brief account of this valuable comedian has been furnished by mr. davies, which, for the satisfaction of our readers, we shall proceed to transcribe. "underhill was a jolly and droll companion, who, if we may believe such historians as tom brown, divided his gay hours between bacchus and venus, with no little ardour. tom, i think, makes underhill one of the gill-drinkers of his time; men who resorted to taverns, in the middle of the day, under pretence of drinking bristol milk, (for so good sherry was then called) to whet their appetites, where they indulged themselves too often in ebriety. underhill acted till he was past eighty. he was so excellent in the part of trinculo, in the tempest, that he was called prince trinculo.[ ] he had an admirable vein of pleasantry, and told his lively stories, says brown, with a bewitching smile. the same author says, he was so afflicted with the gout, that he prayed one minute and cursed the other. his shambling gait, in his old age, was no hindrance to his acting particular parts. he retired from the theatre in ."--"dram. misc.," iii. . on the st of may, , underhill applied for a benefit, and procured it, upon which occasion he played his favourite part of the _grave-digger_, and received the following cordial recommendation from sir richard steele:-- "my chief business here [will's coffee house] this evening, was to speak to my friends in behalf of honest cave underhill, who has been a comic for three generations; my father admired him extremely when he was a boy. there is certainly nature excellently represented in his manner of action; in which he ever avoided that general fault in players, of doing too much. it must be confessed, he has not the merit of some ingenious persons now on the stage, of adding to his authors; for the actors were so dull in the last age, that many of them have gone out of the world, without having ever spoken one word of their own in the theatre. poor cave is so mortified, that he quibbles and tells you, he pretends only to act a part fit for a man who has one foot in the grave; _viz._ a _grave-digger_. all admirers of true comedy, it is hoped, will have the gratitude to be present on the last day of his acting, who, if he does not happen to please them, will have it then to say, that it is the first time."--"tatler," no. . george powell. the father of george powell was an actor in the king's company at the time of its junction, in , with the duke's. powell's access to the theatre was, therefore, easy; and we are intitled to suspect, though the time is not to be ascertained, that he began to act at a very early period. even, according to cibber's allowance, when powell was appointed to the principal parts abandoned by betterton and his revolters, they were parts for which, whether serious or comic, he had both elocution and humour. it is remarked by davies,[ ] that cibber "seems to have hated powell," and if so, we have a ready clue to the neglect and asperity with which he has treated him. powell succeeded betterton, it is supposed, in the part of _hotspur_, when that excellent comedian exchanged its choleric attributes, in his declining years, for the gaiety and humour of _falstaff_. _edgar_, in "king lear," was also one of his most successful characters, but of this, owing to his irregularities, he was dispossessed by wilks. to such a height, indeed, was the intemperance of this actor carried, that sir john vanbrugh, in his preface to the "relapse," to, , speaking of powell's _worthy_, has exposed it in following manner: one word more about the bawdy, and i have done. i own the first night this thing was acted, some indecencies had like to have happened; but it was not my fault. the fine gentleman of the play, drinking his mistress's health in nantes brandy, from six in the morning to the time he waddled on upon the stage in the evening, had toasted himself up to such a pitch of vigour, i confess i once gave up _amanda_ for gone, and am since, with all due respect to mrs. rogers, very sorry she escaped: for i am confident a certain lady, (let no one take it to herself that is handsome) who highly blames the play, for the barrenness of the conclusion, would then have allowed it a very natural close. to the folly of intoxication he added the horrors of debt, and was so hunted by the sheriffs' officers, that he usually walked the streets with a sword (sheathed) in his hand, and if he saw any of them at a distance, he would roar out, "get on the other side of the way, you dog!" the bailiff, who knew his old customer, would obligingly answer, "we do not want you _now_, master powell." harassed by his distresses, and unnerved by drink, it is hardly to be wondered at if his reputation decreased, and his ability slackened; but that his efforts were still marked by a possession of the very highest qualities that criticism can attest, is proved by the following extract from the "spectator:" having spoken of mr. powell as sometimes raising himself applause from the ill taste of an audience, i must do him the justice to own, that he is excellently formed for a tragedian, and, when he pleases, deserves the admiration of the best judges.--no. . addison and steele continued their regard for this unhappy man as long as they could render him any service, and that he acted _portius_, in "cato," on its appearance in , must have been with the author's approbation. the last trace we have of powell is confined to a playbill, for his benefit, in the year , since when no vestige has been found of his career. he lies buried, it has been said, in the vault of st. clement-danes; but though the period of his death may be fixed not far from the date of this document, it cannot be minutely ascertained. [genest says powell died th december, .] in the intervals of excess powell found time for repeated literary labour, having written four plays, and superintended the publication of three more. his fault was too great a passion for social pleasure, but though the irregularities this passion produced, disabled him from exerting the talents he was allowed to possess, still his excellence on the stage is not to be disputed. he was esteemed at one period of his life a rival to betterton, and had the prudence of his conduct been equal to the vigour of his genius, he would have held, as well as reached, that lofty station for which nature had designed him. if the testimony of aston can be relied on, powell was born in the year , being incidentally mentioned by that facetious writer, as betterton's junior by three and twenty years. john verbruggen. john verbruggen, it appears from the assertion of mr. davies, was a dissipated young fellow, who determined, in opposition to the advice of his friends, to be an actor, and accordingly loitered about drury-lane theatre, at the very time when cibber was also endeavouring to get admittance, in expectation of employment. on the death of mountfort, whose widow he married, verbruggen was intrusted, i have no doubt, with the part of _alexander_, his fondness for which was such, that he suffered the players and the public, for many years, to call him by no other name. [he seems to have been called alexander from his first appearing on the stage, till .] it is mentioned in more than one pamphlet, that cibber and verbruggen were at variance, and hence the animosity and unfairness with which the latter has been treated.[ ] the first part to which verbruggen can be traced, is _aurelius_, in "king arthur," to, [he played _termagant_ ("squire of alsatia") in ]: in the year , mr. southern assigned him the character of _oroonoko_, by the special advice of william cavendish, the first duke of devonshire; and as the author informs us in his preface, "it was verbruggen's endeavour, in the performance of that part, to merit the duke's recommendation." a further proof of mr. cibber's partiality, is the constant respect paid to verbruggen by such judges of ability as rowe and congreve, for whose pieces he was uniformly selected. his _mirabel_, in the "way of the world," and _bajazet_, in "tamerlane," were parts of the highest importance, and it will be difficult to show that an ordinary actor could have been intrusted, by writers of equal power and fastidity, with duties of which he was not thoroughly deserving. when verbruggen died it is impossible to ascertain. he played _sullen_, in the "beaux' stratagem," at its production in , and as elrington made his appearance in _bajazet_, in , there is some reason to conclude that verbruggen's death occurred during that interval. [he died before april, .] though gildon, a scribbler whose venality was only exceeded by his dulness, has mentioned verbruggen in the most derogatory terms,[ ] there is ample evidence in the bare record of his business, to justify the most unqualified merit we may incline to ascribe. chetwood alludes to him, in pointing out elrington's imitation of his excellencies, as "a very great actor in tragedy, and polite parts in comedy,"[ ] and the author of the "laureat" enumerates a variety of important characters, in which he commanded universal applause. joseph williams. joseph williams,[ ] who was bred a seal-cutter, came into the duke's company, about the year , when but a boy, and according to the practice of that period, being apprenticed to an eminent actor, "served mr. harris." i find him first mentioned by downes, for _pylades_, in the serious opera of "circe;" his next character of importance being _polydore_, in the "orphan," ; and, same year, _theodosius_, in lee's tragedy of that name. the union in , without diminishing his merit, appears to have lessened his value, by the introduction of kynaston and others, who had more established pretensions to parts of importance. the secession of williams from betterton's company, just before the opening in , has been noticed and explained by mr. cibber, in a subsequent passage. greatly, as i have no doubt, he has depreciated the merit of this actor, no materials remain of a more recent date than those already quoted, by which we may conjecture his talents, or enforce his estimation. williams is not to be confounded with an actor of the same appellation, who was at drury-lane theatre in the year , and relieved cibber of _scipio_, in thomson's "sophonisba," a curious account of which is given in the "dramatic miscellanies." elizabeth barry. elizabeth barry, it is said, was the daughter of edward barry, esq., a barrister, who was afterwards called colonel barry, from his having raised a regiment for the service of charles the first, in the course of the civil wars. the misfortunes arising from this engagement, involved him in such distress, that his children were obliged to provide for their own maintenance. lady d'avenant, a relation of the noted laureat, from her friendship to colonel barry, gave this daughter a genteel education, and made her a constant associate in the circle of polite intercourse. these opportunities gave an ease and grace to mrs. barry's behaviour, which were of essential benefit, when her patroness procured her an introduction to the stage. this happened in the year , when mrs. barry's efforts were so extremely unpropitious, that the directors of the duke's company pronounced her incapable of making any progress in the histrionic art. three times, according to curll's "history of the stage," she was dismissed, and by the interest of her benefactor, re-instated. when otway, however, produced his "alcibiades," in , her merit was such, as not only to excite the public attention, but to command the author's praise, which has been glowingly bestowed upon her in the preface to that production. we find her, next season, filling the lively character of _mrs. lovit_, in etherege's "man of mode;" and in , her performance of _monimia_, in the "orphan," seems to have raised that reputation to its greatest height, which had been gradually increasing. the part of _belvidera_, two years afterwards, and the heroine of southern's "fatal marriage," in , elicited unrivalled talent, and procured her universal distinction. when mrs. barry first resorted to the theatre, her pretensions to notice were a good air and manner, and a very powerful and pleasing voice. her ear, however, was so extremely defective, that several eminent judges, on seeing her attempt a character of some importance, gave their opinion that she never could be an actress. upon the authority of curll's historian, mr. davies[ ] has compiled what appears to me an apocryphal tale of her sudden rise to the pinnacle of excellence, though there is no reason to dispute her criminal intimacy with the earl of rochester. i am not inclined, while doubting the precise anecdote of his assistance, to deny that much advantage might have been derived from his general instructions. mrs. barry was not only remarkable for the brilliancy of her talent, but the earnestness of her zeal, and the ardour of her assiduity. betterton, that kind, candid, and judicious observer, bore this testimony to her eminent abilities, and unyielding good-nature, that she often exerted herself so greatly in a pitiful character, that her acting has given success to plays which would disgust the most patient reader.[ ] when she accepted a part, it was her uniform practice to consult the author's intention. her last new character was the heroine of smith's "phædra and hippolytus," and though mrs. oldfield and the poet fell out concerning a few lines in the part of _ismena_, mrs. barry and he were in perfect harmony. [_valide_, in goring's "irene," , was her last new part.] mrs. barry must have closed her career with this performance, being mentioned by steele, in the "tatler," when assisting at betterton's benefit, on thursday, april th, , as "not at present concerned in the house." she died on the th of november, , aged fifty-five years, and was buried in acton church-yard. mr. davies ascribes her death to the bite of a favourite lap-dog, who, unknown to her, had been seized with madness, and there seems to be no grounds for disturbing his supposition. mrs. betterton. when sir william d'avenant undertook the management of the duke's company, he lodged and boarded four principal actresses in his house, among whom was mrs. saunderson, the subject of this article. mrs. saunderson's first appearance in d'avenant's company, was made as _ianthe_, in the "siege of rhodes," on the opening of his new theatre in lincoln's-inn-fields, in april, [should be june, ]. she played _ophelia_ soon afterwards, and that part being followed by shakspeare's _juliet_, evinces the consideration in which her services were held. [about] , she married mr. betterton, and not in , as it is erroneously mentioned in the "biographia dramatica," and other worthless compilations.[ ] the principal characters sustained by mrs. betterton, were _queen catharine_, in "henry the eighth;" the _duchess of malfy_; the _amorous widow_; those enumerated in the text, and many others, not less remarkable for their importance than their variety. on the death of her husband, in april, , she was so strongly affected by that event, as to lose her senses, which were recovered, however, a short time previous to her own decease. mr. cibber may be right in stating that she only enjoyed the bounty of her royal mistress for about half a year; but, in that case, the pension could not have been granted directly he died, as we find that mrs. betterton was alive on the th of june, , more than thirteen months after, and had the play of "sir fopling flutter," performed at drury-lane for her benefit. mrs. betterton, though prevented from performing, by age and infirmity, enjoyed a sinecure situation in drury-lane theatre, till she withdrew from it, in , and was paid at the rate of [one pound] a-week. the "biographia britannica" says she survived her husband eighteen months, but the precise date of her decease has never been discovered. [mrs. betterton made a will on th march, . in all probability bellchambers is right in supposing that the annuity was not granted till some time after her husband's death.] benjamin johnson. this excellent actor, who was familiarly known by the appellation of his great namesake, ben jonson, came into the theatre royal, from an itinerant company, as mr. cibber relates, about the year . he was bred a sign painter, but took more pleasure in hearing the actors, than in handling his pencil or spreading his colours, and, as he used to say in his merry mood, left the saint's occupation at last to take that of the sinner. johnson's merit was evinced as _sir william wisewould_, in cibber's comedy of "love's last shift," to, ; but i find him first mentioned by downes, for _justice wary_, in caryl's "sir salomon" [about or ]; the old prompter, in a species of postscript to his valuable tract, then terms him "a true copy of mr. underhill," and instances his _morose_, _corbaccio_, and _hothead_, as very admirable efforts. johnson passed over to the management of old swiney, in , with other members of betterton's company, and established a very high reputation by his chaste and studied manner of acting. when rich, in , opened his new theatre in lincoln's-inn-fields, booth, wilks, and cibber, the managers of drury-lane, solicitous to retain in their service comedians of merit, paid a particular respect to johnson, by investing him with such parts of dogget, who had taken leave of them, as were adapted to his powers. here he continued with fame and profit, till august, , when he expired in the seventy-seventh year of his age. mr. davies, who appears to have been familiar with his excellencies, has given a description of johnson, which, for its evident taste and candour, i shall do myself the pleasure to transcribe. "that chaste copier of nature, ben johnson, the comedian, for above forty years, gave a true picture of an arch clown in the _grave-digger_. his jokes and repartees had a strong effect from his seeming insensibility of their force. his large, speaking, blue eyes he fixed steadily on the person to whom he spoke, and was never known to have wandered from the stage to any part of the theatre."--"dram. misc.," iii. . william bullock. this excellent actor came to london, as we see, about , deriving his engagement from the distress in which drury-lane theatre was involved by the desertion of betterton, and other principal performers. he quitted this establishment in , owing, as mr. cibber insinuates, to the ungovernable temper of wilks; and passed over to john rich, at the opening of lincoln's-inn-fields. he is first mentioned by downes, for the _host_, in shakspeare's "merry wives of windsor" [about or ], and appears to be pointed at in dennis's "epistle dedicatory" to the "comical gallant," where the irascible writer thus addresses the hon. george granville:-- "falstaff's part, which you know to be the principal one of the play, and that which on all the rest depends, was by no means acted to the satisfaction of the audience, upon which several fell from disliking the action, to disapproving the play." [as noted before, p. , bullock was probably not the actor aimed at.] this piece was printed in , as acted "at the theatre royal in drury-lane;" with a list of the _dramatis personæ_, but the names of the actors not annexed. bullock, however, sustained the part of _sir tunbelly clumsy_, in vanbrugh's "relapse," which had been previously performed under the same auspices, and from its nature, most probably by the same actor. william bullock was a comedian of great glee and much vivacity, and in his person large, with a lively countenance, full of humourous information. steele, in the "tatler," with his usual kind sensibility, very often adverts to bullock's faculty of exciting amusement, but sometimes censures his habit of interpolation.[ ] in gildon's "comparison between the two stages," [p. ], he is termed the "best comedian since nokes and leigh, and a fellow that has a very humble opinion of himself." bullock's abilities have been ratified by the sanction of macklin, who denominated him a true theatrical genius; and mr. davies saw him act several parts with great applause, and particularly the _spanish friar_, when beyond the age of eighty. he died on the th of june, . [genest, iii. , points out that bullock was acting in .] john mills. our first notice of this actor is found in the "roscius anglicanus," where downes, who seems anxious to dispatch his subject, says summarily that "he excels in tragedy," but without making the remotest allusion to any characters in which his talent had been displayed. john mills the elder was, in person, inclined to the athletic size; his features were large, though not expressive; his voice was full, but not flexible; and his deportment was manly, without being graceful or majestic. he was considered one of the most useful actors that ever served in a theatre, but though invested by the patronage of wilks with many parts of the highest order, he had no pretensions to quit the secondary line in which he ought to have been placed. steele[ ] taxes him very broadly with a want of "sentiment," and insinuates that by making gesture too much his study, he neglected the better attributes of his art. on the death of betterton, or soon after, wilks, who took upon himself to regulate the theatrical cast, gave _macbeth_, with great partiality, to mills, while booth and powell were condemned to represent the inferior parts of _banquo_ and _lenox_. mills, though he spoke the celebrated soliloquy on time,-- to-morrow, and to-morrow, etc., with propriety, feeling, and effect, wanted genius to realise the turbulent scenes in which this character abounds. so much, indeed, was his deficiency perceived, that the indignation of a country gentleman broke out one night, during the performance of this play, in a very odd manner. the 'squire, after having been heartily tired with mills, on the appearance of his old companion, powell, in the fourth act, exclaimed, loud enough to be heard by the audience, "for god's sake, george, give us a speech, and let me go home."[ ] i recollect an incident of the same sort occurring at bristol, where a very indifferent actor, declaimed so long and to such little purpose, that an honest farmer, who sat in the pit, started up with evident signs of disgust, and waving his hand, to motion the speaker off, cried out, "tak' un away, tak' un away, and let's have another." one of the best parts sustained by mills, was that of _pierre_, which he acted so much to the taste of the public, that the applause it produced him exceeded all that was bestowed upon his best efforts in every thing else. he also acted _ventidius_ with the true spirit of a rough and generous old soldier, and in _bajazet_, by the aid of his strong, deep, melodious voice, he displayed more than ordinary power. it is supposed that mills died in [december], , respected by the public as a decent actor, and beloved by his friends as a worthy man. theophilus keen. theophilus keen received his first instructions in acting from mr. ashbury, of the dublin theatre, in which he made his appearance about the year . he most probably came into the drury-lane company with johnson and others, when rich had beaten up for recruits. on the opening of the new house in lincoln's inn fields, he went over to it, and, according to chetwood, had a share not only of the management, but in the profit and loss, which latter speculation proved so disastrous to him, that he died in the year , of a broken heart. he was buried in the church of st. clement-danes, and so much does he seem to have been respected, that more than two hundred persons in deep mourning, attended his funeral. the influence he possessed in the theatre sometimes led him to assume such parts as _edgar_, _oroonoko_, and _essex_, while his excellence lay in _clytus_, and characters of a similar cast. his figure and voice, though neither elegant nor soft, were good, and his action was so complete, that it obtained for him the epithet of majestic, and when he spoke those lines of the _king_, in "hamlet," where he descants upon the dignity that "doth hedge" a monarch, his look and whole deportment were so commanding, that the audience accompanied them always with the loudest applause. mrs. mary porter. this valuable and respected actress, who was not only an honour to the stage, but an ornament to human nature, obtained the notice of betterton by performing, when a child, the _genius of britain_, in a lord mayor's pageant, during the reign of charles or james the second. it was the custom for fruit-women in the theatre formerly to stand fronting the pit, with their backs to the stage, and their oranges, &c. covered with vine leaves, under one of which betterton threatened to put his little pupil, who was extremely diminutive, if she did not speak and act as he would have her. mrs. porter was the genuine successor of mrs. barry, and had an elevated consequence in her manner, which has seldom been equalled. one of her greatest parts was shakspeare's _queen catherine_, in which her sensibility and intelligence, her graceful elocution and dignified behaviour, commanded applause and attention in passages of little importance. when the scene was not agitated by passion, to the general spectator she failed in communicating equal pleasure; her recitation of fact or sentiment being so modulated as to resemble musical cadence rather than speaking. where passion, however, predominated, she exerted her powers to a supreme degree, and exhibited that enthusiastic ardour which filled her audience with animation, astonishment, and delight. the dislocation of her thigh-bone, in the summer of , was attended with a circumstance that deserves to be recorded. she lived at heywood-hill, near hendon, and, after the play, went home every night in a one-horse chaise, prepared to defend herself against robbery, with a brace of pistols. she was stopped on one of those occasions by a highwayman, who demanded her money, and having the courage to level one of her pistols at him, the assailant, who was probably unfurnished with a similar weapon, assured her that he was no common thief, and had been driven to his present course by the wants of a starving family. he told her, at the same time, where he lived, and urged his distresses with such earnestness, that she spared him all the money in her purse, which was about ten guineas. the man left her, on which she gave a lash to the horse, who suddenly started out of the track, overturned her vehicle, and caused the accident already related. let it be remembered to this good woman's credit, that notwithstanding the pain and loss to which he had, innocently, subjected her, she made strict inquiry into the highwayman's character, and finding that he had told the truth, she raised about sixty pounds among her acquaintance, and sent it, without delay, to the relief of his wretched family. there is a romantic generosity in this deed that captivates me more than its absolute justice. about the year , mrs. porter returned to the stage, and acted many of her principal characters, with much vigour and great applause, though labouring under advanced age and unconquerable infirmity. she had the misfortune to outlive an annuity upon which she depended, and died in narrow circumstances, about the year . [she published lord cornbury's comedy of "the mistakes," in , by which she realized a large sum of money.] though her voice was harsh and unpleasing, she surmounted its defects by her exquisite judgment. in person she was tall and well shaped; her complexion was fair; and her features, though not handsome, were made susceptible of all that strong feeling could desire to convey. her deportment was easy, and her action unaffected; and the testimony upon which the merits of mrs. porter are placed, entitles us to rank her in the very first class of theatrical performers. mrs. anne oldfield. anne oldfield was born in the year , and would have possessed a tolerable fortune, had not her father, a captain in the army, expended it at a very early period. in consequence of this deprivation, she went to reside with her aunt, who kept the mitre tavern, in st. james's-market, where farquhar, the dramatist, one day heard her reading a few passages from beaumont and fletcher's "scornful lady," in which she manifested such spirit, ease, and humour, that being struck by her evident advantages for the stage, he framed an excuse to enter the room, a little parlour behind the bar, in which miss nancy was sitting. vanbrugh, who frequented the house, and was known to mrs. oldfield's mother, received a communication from that lady of the very great warmth with which his friend farquhar had extolled her daughter's abilities. vanbrugh, who seems to have been a zealous and sincere friend to all by whom his assistance was courted, immediately addressed himself to our heroine, and having ascertained that her fancy tended to parts of a sprightly nature, he recommended her to rich, the manager of drury-lane, by whom she was immediately engaged, at a salary of fifteen shillings _per_ week. her qualifications soon rendered her conspicuous among the young actresses of that time, and a man of rank being pleased to express himself in her favour, mr. rich increased her weekly terms to the sum of twenty shillings. the rise of mrs. oldfield was gradual but secure, and soon after the death of mrs. verbruggen she succeeded to the line of comic parts so happily held by that popular actress. her _lady betty modish_, in , before which she was little known, and barely suffered, discovered accomplishments the public were not apprised of, and rendered her one of the greatest favourites upon whom their sanction had ever been bestowed. she was tall, genteel, and well shaped; her pleasing and expressive features were enlivened by large speaking eyes, which, in some particular comic situations, were kept half shut, especially when she intended to realise some brilliant idea; in sprightliness of air, and elegance of manner, she excelled all actresses; and was greatly superior in the strength, compass, and harmony of her voice. though highly appreciated as a tragic performer, mrs. oldfield, in the full round of glory, used to slight her best personations of that sort, and would often say, "i hate to have a page dragging my train about. why don't they give porter those parts? she can put on a better tragedy face than i can." the constant applause by which she was followed in characters of this description, so far reconciled her to melpomene, that the last new one in which she appeared was thomson's _sophonisba_. upon her action and deportment the author has expressed himself with great ardour in the following lines: mrs. oldfield, in the character of _sophonisba_, has excelled what, even in the fondness of an author, i could either wish or imagine. the grace, dignity, and happy variety, of her action have been universally applauded, and are truly admirable. thomson's praise, indeed, is not more liberal than just, for we learn, that in reply to some degrading expression of _massinissa_, relating to carthage, she uttered the following line,-- not one base word of carthage, for thy soul!-- with such grandeur of port, a look so tremendous, and in a voice so powerful, that it is said she even astonished wilks, her _massinissa_; it is certain the audience were struck, and expressed their feelings by the most uncommon applause.[ ] testimony like this is sufficient to protect her claim to tragic excellence, eclipsed as it certainly is by the superiority of her comic reputation. _lady townly_ has been universally adduced as her _ne plus ultra_ in acting. she slided so gracefully into the foibles, and displayed so humourously the excesses, of a fine woman too sensible of her charms, too confident in her strength, and led away by her pleasures, that no succeeding _lady townly_ arrived at her many distinguished excellencies in the character. by being a welcome and constant visitor to families of distinction, mrs. oldfield acquired a graceful carriage in representing women of high rank, and expressed their sentiments in a manner so easy, natural, and flowing, that they appeared to be of her own genuine utterance. notwithstanding her amorous connexions[ ] were publicly known, she was invited to the houses of women of fashion, as conspicuous for unblemished character as elevated rank. even the royal family did not disdain to see mrs. oldfield at their levees. george the second and queen caroline, when prince and princess of wales, often condescended to converse with her. one day the princess told mrs. oldfield, she had heard that general churchill and she were married: "so it is said, may it please your royal highness," replied mrs. oldfield, "but we have not owned it yet." in private, mrs. oldfield was generous, humane, witty, and well-bred. though she disliked the man, and disapproved of his conduct, yet the misfortunes of savage recommended him to her pity, and she often relieved him by a handsome donation. her influence with walpole contributed to procure his pardon when convicted, on false evidence, of murder, and adjudged to death, a fate which his most unnatural mother did her utmost to enforce. it is not true that she either allowed this poet an annuity, or admitted his conversation,[ ] but still the benefits she did confer upon him were quite numerous enough to warrant his celebration of her memory. the goodness of her heart, and the splendour of her talents, were topics upon which savage might have ventured to insist, without endangering his piety or wounding his pride. dr. johnson has sanctioned the silence of this author,[ ] on the grounds of mrs. oldfield's condition; but that dogmatic man would have shown a truer taste for benevolence, had he recommended the most ardent devotion to individuals of any stamp, who were actuated by so glorious a principle. pope, who seems to have persecuted the name of player with a malignancy unworthy of his genius, has stigmatised the conversation of mrs. oldfield by the word "_oldfieldismos_," which he printed in greek characters; nor can there be a doubt that he meant her by the dying coquette, in one of his epistles. that mrs. oldfield was touched by the vanity of weak minds, and drew an absurd importance from the popularity of her low station, may be fairly inferred, and might have been fairly derided;[ ] but pope, with his usual want of candour, has appealed to less tangible failings, and tried, as in most cases, much more to ridicule the person than correct the fault. i do not dispute the brilliancy of his sarcasm, but i would rather hail the rigour of his justice.[ ] mrs. oldfield died on the d of october, , most sincerely lamented by those to whom her general value was not unknown. index. abbé, monsieur l', a french dancer, i. xxvii., i. . acting, excellence of, about, , i. xlviii.; cibber's views on versatility in, i. . actors, their names not given in old plays, i. xxv.; join charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; the prejudice against, i. - ; taken into society, i. ; their delight in applause, i. ; entitled gentlemen of the great chamber, i. ; must be born, not made, i. ; their private characters influence audiences, i. - ; their arrangement with swiney in , ii. ; refused christian burial by the romish church, ii. ; badly paid, ii. ; dearth of young, ii. . ---- the old, played secretly during the commonwealth, i. xxx.; arrested for playing, i. xxx.; bribed officers of guard to let them play, i. xxx. actress (miss santlow), insulted, i. . actresses, first english, i. , _note_ , i. , i. ; who were charles ii.'s mistresses, i. ; difficulty of getting good, ii. . addison, joseph, i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; pope's attack on, i. ; his opinion of wilks's hamlet, i. ; his view regarding humour in tragedy, i. ; his play of "cato," ii. ; its great success, ii. - ; presents the profits of "cato" to the managers, ii. ; its success at oxford, ii. ; his "cato" quoted, ii. , _note_ . admission to theatres, cheap, before , i. xxvii. adventurers--subscribers to the building of dorset garden theatre, i. , _note_ ; their interest in the drury lane patent, ii. , _note_ ; rich uses them against brett, ii. ; names of the principal, ii. , _note_ . agreement preliminary to the union of , ii. , ii. . "albion queens, the," ii. , _note_ . "alexander the great," by lee, i. . allen, william, an eminent actor, i. xxvi.; a major in charles i.'s army, i. xxix. alleyn, edward, caused the fortune theatre to be built for his company, i. xxviii.; endowed dulwich college, i. xxviii.; ben jonson's eulogium of, i. xxviii. "amphytrion," by dryden, i. . angel, a comedian, ii. . anne, queen (while princess of denmark), deserts her father, james ii., i. , i. ; pensions mrs. betterton, i. ; at the play, i. ; forbids audience on the stage, i. , _note_ ; her death, ii. . applause, i. ; the pleasure of, i. . archer, william, his investigations regarding the truth of diderot's "paradoxe sur le comédien," i. , _note_ ; his "about the theatre," i. , _note_ . aristophanes, referred to, i. . arlington, earl of, his death, i. , _note_ . arthur, son of henry vii., pageants at his marriage, i. xliii. ashbury, joseph, the dublin patentee, i. , ii. ; engages mrs. charlotte butler, i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ . aston, anthony, quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. ; on his own acting of fondlewife, ii. ; his "brief supplement" to cibber's lives of his contemporaries, reprint of, ii. ; his description of mrs. barry, ii. ; betterton, ii. ; mrs. bracegirdle, ii. ; dogget, ii. ; haines, ii. ; mrs. mountfort, ii. ; sandford, ii. ; underhill, ii. ; verbruggen, ii. . audience on the stage, i. , ii. . audiences rule the stage for good or evil, i. ; authors discouraged by their severity, i. . authors abusing managers and actors, ii. ; managers' troubles with, ii. ; cibber censured for his treatment of, ii. , _note_ . bacon, lord, quoted, i. xlv. baddeley, robert, the last actor who wore the uniform of their majesties' servants, i. , _note_ . balon, mons., a french dancer, i. . banks, john, the excellence of his plots, ii. ; his "unhappy favourite," ii. . baron, michael (french actor), i. . barry, mrs. elizabeth, i. , i. , _note_ , i. , i. , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her great genius, i. ; dryden's compliment to, i. ; her unpromising commencement as an actress, i. ; her power of exciting pity, i. ; her dignity and fire, i. ; the first performer who had a benefit, i. ; her death, i. ; her retirement, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . beaumont and fletcher's "wild-goose chase," published for lowin and taylor's benefit, i. xxxi. beeston, christopher, ii. . "beggar's opera," i. , i. . behn, mrs. aphra, i. . bellchambers, edmund, his edition of cibber's "apology" quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his memoir of mrs. barry, ii. ; betterton, ii. ; mrs. betterton, ii. ; w. bullock, ii. ; estcourt, ii. ; goodman, ii. ; hart, ii. ; b. johnson, ii. ; keen, ii. ; kynaston, ii. ; anthony leigh, ii. ; john mills, ii. ; mohun, ii. ; mountfort, ii. ; james nokes, ii. ; mrs. oldfield, ii. ; pinkethman, ii. ; mrs. porter, ii. ; powell, ii. ; sandford, ii. : smith, ii. ; underhill, ii. ; verbruggen, ii. ; joseph williams, ii. . benefits, their origin, i. ; mrs. elizabeth barry the first performer to whom granted, i. , ii. ; part confiscated by rich, ii. ; rich ordered to refund the part confiscated, ii. ; amounts realized by principal actors, ii. , _note_ . betterton, mrs. mary, i. , i. , ii. ; said to be the first english actress, i. , _note_ ; cibber's account of, i. - ; without a rival in shakespeare's plays, i. ; her unblemished character, i. ; pensioned by queen anne, i. ; her death, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . ---- thomas, i. , i. , i. , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. . ii. , ii. , ii. ; improves scenery, i. xxii.; taken into good society, i. ; famous for hamlet, i. ; cibber's eulogium of, i. - ; his supreme excellence, i. ; description of his hamlet, i. ; booth's veneration for, i. , _note_ ; his hotspur, i. ; his brutus, i. ; the grace and harmony of his elocution, i. ; his success in "alexander the great," i. , i. ; his just estimate of applause, i. ; his perfect elocution, i. ; description of his voice and person, i. ; kneller's portrait of, i. ; his last appearance, i. ; his death, i. ; the "tatler's" eulogium of, i. , _note_ ; gildon's life of, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; mrs. bracegirdle returns to play for his benefit, i. ; ill-treated by the patentees, i. ; makes a party against them, i. ; obtains a licence in , i. , _note_ , i. ; mimicked by powell, i. , i. , _note_ ; his versatility, i. ; his difficulty in managing at lincoln's inn fields, i. ; as a prologue-speaker, i. ; inability to keep order in his company, i. ; said to be specially favoured by the lord chamberlain, ii. ; declines management in, , ii. ; advertisement regarding his salary ( ), ii. , _note_ ; his superiority to wilks and booth, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; and the puppet-show keeper, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . betterton's company ( to, ), their decline, i. ; disorders in, i. . biblical narratives dramatized in the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxvii. _et seq._ bibliography of colley cibber, ii. - . bickerstaffe, isaac (author), ii. . bickerstaffe, john (actor), ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; threatens cibber for reducing his salary, i. , _note_ . bignell, mrs., ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . "biographia britannica," ii. . "biographia dramatica," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . bird, theophilus, an eminent actor, i. xxvi. blackfriar's company, "men of grave and sober behaviour," i. xxvii. ---- theatre, i. xxv., i. xxvi., i. xxviii., i. xlix.; its excellent company, i. xxiv., i. xxvi. blanc, abbé le, his account of a theatre riot, i. , _note_ . "blast upon bays, a," ii. . "bloody brother, the," actors arrested while playing, i. xxx. booth, barton, i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; memoirs of, published immediately after his death, i. ; story told by him of cibber, i. , _note_ ; his veneration for betterton, i. , _note_ ; his indolence alluded to by cibber, i. ; his reverence for tragedy, i. ; his morat, i. ; his life, by theo. cibber, quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his henry viii., i. , _note_ ; is warned by powell's excesses to avoid drinking, i. ; as a prologue-speaker, i. ; elects to continue at drury lane in , ii. ; his marriage, ii. , _note_ ; the reason of the delay in making him a manager, ii. ; his success as cato, ii. - ; his claim to be made a manager on account of his success, ii. ; supported by lord bolingbroke, ii. , _note_ ; his name added to the licence, ii. ; the terms of his admission as sharer, ii. ; his suffering from wilks's temper, ii. ; his connection with steele during the dispute about steele's patent, ii. , _note_ ; wilks's jealousy of, ii. ; a scene with wilks, ii. - ; and wilks, their opinion of each other, ii. ; his deficiency in humour, ii. ; formed his style on betterton, ii. ; cibber's comparison of wilks and booth, ii. - ; his othello and cato, ii. ; memoir of, ii. , _note_ ; patent granted to him, wilks, and cibber, after steele's death, ii. ; sells half of his share of the patent to highmore, ii. . booth, mrs. barton (see also santlow, hester), insulted by capt. montague, i. - ; sells the remainder of booth's share to giffard, ii. . boswell, james, his "life of dr. johnson," quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . bourgogne, hotel de, a theatre originally used for religious plays, i. xxxv. boutell, mrs., mentioned, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . bowen, james (singer), ii. . bowman (actor), memoir of, ii. , _note_ ; sings before charles ii., ii. . ---- mrs., ii. , _note_ . bowyer, michael, an eminent actor, i. xxvi. boy-actresses, i. ; still played after the appearance of women, i. . bracegirdle, mrs. anne, i. , i. , i. , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; admitted into good society, i. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her good character, i. - ; her character attacked by bellchambers, i. , _note_ ; tom brown's scandal about her, i. , _note_ ; attacked in "poems on affairs of state," i. , _note_ ; her best parts, i. ; her retirement, i. ; memoir of her, i. , _note_ ; her rivalry with mrs. oldfield, i. , _note_ ; declines to play some of mrs. barry's parts, i. - ; her retirement, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; her attempted abduction by capt. hill, ii. . bradshaw, mrs., ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. . brett, colonel henry, a share in the drury lane patent presented to him by skipwith, ii. ; his acquaintance with cibber, ii. ; cibber's account of, ii. - ; admires cibber's perriwig, ii. ; and the countess of macclesfield, ii. - ; his dealings with rich, ii. - , ii. - ; makes wilks, estcourt, and cibber his deputies in management, ii. , _note_ ; gives up his share to skipwith, ii. . ---- mrs. (see also miss mason, and countess of macclesfield), cibber's high opinion of her taste, ii. , _note_ ; his "careless husband" submitted to her, ii. , _note_ ; her judicious treatment of her husband, ii. , _note_ . bridgwater (actor), ii. . brown, tom, ii. , ii. ; his scandal on mrs. bracegirdle, i. , _note_ . buck, sir george, his "third university of england," quoted, i. xlviii. buckingham, duke of, ii. . "buffoon, the," an epigram on cibber's admission into society, i. , _note_ . bullen, a. h., his "lyrics from elizabethan song-books," i. , _note_ . bullock, christopher, ii. , _note_ . ---- mrs. christopher, i. , _note_ . ---- william, i. , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . burbage, richard, i. xxvi. burgess, colonel, killed horden, an actor, i. ; his punishment, i. , _note_ . burlington, earl of, ii. . burnet, bishop, his observations on nell gwynne, ii. ; on mrs. roberts, ii. . burney, dr., his "history of music," ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his mss. in the british museum, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . burt (actor), superior to his successors, i. xxiv.; apprenticed to shank, i. xxv.; and to beeston, i. xxv.; a "boy-actress," i. xxv.; a cornet in charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; arrested for acting, i. xxx. butler, mrs. charlotte, i. , i. , ii. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; patronized by charles ii., i. ; a good singer and dancer, i. ; a pleasant and clever actress, i. ; compared with mrs. oldfield, i. ; goes to the dublin theatre, i. ; note regarding her, i. , _note_ . byrd, william, his "psalmes, sonets, etc.," i. , _note_ . byron, lord, a practical joke erroneously attributed to him while at cambridge, i. , _note_ . cambridge. see trinity college, cambridge. "careless husband," cast of, i. , _note_ . carey, henry, deprived of the freedom of the theatre for bantering cibber, ii. , _note_ . carlile, james, memoir of, i. , _note_ ; is killed at aughrim, i. , _note_ , i. . cartwright (actor), belonged to the salisbury court theatre, i. xxiv. castil-blaze, mons., his "la danse et les ballets" quoted, i. , _note_ . catherine of arragon, pageants at her marriage with prince arthur, i. xliii. "cato," by addison, cast of, ii. , _note_ ; its success, ii. - ; at oxford, ii. ; its influence, ii. ; cibber's syphax in, i. . chalmers, george, his "apology for the shakspeare-believers," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . "champion" (by henry fielding), quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . charke, charlotte, ii. . ---- (musician), husband of cibber's daughter, ii. . charles ii. mentioned, i. , i. ; his escape from presbyterian tyranny, i. ; cibber sees him at whitehall, i. ; writes a funeral oration on his death while still at school, i. ; patents granted by him to davenant and killigrew, i. ; wittily reproved by killigrew, i. , _note_ ; called anthony leigh "his actor," i. ; his court theatricals, ii. ; and bowman the actor, ii. ; his opinion of sandford's acting, ii. . chesterfield, lord, his powers of raillery, i. , i. ; refers ironically to cibber in "common sense," i. , _note_ ; opposes the licensing act of , i. . chetwood, william rufus, cibber acts for his benefit, ii. ; his "history of the stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. - , ii. , ii. , ii. . "children of her majesty's chapel," i. xxxvi. "children of paul's," i. xxxvi. churchill, general, ii. , _note_ . ---- lady (duchess of marlborough), i. ; cibber attends her at table, i. ; his admiration of her, i. ; her beauty and good fortune, i. . cibber, caius gabriel, father of colley cibber, i. , _note_ ; his statues and other works, i. ; his marriage, i. , _note_ ; his death, i. , _note_ ; presents a statue to winchester college, i. ; employed at chatsworth, i. ; statues carved by him for trinity college library, cambridge, i. . cibber, colley, account of his life:-- his apology written at bath, i. , _note_ ; his reasons for writing his own life, i. , i. ; his birth, i. ; his baptism recorded, i. , _note_ ; sent to school at grantham, i. ; his character at school, i. ; writes an ode at school on charles ii.'s death, i. ; and on james ii.'s coronation, i. ; his prospects in life, i. ; his first taste for the stage, i. ; stifles his love for the stage and desires to go to the university, i. ; serves against james ii. in , i. ; attends lady churchill at table, i. ; his admiration of her, i. ; disappointed in his expectation of receiving a commission in the army, i. ; petitions the duke of devonshire for preferment, i. ; determines to be an actor, i. ; hangs about downes the prompter, i. , _note_ ; his account of his own first appearances, i. ; his first salary, i. ; description of his personal appearance, i. ; his first success, i. ; his marriage, i. ; plays kynaston's part in "the double dealer," i. ; remains with patentees in, , i. ; writes his first prologue, i. ; not allowed to speak it, i. ; forced to play fondlewife, i. ; plays it in imitation of dogget, i. ; his slow advancement as an actor, i. , i. ; writes his first play, "love's last shift," i. ; as sir novelty fashion, i. ; encouraged and helped by vanbrugh, i. ; begins to advance as an actor, i. ; better in comedy than tragedy, i. ; tragic parts played by him, i. ; his iago abused, i. , _note_ ; description of his justice shallow, i. , _note_ ; leaves drury lane for lincoln's inn fields, i. , _note_ ; returns to drury lane, i. , _note_ ; his "love in a riddle" condemned, i. - ; accused of having gay's "polly" vetoed, i. ; his damon and phillida, i. , _note_ ; consulted by rich on matters of management, i. ; his disputes with wilks, i. ; his "woman's wit" a failure, i. ; distinguished by dryden, i. ; attacked by jeremy collier, i. ; his adaptation of "richard iii.," i. ; his "richard iii." mutilated by the master of the revels, i. ; attacked by george chalmers, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; declines to pay fees to killigrew, master of revels, i. ; his surprise at mrs. oldfield's excellence, i. ; writes "the careless husband" chiefly for mrs. oldfield, i. ; finishes "the provoked husband," begun by vanbrugh, i. , _note_ ; invited to join swiney at the haymarket, i. ; leaves rich and goes to swiney, i. ; his "lady's last stake," ii. ; his "double gallant," ii. ; his "marriage à la mode," ii. ; declines to act on the same stage as rope-dancers, ii. ; advises col. brett regarding the patent, ii. , ii. ; his first introduction to him, ii. ; his account of brett, - ; as young reveller in "greenwich park," ii. ; made deputy-manager by brett, ii. , _note_ ; advertisement regarding his salary, , ii. , _note_ ; made joint manager with swiney and others in , ii. ; and his fellow-managers, wilks and dogget, ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; mediates between wilks and dogget, ii. ; his troubles with wilks, ii. ; his views and conduct on booth's claiming to become a manager, ii. - , ii. - ; his meetings with dogget after their law-suit, ii. ; his "nonjuror," i. , _note_ , ii. - ; accused of stealing his "nonjuror," ii. , _note_ ; makes the jacobites his enemies, ii. - ; reported dead by "mist's weekly journal," ii. ; his "provoked husband" hissed by his jacobite enemies, ii. ; his appointment as poet laureate in , i. , _note_ ; the reason of his being made laureate, ii. ; his "ximena," ii. , _note_ ; his suspension by the duke of newcastle, ii. , _note_ ; his connection with steele during the dispute about steele's patent, ii. , _note_ ; his account of a suit brought by steele against his partners, ii. - ; his pleading in person in the suit brought by steele, ii. - ; his success in pleading, ii. , _note_ , ii. ; assisted steele in his "conscious lovers," ii. ; his playing of wolsey before george i., ii. ; admitted into good society, i. ; elected a member of white's, i. , _note_ ; an epigram on his admission into good society, i. , _note_ ; patent granted to cibber, wilks, and booth after steele's death, ii. ; sells his share of the patent to highmore, ii. ; his sale of his share in the patent, i. ; his shameful treatment of highmore, ii. ; his retirement, ii. ; gives a reason for retiring from the stage, i. , i. , _note_ ; his appearances after his retirement, ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his remarks on his successful reappearances, i. ; his last appearances, i. , _note_ ; his adaptation of "king john," i. , _note_ ; his "papal tyranny in the reign of king john" withdrawn from rehearsal, ii. ; his "papal tyranny" produced, ii. ; its success, ii. ; his quarrel with pope, ii. - ; and horace walpole, ii. ; his death and burial, ii. ; list of his plays, ii. - ; bibliography of, ii. - ; anthony aston's "supplement" to, ii. . cibber, colley, attacks on him:-- commonly accused of cowardice, i. , _note_ ; threatened by john bickerstaffe, for reducing his salary, i. , _note_ ; accused of "venom" towards booth, i. , _note_ ; abused by dennis, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his offer of a reward for discovery of dennis, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; charged with envy of estcourt, i. , _note_ ; fielding's attacks upon, quoted (see under fielding, hy.); his galling retaliation on fielding, i. ; said to have been thrashed by gay, i. , _note_ ; "the laureat's" attacks upon (see "laureat"); satirized on his appointment as laureate, i. ; epigrams on his appointment quoted, i. , _note_ ; writes verses in his own dispraise, i. ; his odes attacked by fielding, i. , _note_ ; and by johnson, i. , _note_ ; charges against him of levity and impiety, i. , _note_ ; accused of negligence in acting, i. , _note_ ; attacked by the daily papers, i. ; his disregard of them, i. , i. , _note_ ; on newspaper attacks, ii. ; on principle never answered newspaper attacks, ii. ; his famous quarrel with pope, ii. ; "the nonjuror" a cause of pope's enmity to cibber, ii. , _note_ ; attacked by pope for countenancing pantomimes, ii. , _note_ ; his reply, ii. , _note_ ; his first allusion to pope's enmity, i. ; his opinion of pope's attacks, i. ; his odes, i. , _note_ ; supposed to be referred to in preface to shadwell's "fair quaker of deal," ii. , _note_ ; attacked for mutilating shakespeare, ii. ; accused of stealing "love's last shift," i. , and "the careless husband," i. , _note_ ; satirized by swift, i. , _note_ ; his defence of his follies, i. , i. . cibber, colley, criticisms of contemporaries:-- on the production of addison's "cato," ii. , ii. - ; his description of mrs. barry, i. - ; on the excellence of betterton and his contemporaries, i. ; his eulogium of betterton, i. - ; his description of mrs. betterton, i. - ; his account of booth and wilks as actors, ii. - ; his description of mrs. bracegirdle, i. - ; his description of mrs. butler, i. - ; his high opinion of mrs. brett's taste, ii. , _note_ ; submits every scene of his "careless husband" to mrs. brett, ii. , _note_ ; on his own acting, i. - ; his "epilogue upon himself," ii. ; on dogget's acting, ii. ; his low opinion of garrick, ii. ; his description of kynaston, i. - ; his description of leigh, i. - ; his description of mrs. leigh, i. - ; his description of mountfort, i. - ; his description of mrs. mountfort, i. - ; his praise of nicolini, ii. ; his description of nokes, i. - ; his hyperbolical praise of mrs. oldfield's lady townly, i. , i. , _note_ ; on rich's misconduct, ii. ; his description of sandford, i. ; his description of cave underhill, i. - ; his unfairness to verbruggen, i. , _note_ ; his account of wilks and booth as actors, ii. - ; on wilks's hamlet, i. ; praises wilks's diligence, ii. , ii. ; on wilks's love of acting, ii. ; on wilks's temper, ii. , ii. ; a scene with wilks, - . cibber, colley, reflections and opinions:-- on acting, i. , i. ; on acting villains, i. - , i. ; on the prejudice against actors, i. - ; his advice to dramatists, ii. ; on applause, i. , ii. ; on the severity of audiences, i. ; on politeness in audiences, ii. ; on troubles with authors, ii. ; on the effect of comedy-acting, i. ; on court influence, ii. ; on criticism, i. ; on his critics, ii. ; on humour in tragedy, i. ; on the italian opera, ii. - ; on the difficulty of managing italian singers, ii. ; on laughter, i. ; on the liberty of the stage, i. ; on the validity of the licence, i. ; on the power of the lord chamberlain, ii. - ; his principles as manager, i. ; on management, ii. ; on judicious management, ii. ; on the duties and responsibilities of management, ii. - ; on the success of his management, ii. ; on morality in plays, i. , i. ; on the power of music, i. ; on oxford theatricals, ii. - ; on pantomimes, i. , ii. ; on prologue-speaking, i. ; on the difficulties of promotion in the theatre, ii. ; on the queen's theatre in the haymarket, i. ; on raillery, i. ; on the revolution of , i. - ; on satire, i. ; on the reformation of the on making the stage useful, ii. - ; on the benefit of only one theatre, i. , ii. , ii. - ; on the shape of the theatre, ii. ; on his own vanity, ii. . ---- miscellaneous:-- profit arising from his works, i. , _note_ ; frequently the object of envy, i. ; his obtrusive loyalty, i. , _note_ , i. ; banters his critics by allowing his "apology" to be impudent and ill-written, i. ; his easy temper under criticism and abuse, i. ; confesses the faults of his writing, i. ; his "quavering tragedy tones," i. , _note_ ; his playing of richard iii. an imitation of sandford, i. ; his "careless husband" quoted, i. , _note_ ; his wigs, ii. , _note_ ; his treatment of authors, ii. , _note_ ; reproved by col. brett for his treatment of authors, ii. , _note_ ; his dedication of the "wife's resentment" to the duke of kent, ii. ; censured for his treatment of authors, ii. , _note_ ; his satisfaction in looking back on his career, ii. ; his acknowledgment of steele's services to the theatre, ii. ; his dedication of "ximena" to steele, ii. , _note_ ; his omission of many material circumstances in the history of the stage, ii. , _note_ ; wilks his constant supporter and admirer, ii. , _note_ ; his "odes," ii. ; hissed as phorbas, ii. ; aston on cibber's acting, ii. . cibber, mrs. colley, her marriage, i. ; her character, i. , _note_ ; her father's objection to her marriage, i. , _note_ . ---- lewis (brother of colley), admitted to winchester college, i. ; cibber's affection for, i. ; his great abilities, i. ; his death, i. . ---- susanna maria (wife of theophilus), ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; her speaking described, i. , _note_ . ---- theophilus, ii. , _note_ , ii. ; mentioned ironically by lord chesterfield, i. , _note_ ; in "art and nature," i. , _note_ ; acts as his father's deputy in heads a mutiny against highmore, ii. ; account of him, ii. ; his "life of booth" quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . "circe," an opera, i. . civil war, the, closing of theatres during, i. . clark, actor, memoir of, i. , _note_ . cleveland, duchess of, and goodman, ii. . clive, mrs. catherine, ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; her acting in "love in a riddle," i. , _note_ . clun, a "boy-actress," i. xxiv. cock-fighting prohibited in, , i. lii. cockpit, the (or phoenix), i. xxv.; its company, i. xxvi., i. xxviii., i. xlix.; rhodes's company at, i. xxviii.; secret performances at, during the commonwealth, i. xxx. coke, rt. hon. thomas, vice-chamberlain, his interference in dogget's dispute with his partners, ii. . coleman, mrs., the first english actress, i. , _note_ . colley, the family of, i. , i. . ---- jane, mother of colley cibber, i. , _note_ . collier, jeremy, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ ; his "short view of the profaneness, &c., of the english stage," i. xxi., i. xxxiii., i. , i. ; his arguments confuted, i. xxxiii. collier, william, m.p., i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; procures a licence for drury lane, ii. ; evicts rich, ii. ; appoints aaron hill his manager, ii. , _note_ ; his unjust treatment of swiney, ii. , ii. ; takes the control of the opera from swiney, ii. ; farms the opera to aaron hill, ii. ; forces swiney to resume the opera, ii. ; made partner with cibber, wilks, and dogget at drury lane, ii. ; his shabby treatment of his partners, ii. , ii. ; his downfall, ii. ; replaced by steele in the licence, ii. . comedy-acting, the effect of, i. . "common sense," a paper by lord chesterfield, quoted, i. , _note_ . "comparison between the two stages," by gildon, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. . complexion, black, of evil characters on the stage, i. . congreve, william, i. , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; memoir of, mentioned, i. , _note_ ; his "love for love," i. , i. ; scandal about him and mrs. bracegirdle, i. , _note_ ; a sharer with betterton in his licence in , i. , _note_ , i. ; his "mourning bride," i. ; his "way of the world," i. ; his opinion of "love's last shift," i. ; and vanbrugh manage the queen's theatre, i. , i. ; gives up his share in the queen's theatre, i. ; and mrs. bracegirdle, ii. . cooper, lord chancellor, ii. , ii. . coquelin, constant, his controversy with henry irving regarding diderot's "paradoxe sur le comédien," i. , _note_ . corelli, arcangelo, ii. . cory (actor), ii. , _note_ . court, theatrical performances at, see royal theatricals; interference of the, in the management of the stage, i. . covent garden, drury lane theatre sometimes described as the theatre in, i. , _note_ . covent garden theatre, i. , _note_ . coventry, the old leet book of, i. xl. craggs, mr. secretary, ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; chastises captain montague for insulting miss santlow, i. . craufurd, david, his account of the disorders in betterton's company, i. , _note_ . crawley, keeper of a puppet-show, ii. . creation, the, dramatized in the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxviii. cromwell, lady mary, i. , _note_ . cross, mrs., i. , _note_ . ---- richard, prompter of drury lane, i. , _note_ . crowne, john, his masque of "calisto," ii. . cumberland, richard, his description of mrs. cibber's speaking, i. , _note_ . cunningham, lieut.-col. f., doubts if ben jonson was an unsuccessful actor, i. , _note_ . curll, edmund, his "history of the stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. ; his "life of mrs. oldfield," i. , _note_ ; his memoirs of wilks, i. , _note_ . curtain theatre, the, mentioned by stow as recently erected, i. xlviii. cuzzoni, francesca, her rivalry with faustina, ii. . "cynthia's revels," played by the children of her majesty's chapel, i. xxxvi. "daily courant," quoted, ii. , _note_ . daly, augustin, his company of comedians, ii. . dancers and singers introduced by davenant, i. . davenant, alexander, ii. , _note_ ; his share in the patent, i. , _note_ . ---- dr. charles, ii. . ---- sir william, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; first introduces scenery, i. xxxii.; copy of his patent, i. liii.; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; poet laureate, i. , _note_ ; receives a patent from charles i., i. , _note_ ; from charles ii., i. ; his company worse than killigrew's, i. ; he introduces spectacle and opera to attract audiences, i. ; unites with killigrew's, i. ; his "macbeth," ii. , _note_ . davies, thomas, his "dramatic miscellanies," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. . _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ . ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his "life of garrick," i. lv., _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. . davis, mary (moll), i. , _note_ . denmark, prince of, his support of william of orange, i. , i. . dennis, john, i. , _note_ , ii. ; abuses cibber for his loyalty, i. , _note_ ; accuses cibber of stealing his "love's last shift," i. ; his attacks on steele and cibber, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; attacks wilks, ii. , _note_ ; abuses one of the actors of his "comic gallant," ii. , _note_ . "deserving favourite, the," i. xxv. devonshire, duke of, ii. ; his quarrel with james ii., i. ; cibber presents a petition to, i. . diderot, denis, his "paradoxe sur le comédien," i. , _note_ . dillworth, w. h., his "life of pope," ii. , _note_ . dixon, a member of rhodes's company, i. , _note_ . dobson, austin, his "fielding" quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . dodington, bubb, mentioned by bellchambers, i. , _note_ . dodsley, robert, purchased the copyright of cibber's "apology," i. , _note_ . dogget, thomas, i. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his excellence in fondlewife, i. ; cibber plays fondlewife in imitation of, i. ; his intractability in betterton's company, i. ; deserts betterton at lincoln's inn fields, and comes to drury lane, i. ; arrested for deserting drury lane, ii. ; defies the lord chamberlain, ii. ; wins his case, ii. ; made joint manager with swiney and others in , ii. ; his characteristics as a manager, ii. , ii. ; his behaviour on booth's claiming to become a manager, ii. , ii. ; retires because of booth's being made a manager, ii. ; his refusal to come to any terms after booth's admission, ii. ; goes to law for his rights, ii. ; the result, ii. ; wilks's temper, the real reason of his retirement, ii. - ; shows a desire to return to the stage, ii. ; his final appearances, ii. ; cibber's account of his excellence, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. . doran, dr. john, his "annals of the stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. . dorset, earl of, ii. ; has leigh's portrait painted in "the spanish friar," i. ; when lord chamberlain, supports betterton in - , i. ; compliments cibber on his first play, i. . dorset garden, duke's theatre, i. xxxii. ---- theatre, built for davenant's company, i. , _note_ ; the subscribers to, called adventurers, i. , _note_ . "double dealer, the," i. , _note_ . "double gallant," cast of, ii. , _note_ . downes, john, his "roscius anglicanus," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; attended constantly by cibber and verbruggen in hope of employment on the stage, i. , _note_ ; the "tatler" publishes a supposed letter from, ii. . "dramatic censor," , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . dramatists, cibber's advice to, ii. . drury lane theatre, i. , _note_ ; opened by king's company, i. xxxii.; built for killigrew's company, i. ; sometimes called "the theatre in covent garden," i. , _note_ ; desertion from in , i. ; company ( ), their improvement, i. ; its patent, ii. ; its original construction, ii. ; why altered, ii. ; under w. collier's management, , ii. ; report on its stability, ii. - . dryden, john, ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; his prologue on opening drury lane, , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; a bad elocutionist, i. ; his morat("aurenge-zebe"), i. ; his high praise of mrs. elizabeth barry, i. ; his prologue to "the prophetess," i. , _note_ ; his "king arthur," i. , _note_ ; a sharer in the king's company, i. ; his address to the author of "heroic love" quoted, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his indecent plays, i. ; his epilogue to "the pilgrim," i. ; his "secular masque," i. , _note_ ; his prologue to "the prophetess" vetoed, ii. ; his prologues at oxford, ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; expensive revival of his "all for love," ii. . dublin, wilks's success in, i. . "duchess of malfy," i. xxv. dugdale, sir william, his "antiquities of warwickshire" quoted, i. xxxvi.; mentions the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxviii. duke's servants, the, i. , _note_ , i. . duke's theatre, ii. ; first theatre to introduce scenery, i. xxxii. dulwich college, built and endowed by edward alleyn, i. xxviii. "dunciad, the," i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; on italian opera, i. , _note_ . dyer, mrs., actress, i. , _note_ . edicts to suppress plays, - , ii. . edward, son of henry vi., pageant played before, i. xl. ---- son of edward iv., pageant played before, i. xlii. edwin, john, his "eccentricities" quoted, ii. , _note_ . e----e, mr. [probably erskine], his powers of raillery, i. , i. , _note_ , i. . egerton, william, his memoirs of mrs. oldfield, i. , _note_ . "egotist, the," i. lv., _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. . elephants on the stage, ii. , _note_ . elizabeth, queen, and the spanish armada, allusion to, i. ; her rule of government, i. . elocution, importance of, i. . elrington, thomas, his visit to drury lane in , ii. , _note_ ; cibber said to have refused to let him play a certain character, ii. , _note_ . ely, bishop of, and joe haines, ii. . erskine, mr., probably the person mentioned by cibber, i. , i. , _note_ , i. . estcourt, richard, i. , i. . i. . i. , _note_ ; a marvellous mimic, i. ; yet not a good actor, i. ; said to be unfairly treated by cibber, i. , _note_ ; could not mimic nokes, i. ; his "gag" on the union of the companies in, , i. ; his first coming to london, i. ; made deputy-manager by brett, ii. , _note_ ; advertisement regarding his salary, , ii. , _note_ ; his falstaff, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . eusden, laurence, poet laureate, his death, i. , _note_ . evans, john, his visit to drury lane in , ii. , _note_ ; his falstaff, ii. . "faction display'd," ii. , _note_ . "fair maid of the west, the," i. xxv. fairplay, francis, a name assumed by cibber on one occasion, i. . "fairy queen," preface to, quoted, i. , _note_ . farinelli (singer), ii. . farquhar, george, ii. , ii. , ii. . fashionable nights, ii. . faustina (faustina bordoni hasse), her rivalry with cuzzoni, ii. . fees for performances at court, ii. . fenwick, sir john, ii. . fideli, signor, i. xxvii. field, nathaniel, originally a "chapel boy," i. xxxvii. fielding, henry, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. ; attacks cibber in "the champion," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; in "joseph andrews," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; in "pasquin," i. , _note_ ; attacks cibber for mutilating shakespeare, ii. ; manager of a company at the haymarket, i. , _note_ ; cibber's retaliation on, i. ; austin dobson's memoir of, quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; said to have caused the licensing act of , i. . fitzgerald, percy, his "new history of the english stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . fitzharding, lady, i. . fitzstephen, william, his "description of the city of london," i. xxxvii. fleetwood, charles, ii. ; purchases from highmore and mrs. wilks their shares of the patent, i. , ii. ; the deserters return to him, ii. . fletcher, john, his plays, i. xxv. footmen, admitted gratis to drury lane, i. ; this privilege abolished, i. , _note_ . fortune theatre, i. xxvi., i. xxix. fox, bishop, had charge of pageants in which sacred persons were introduced, i. xlv. french actors at lincoln's inn fields, ii. , _note_ . ---- audience, conduct of, ii. . "funeral, the," i. . gaedertz, herr, his "zur kenntniss der altenglischen bühne," ii. , _note_ . "gammer gurton's needle," one of the earliest regular comedies, i. xlvii. garrick, david, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; his influence in reforming the stage, ii. ; cibber plays against, ii. ; cibber's low opinion of, ii. ; davies's life of, i. lv., _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. . gaussin, jeanne catherine, ii. . gay, john, said to have thrashed cibber, i. , _note_ ; his "beggar's opera," i. ; his "polly" forbidden to be played, i. , i. , _note_ . genest, rev. john, his "account of the english stage," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his opinion of cibber's richard iii., i. , _note_ . "gentleman's magazine," ii. . gentlemen of the great chamber, actors entitled, i. . george i. has theatrical performances at hampton court, ii. ; his amusement at a scene of "henry viii.," ii. ; his present to the actors for playing at court, ii. . ---- ii., i. , ii. . giffard, henry, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; his theatre in goodman's fields, i. , _note_ ; purchases half of booth's share of the patent, ii. . gifford, william, doubts if ben jonson was an unsuccessful actor, i. , _note_ . gildon, charles, his life of betterton, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. . globe theatre, i. xxvi., i. xxix. goffe, alexander, a "boy-actress," i. xxx.; employed to give notice of secret performances during the commonwealth, i. xxx. "golden rump, the," a scurrilous play, i. , _note_ . goodman, cardell, mentioned, i. , _note_ , i. ; prophesies cibber's success as an actor, i. ; a highway robber, ii. , ii. ; his connection with the fenwick and charnock plot, ii. ; he and captain griffin have one shirt between them, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . goodman's fields, unlicensed theatre in, i. ; attempt to suppress it, i. ; odell's theatre, i. , _note_ ; giffard's theatre, i. , _note_ . ---- theatre, i. , _note_ ; closed by licensing act ( ), i. , _note_ . grafton, duke of, ii. ; blamed for making cibber laureate, i. , _note_ . grantham, cibber sent to school at, i. . griffin, captain (actor), i. , _note_ ; admitted into good society, i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; and goodman have one shirt between them, ii. . griffith, thomas, his visit to drury lane in , ii. , _note_ . "grub street journal," ii. , _note_ . guiscard, his attack on lord oxford referred to, i. . gwyn, nell, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. ; and charles ii., ii. ; bishop burnet's opinion of, ii. . haines, joseph, ii. , _note_ ; his _bon mot_ on jeremy collier, i. ; account of his career, i. , _note_ ; aston's description of, ii. ; his pranks, ii. , ii. ; life of, ii. , _note_ . halifax, lord, i. , ii. ; a patron of the theatre, ii. ; his testimonial to mrs. bracegirdle, ii. . hamlet, incomparably acted by taylor, i. xxvi.; betterton as, i. ; wilks's mistakes in, i. . hammerton, stephen, a famous "boy-actress," i. xxvi.; played amyntor, i. xxvi. hampton court, theatrical performances at, ii. , ii. , ii. . "hannibal and scipio," i. xxv. harlequin, cibber's low opinion of the character, i. - ; played without a mask by pinkethman, i. . "harlequin sorcerer," a noted pantomime, ii. , _note_ . harper, john, arrested as a rogue and vagabond, i. ; trial, ii. ; the result of his trial, i. ; his falstaff, ii. . harris, ii. , ii. . harrison, general, murders w. robinson the actor, i. xxix. hart, charles, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , _note_ ; superior to his successors, i. xxiv.; apprenticed to robinson, i. xxiv.; a "boy-actress," i. xxiv.; a lieutenant in charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; arrested for acting, i. xxx.; grows old and wishes to retire, i. xxxii.; his acting of the plain dealer, i. , _note_ ; famous for othello, i. ; his retirement, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . haymarket, little theatre in the, i. , _note_ ; opened by the mutineers from highmore in , ii. ; closed by licensing act ( ), i. , _note_ . ---- the queen's theatre in the (now her majesty's), i. ; its history, i. , _note_ ; opened for betterton's company, i. ; defects in its construction, i. , i. ; inconvenience of its situation, i. . hemming, john, i. xxvi. "henry viii.," ii. . heron, mrs., ii. . hewett, sir thomas, his report on the stability of drury lane, ii. . highmore, john, at variance with his actors, i. ; his purchase of the patent, i. , _note_ ; the price he paid for the patent, i. , _note_ ; purchases half of booth's share of the patent, ii. ; purchases cibber's share, ii. : his actors mutiny, ii. ; he summons harper as a rogue and vagabond, ii. ; sells his share in the patent, ii. . hill, aaron, on "tone" in speaking, i. , _note_ ; appointed by w. collier to manage drury lane, ii. , _note_ ; defied and beaten by his actors, ii. , _note_ ; farms the opera from collier, ii. ; on booth's lack of humour, ii. , _note_ . ---- captain richard, his murder of mountfort, i. , _note_ , ii. . "historia histrionica," reprint of, i. xix.; preface to, i. xxi. "historical register for ," ii. . hitchcock, robert, his "historical view of the irish stage," i. , _note_ . "holland's leaguer," i. xxv. holt, lord chief justice, ii. . horden, hildebrand, a promising actor, killed in a brawl, i. . horton, mrs., ii. . howard, j. b., plays iago in english to salvini's othello, i. , _note_ . ---- sir robert, i. , _note_ . hughes, margaret, said to be the first english actress, i. , _note_ . hutton, laurence, his "literary landmarks of london" quoted, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . irving, henry, his controversy with constant coquelin regarding diderot's "paradoxe sur le comédien," i. , _note_ ; restores shakespeare's "richard iii." to the stage, ii. . italian opera, introduced into england, i. ; "the dunciad" on, i. , _note_ . jackson, john, his "history of the scottish stage" referred to, ii. , _note_ . jacobites attacked in cibber's "nonjuror," ii. ; repay cibber for his attack by hissing his plays, ii. ; hiss his "nonjuror," ii. . james ii., ii. ; cibber, at school, writes an ode on his coronation, i. ; cibber serves against, at the revolution, i. ; his flight to france, i. ; his quarrel with the duke of devonshire, i. . jekyll, sir joseph, ii. . jevon, thomas, i. , _note_ . johnson, benjamin (actor), i. , _note_ , i. , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . johnson, dr. samuel, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his opinion of cibber's odes, i. , _note_ ; his epigram on cibber's laureateship quoted, i. , _note_ ; his "life of pope," ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his "lives of the poets," ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; his famous prologue ( ) quoted, i. , _note_ . jones, inigo, ii. . jonson, ben, i. ; out of fashion in , i. xxiii.; no actors in who could rightly play his characters, i. xxiv.; his plays, i. xxv.; his epigram on alleyn, i. xxviii.; on sal pavy, i. xxxvi.; said by cibber to have been an unsuccessful actor, i. ; this denied by gifford and cunningham, his editors, i. , _note_ ; his masques, ii. . jordan, thomas, his "prologue to introduce the first woman that came to act on the stage," , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . "joseph andrews" quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . "julius cæsar," special revival of, in , ii. . keen, theophilus, i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . kemble, john p., mentioned, i. lv., _note_ . kent, duke of, ii. . ---- mrs., ii. , _note_ . killigrew, charles, ii. , _note_ ; his share in the patent, i. , _note_ . ---- thomas, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; granted a patent similar to davenant's, i. liii., i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; his witty reproof of charles ii., i. , _note_ ; his company better than davenant's, i. ; unites with davenant's, i. . "king and no king," special revival of, in , ii. . "king arthur," i. . "king john" mutilated by colley cibber, ii. . "king john and matilda," i. xxv. king's servants, the, i. , _note_ , i. ; before , i. xxvi.; after the restoration, i. xxxi. kirkman, francis, his "wits," ii. , _note_ . knap, ii. , _note_ . kneller, sir godfrey, his portrait of betterton, i. ; his portrait of anthony leigh, i. , ii. ; imitated by estcourt, ii. . knight, mrs. frances, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . ---- joseph, his edition of the "roscius anglicanus" referred to, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . knip, mrs., i. , _note_ . kynaston, edward, i. , i. , ii. , ii. , i. , i. ; petted by ladies of quality, i. ; the beauty of his person, i. ; his voice and appearance, i. ; his bold acting in inflated passages, i. ; his majesty and dignity, i. - ; lingered too long on the stage, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . lacy, john, superior to his successors, i. xxiv. lady of title, prevented by relatives from becoming an actress, i. . "lady's last stake," cast of, ii. , _note_ . langbaine, gerard, his "account of the english poets," ii. , _note_ . laughter, reflections on, i. . "laureat, the" (a furious attack on cibber), i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. . lebrun, charles, painter, alluded to, i. . lee, charles henry, master of the revels, ii. . ---- mrs. mary, i. , _note_ . ---- nathaniel, ii. ; his "alexander the great," i. ; a perfect reader of his own works, i. ; mohun's compliment to him, i. ; failed as an actor, i. . leigh, anthony, i. , i. , i. , i. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; his exuberant humour, i. ; in "the spanish friar," i. ; painted in the character of the spanish friar, i. ; his best characters, i. , i. ; and nokes, their combined excellence, i. , his superiority to pinkethman, i. ; the favourite actor of charles ii., i. ; compared with nokes, i. ; his death, i. , i. ; his "gag" regarding obadiah walker's change of religion, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . leigh, mrs. elizabeth, i. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her peculiar comedy powers, i. ; note regarding her, i. , _note_ . ---- francis, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . leveridge, richard, ii. , _note_ . licence granted by king william in , i. . licensing act of , i. , _note_ , i. , i. , _note_ , ii. . "lick at the laureat," said to be the title of a pamphlet, i. , _note_ . lincoln's inn fields, duke's old theatre in, i. xxxii., i. , _note_ . ---- betterton's theatre in, i. ; its opening, i. ; its success at first, i. ; its speedy disintegration, i. . ---- rich's theatre in, ii. , ii. ; its exact situation, ii. , _note_ ; rich's patent revived at, ii. ; its opening, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; actors desert drury lane to join, ii. . "london cuckolds," i. . "london news-letter," i. , _note_ . lord chamberlain, cibber on the power of the, ii. - , ii. ; his name not mentioned in the patents, ii. ; sir spencer ponsonby-fane on the power of, ii. , _note_ ; his power of licensing plays, ii. ; plays vetoed by him, ii. - ; actors arrested by his orders, ii. - ; his edicts against desertions, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; said to favour betterton at the expense of rival managers, ii. ; various edicts regarding powell, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; warrant to arrest dogget, ii. , _note_ ; his edict separating plays and operas in , ii. , _note_ ; interferes on behalf of actors in their dispute with the patentees in , ii. ; silences patentees for contumacy, ii. ; his order for silence, , quoted, ii. , _note_ . lord chamberlain's records, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . lorraine, duke of, ii. . louis xiv., mentioned, i. . ---- prince, of baden, ii. . "love in a riddle," cast of, i. , _note_ . lovel (actor), ii. . lovelace, lord, ii. . "love's last shift," cast of, i. , _note_ . lowin, john, ii. ; arrested for acting, i. xxx.; superior to hart, i. xxiv.; his chief characters, i. xxvi.; too old to go into charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; becomes an inn-keeper, and dies very poor, i. xxxi. "lucius junius brutus," by lee, vetoed, ii. . "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxviii.; these plays acted at other towns besides coventry, i. xxxviii.; a description of them, i. xxxviii. _et seq._ "lunatick, the," ii. , _note_ . luttrell's diary quoted, i. , _note_ . macaulay, lord, his "history of england" referred to, ii. , _note_ . "macbeth" _in the nature of an opera_, i. , _note_ ; ii. , ii. , _note_ . macclesfield, countess of, ii. . see also mrs. brett. macklin, charles, ii. , ii. ; his first coming to london, ii. ; a great reformer, ii. . macready, william c, mentioned, i. , _note_ . macswiney, owen. see swiney, owen. "maid's tragedy" vetoed in charles ii.'s time, ii. ; played with altered catastrophe, ii. . mainwaring, arthur, ii. , _note_ . malone, edmond, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . management, cibber on the duties and responsibilities of, ii. - . margaret, queen of henry vi., pageant played before her, i. xl. marlborough, duchess of. see churchill, lady. ---- duke of, ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. . "marriage à la mode," by cibber, cast of, ii. , _note_ . marshall, anne, i. , _note_ ; said to be the first english actress, i. , _note_ . ---- julian, his "annals of tennis" quoted, i. , _note_ . mary, the virgin, and joseph, characters in the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxix. ---- queen, her death, i. . "mary, queen of scotland," by banks, vetoed, ii. . masculus, a comedian, who was a christian martyr, i. xxii. masks, ladies wearing, at the theatre, i. ; ultimately the mark of a prostitute, i. , _note_ . mason, miss. see countess of macclesfield, and mrs. brett. masques, enormous expense of, ii. . master of the revels. see revels. mathews, charles (the elder), his powers of imitation referred to, i. , _note_ . mathias, st., the choosing of, as an apostle, dramatized in the "ludus coventriæ," i. xxxviii. matthews, brander, ii. , _note_ . maynard, serjeant, a whig lawyer, satirized, i. , _note_ . medbourn, matthew, ii. . melcombe, lord, mentioned, i. , _note_ . "mery play between the pardoner and the frere, the curate and neybour pratte, a," described, i. xlv. miller, james, his "art and nature" failed, i. , _note_ . ---- josias (actor), ii. . mills, john, i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; his friendship with wilks, i. , ii. ; his honesty and diligence, i. ; his large salary, i. ; advertisement regarding his salary, , ii. , _note_ ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. ; and the country squire, ii. . milward, william, i. , _note_ . mist, nathaniel. see "mist's weekly journal." "mist's weekly journal," ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. . mohun, lord, ii. ; implicated in mountfort's death, i. , _note_ , ii. . ---- michael, superior to his successors, i. xxiv.; apprentice to beeston, i. xxv.; acted bellamente, i. xxv.; a captain in charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; his death, i. ; his admiration of nat. lee's elocution, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . montague, captain, insults miss santlow, i. ; chastised by mr. craggs, i. . moore, mrs., ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . morley, professor henry, his edition of the "spectator," ii. , _note_ . mountfort, william, i. , i. , i. , _note_ , i. , ii. ; taken into good society, i. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; his voice and appearance, i. ; his alexander the great, i. ; his excellent acting of fine gentlemen, i. ; his delivery of witty passages, i. ; his rover, i. ; his versatility, i. , i. ; his sparkish ("country wife") and his sir courtly nice, i. ; copied by cibber in sir courtly nice, i. ; his tragic death, i. , i. ; memoir of him, i. , _note_ ; tom brown on his connection with mrs. bracegirdle, i. , _note_ ; his comedy of "greenwich park," ii. ; copied by wilks, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. ; full account of his death by the hands of capt. hill, ii. - . ---- mrs., i. , i. , ii. , ii. ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her variety of humour, i. ; her artistic feeling, i. ; her acting of the western lass, i. ; in male parts, i. ; plays bayes with success, i. ; the excellence of her melantha, i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; leaves betterton's company in , i. ; her death, ii. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. . mountfort, susanna, i. , _note_ . music in the theatre, i. xxxii. newcastle, duke of, ii. ; (lord chamberlain), his persecution of steele, ii. , _note_ . newington butts, i. xlix. newman, thomas, actor, one of their majesties' servants, i. , _note_ . nichols, john, his "theatre, anti-theatre, &c.," ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . nicolini (nicolo grimaldi), singer, ii. , ii. ; cibber's high praise of, ii. ; praised by the "tatler," ii. . noblemen's companies of players, i. xlvii. nokes, james, i. ; cibber's description of, i. - ; his natural simplicity, i. ; could not be imitated, i. ; his best characters, i. ; his ludicrous distress, i. ; his voice and person, i. ; and leigh, their combined excellence, i. ; compared with leigh, i. ; his death, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. ; why called "nurse nokes," ii. . nokes, robert, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. . "nonjuror, the," a line in the epilogue quoted, i. ; cast of, ii. , _note_ . norris, henry, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . ---- mrs., said to be the first english actress, i. , _note_ . northey, sir edward, his "opinion" on the patent, ii. , _note_ . oates, titus, i. . odell, thomas, his theatre in goodman's fields, i. , _note_ . "old and new london," referred to, ii. , _note_ . oldfield, mrs. anne, i. , i. , _note_ , i. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; memoirs of, published immediately after her death, i. ; her acting of lady townly praised in high-flown terms by cibber, i. , i. , _note_ ; admitted into good society, i. ; her unpromising commencement as an actress, i. , i. ; compared with mrs. butler, i. ; her rivalry with mrs. bracegirdle, i. , _note_ ; cibber's account of, i. - ; her good sense, i. ; her unexpected excellence, i. ; cibber writes "the careless husband" chiefly for her, i. ; her perfect acting in it, i. ; and wilks playing in same pieces, i. ; proposed to be made a manager, ii. ; gets increased salary instead, ii. ; advertisement regarding her salary, , ii. , _note_ ; riot directed against, ii. ; settles a dispute between wilks, cibber, and booth, ii. ; her death, ii. ; copied mrs. mountfort in comedy, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. ; and richard savage, ii. . opera, i. ; control of, given to swiney, ii. . ---- italian, account of its first separate establishment, ii. - ; decline of italian, ii. - . otway, thomas, his failure as an actor, i. , _note_ ; his "orphan," i. , _note_ . oxford, visited by the actors in , ii. , ii. ; dryden's prologues at, ii. , ii. , _note_ ; its critical discernment, ii. . ---- lord, guiscard's attack on, referred to, i. . pack, george, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; account of, ii. , _note_ . pageants formed part in receptions of princes, &c., i. xl. _et seq._ painting the face on the stage, i. , _note_ . pantomimes, the origin of, ii. ; cibber's opinion of, ii. ; "the dunciad" on, ii. , _note_ . "papal tyranny in the reign of king john," cast of, ii. , _note_ . parish-clerks, play acted by, in , i. xxxv. parliamentary reports on the theatres, i. , _note_ . "parson's wedding, the," played entirely by women, i. xxxii. "pasquin" quoted, i. , _note_ . patent, copy of, granted to sir william davenant in , i. liii.; steele's, ii. . patentees, the, their foolish parsimony, i. ; their ill-treatment of betterton and other actors, i. ; the actors combine against them, i. ; their deserted condition, i. . (for transactions of the patentees, see also rich, c.) pavy, sal, a famous child-actor, i. xxxvi.; ben jonson's epigram on, i. xxxvi. pelham, hon. henry, cibber's "apology" dedicated to, i. lv., _note_ . pembroke, earl of, ii. , _note_ . pepys, samuel, his "diary," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . percival (actor), i. , _note_ . perkins, an eminent actor, i. xxvi.; his death, i. xxxi. perrin, mons. (of the théâtre français), ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . perriwigs, enormous, worn by actors, ii. , _note_ . phoenix, the, or cockpit, i. xxvi. "picture, the," i. xxv. pinkethman, william, i. , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; his inferiority to anthony leigh, i. ; his liberties with the audience, i. ; hissed for them, i. , _note_ ; his lack of judgment, i. ; plays harlequin without the mask, i. ; his success as lory in "the relapse," i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . ---- the younger, ii. . plays, value of old, for information on manners, i. xxi.; old, no actors' names given, i. xxv.; originally used for religious purposes, i. xxxiv., i. xxxv.; their early introduction, i. xxxvii.; began to alter in form about the time of henry viii., i. xlv.; origin of, in greece and england, i. xlviii.; the alteration in their subjects noticed by stow in , i. xlviii.; temporarily suspended, i. xlix.; arranged to be divided between davenant's and killigrew's companies, i. ; expenses of, i. , _note_ . players defended regarding character, i. xxii.; not to be described as rogues and vagabonds, i. xlix.; entirely suppressed by ordinances of the long parliament, i. li. playhouses, large number of, in , i. xlix. "poems on affairs of state," quoted, i. , _note_ . "poetaster, the," played by the children of her majesty's chapel, i. xxxvi. poet laureate, cibber appointed, , i. , _note_ . pollard, thomas, a comedian, i. xxvi.; superior to hart, i. xxiv.; too old to go into charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; arrested for acting, i. xxx.; his retirement and death, i. xxxi. pollixfen, judge, ii. . ponsonby-fane, sir spencer, his memorandum on the power of the lord chamberlain, ii. , _note_ . pope, alexander, ii. ; cibber's "letter" to, quoted, i. , _note_ ; cibber's first allusion to pope's enmity, i. ; an epigram comparing pope and cibber in society, i. , _note_ ; cibber's opinion of pope's attacks, i. ; some of pope's attacks quoted, i. , _note_ ; his attack on atticus (addison), i. ; cibber's "letter" to, quoted, i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ ; epigram attributed to him, on cibber's laureateship, i. , _note_ ; his "moral essays," quoted, i. , _note_ ; attacks cibber for countenancing pantomimes, ii. , _note_ ; "the nonjuror" a cause of his enmity to cibber, ii. , _note_ ; his "epistle to dr. arbuthnot," ii. , _note_ ; his quarrel with cibber, ii. - ; cibber's "letter" to him, ii. ; his famous adventure, ii. ; cibber's second "letter" to, ii. ; his portrait of betterton, ii. ; his attacks on mrs. oldfield, ii. . (see also "dunciad.") porter, mrs. mary, ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; dogget plays for her benefit after his retirement, ii. ; accident to, ii. , ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . portuguese, the, and religious plays, i. xxxv. "post-boy rob'd of his mail," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ . powell, george, i. , i. , i. , _note_ , i. , i. , i. . _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; offered some of betterton's parts, i. ; his indiscretion as a manager, i. ; mimics betterton, i. , i. , _note_ ; the contest between him and wilks for supremacy at drury lane, i. - , i. - ; his carelessness, i. , i. ; deserts drury lane, i. ; returns to drury lane, i. ; arrested for deserting his manager, ii. ; arrested for striking young davenant, ii. ; discharged for assaulting aaron hill in , ii. , _note_ ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . price, joseph, account of him by bellchambers, i. , _note_ . prince's servants, the, before, , i. xxvi. pritchard, mrs., ii. , _note_ . profits made by the old actors, i. xxxii.; of the theatre, how divided in , i. . prologue-speaking, the art of, i. . "prophetess, the," i. . "provoked husband," cast of, i. , _note_ . "provoked wife," altered, ii. . "psyche," an opera, i. . puppet-show in salisbury change, i. . purcell, henry, i. , _note_ , ii. . quantz, mons., ii. , _note_ . queen's servants, the, before , i. xxvi. ---- theatre in the haymarket, success of swiney's company in, ii. ; set aside for operas only, ii. ; its interior altered, ii. ; opened by the seceders from drury lane in , ii. . quin, james, i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ ; the chief actor at garrick's appearance, ii. . raftor, catherine. see clive. ---- james, i. , _note_ . raillery, reflections on, i. . raymond, his "opinion" on the patent, ii. , _note_ . red bull theatre, i. xxvi., i. xxix.; used by king's company after the restoration, i. xxxi.; drawing of the stage of the, ii. , _note_ . reformation of the stage, cibber on, i. . rehan, ada, a great comedian, ii. . religion and the stage, i. xxi., i. xxxiii. "renegado, the," i. xxv. revels, master of the, his unreasonableness to cibber, i. ; his fees refused to be paid, i. . rhodes, the prompter, ii. , ii. ; his company, at the cockpit, i. xxviii.; his company of actors engaged by davenant, i. , _note_ . rich, christopher, patentee of drury lane, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. ; description of, i. , _note_ ; admits servants to theatre gratis, i. ; his treatment of his actors, i. ; consults cibber on matters of management, i. ; his principles of management, i. , ii. - ; his tactics to avoid settling with his partners, i. ; his objections to an union of the two companies, i. ; permits swiney to rent the queen's theatre, i. ; his foolish neglect of his actors, i. ; declines to execute his agreement with swiney, i. ; wishes to bring an elephant on the stage, ii. ; introduces rope-dancers at drury lane, ii. ; silenced for receiving powell, ii. , _note_ ; his share in the patent, ii. , _note_ , ii. ; his dealings with col. brett, ii. - , ii. - ; cibber on his misconduct, ii. ; his foolish mismanagement, ii. , ii. ; confiscates part of his actors' benefits, ii. ; ordered to refund this, ii. ; silenced by the lord chamberlain ( ), ii. ; his proceedings after being silenced, ii. , ii. , _note_ ; an advertisement issued by him regarding actors' salaries in , ii. , _note_ ; evicted by collier from drury lane ( ), ii. ; his patent revived in , ii. , ii. ; his extraordinary behaviour to the lord chamberlain, ii. ; genest's character of him, ii. , _note_ ; rebuilds lincoln's inn fields theatre, ii. ; his death, ii. , _note_ . rich, john, ii. , ii. , _note_ ; opens lincoln's inn fields theatre, ii. , _note_ ; an excellent harlequin, ii. , _note_ ; manages the lincoln's inn fields company, ii. ; opens covent garden, ii. . "richard iii.," cibber's adaptation of, i. ; his playing in, i. , i. ; cast of, ii. , _note_ . richardson, jonathan, ii. . roberts, mrs., one of charles ii.'s mistresses, ii. . robins, a comedian, i. xxvi. robinson, william, ii. ; hart apprenticed to, i. xxiv.; a comedian, i. xxvi.; murdered by harrison, i. xxix. rochester, lord, ii. , _note_ , ii. . rogers, mrs., i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. ; her affectation of prudery, i. ; becomes wilks's mistress, i. ; her eldest daughter, i. ; riot caused by, ii. . rogues and vagabonds, players not to be described as, i. xlix., i. . "roman actor, the," i. xxv. roman catholic religion, attacked by cibber, i. . rope-dancers on the stage, ii. . "roscius anglicanus." see downes, john. rose tavern, the, i. , _note_ . rowe, nicholas, in love with mrs. bracegirdle, i. ; complains of french dancers, i. . royal theatricals during george i.'s reign, ii. ; during previous reigns, ii. ; effect of audience on actors, ii. ; fees for, ii. . rymer, thomas, ii. . sacheverel, doctor, his trial hurtful to the theatres, ii. . st. giles's-in-the-fields, colley cibber christened at, i. , _note_ . "st. james's evening post," ii. , _note_ . st. paul's singing school, i. xlix. salisbury court, the private theatre in, i. xxiv., i. xxvi., i. xxviii. salvini, tommaso, the great italian tragedian, plays in italian, while his company plays in english, i. , _note_ . sandford, samuel, i. , i. , ii. , _note_ ; the "spagnolet" of the theatre, i. ; cibber's account of him, i. - ; his personal appearance, i. ; an actor of villains, i. , i. ; his creon ("oedipus"), i. ; the "tatler" on his acting, i. , _note_ ; anecdote of his playing an honest character, i. ; "a theatrical martyr to poetical justice," i. ; his voice and manner of speaking, i. ; would have been a perfect richard iii., i. ; cibber plays richard iii. in imitation of, i. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . santlow, hester, her first appearance as an actress, ii. ; her manner and appearance, ii. ; her character, ii. , _note_ ; her marriage with booth, ii. , _note_ . (see also booth, mrs. barton.) satire, reflections on, i. ; cibber's opinion regarding a printed and an acted, i. . saunderson, mrs. see betterton, mrs. savage, richard, ii. , _note_ ; and mrs. oldfield, ii. . scenes, first introduced by sir william davenant, i. xxxii., i. , _note_ . "secular masque, the," i. , _note_ . sedley, sir charles, kynaston's resemblance to, ii. . senesino (singer), ii. . sewell, dr. george, his "sir walter raleigh," ii. , _note_ . shadwell, charles, his "fair quaker of deal," ii. . ---- thomas, his comedy of "the squire of alsatia," i. . shaftesbury, first earl of, i. , _note_ . shakespeare, william (see also names of his plays), a better author than actor, i. xxv., i. ; his plays, i. xxv.; his plays depend less on women than on men, i. ; expenses of plays in his time, i. . "sham lawyer, the," ii. , _note_ . shank, john, a comedian, i. xxvi.; played sir roger ("scornful lady"), i. xxvi. shatterel, ii. ; superior to his successors, i. xxiv.; apprentice to beeston, i. xxv.; a quartermaster in charles i.'s army, i. xxix. shelton, lady, ii. . shore, john, brother-in-law of colley cibber, i. , _note_ . ---- miss. see cibber, mrs. colley, i. , _note_ . "shore's folly," i. , _note_ . "silent woman," i. xxiv. singers and dancers introduced by davenant, i. ; difficulty in managing, ii. . skipwith, sir george, ii. . ---- sir thomas (one of the patentees of drury lane), ii. ; does vanbrugh a service, i. ; receives "the relapse" in return, i. ; a sharer in the drury lane patent, ii. ; assigns his share to colonel brett, ii. ; his friendship for brett, ii. ; claims his share from brett, ii. . smith, william, i. , ii. , ii. ; insulted by one of the audience, i. ; defended by the king, i. ; driven from the stage because of the king's support of him, i. ; taken into good society, i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . sophocles, his tragedies, ii. . southampton house, bloomsbury, i. , _note_ . southerne, thomas, ii. ; prophesies the success of cibber's first play, i. ; his "oroonoko," i. , _note_ . spaniards, the, and religious plays, i. xxxv. "spectator," ii. . spiller, james, ii. , _note_ . stage, and religion, i. xxi., i. xxxiii.; the, cibber on the reformation of, i. ; audience on, forbidden, i. ; cibber on the influence of, ii. - ; shape of the, described, ii. ; doors, ii. , _note_ . statute regarding rogues and vagabonds, i. .; against profanity on the stage, i. .; against persons meeting out of their own parishes on sundays for sports, etc., i. .; entirely suppressing players, i. li. steele, sir richard, i. , _note_ , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; substituted for collier in the licence, ii. ; the benefits he had conferred on cibber and his partners, ii. ; dennis's attacks on, ii. , _note_ ; receives a patent, ii. ; assigns equal shares in the patent to his partners, ii. ; account of his transactions in connection with the theatre which are ignored by cibber, ii. , _note_ ; persecuted by the duke of newcastle, then lord chamberlain, ii. , _note_ ; his licence revoked, ii. , _note_ ; restored to his position, ii. , _note_ ; the expiry of his patent, ii. , _note_ ; assigns his share of the patent, ii. ; brings an action against his partners, ii. ; account of the pleadings, ii. - ; his recommendation of underhill's benefit, ii. . stow, john, his "survey of london" quoted, i. xxxv., i. xlviii. strolling players, i. xl., i. xlvii., i. . subligny, madlle., a french dancer, i. . "summer miscellany, the," ii. , _note_ . sumner, an eminent actor, i. xxvi.; his death, i. xxxi. sunderland, lady (the little whig), i. . swan theatre, drawing of the stage of the, ii. , _note_ . swanston, eliard, acted othello, i. xxvi.; the only actor that took the presbyterian side in the civil war, i. xxix. swift, jonathan, an attack on cibber by him in his "rhapsody on poetry" quoted, i. , _note_ . swiney, owen, i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his "quacks," i. , _note_ ; account of his character, i. ; memoir of, i. , _note_ ; rents the queen's theatre from vanbrugh, i. . i. . _note_ ; his agreement with rich about renting the queen's theatre, i. ; rich declines to execute it, i. ; his success at the queen's theatre in - , ii. ; his arrangement with his actors in , ii. ; control of the opera given to, ii. ; his gain by the opera in , ii. ; has joint control of plays and operas ( ), ii. ; forced to hand over the opera to collier, ii. ; forced to resume the opera, ii. ; goes abroad on account of debt, ii. ; his return to england, ii. ; cibber plays for his benefit, ii. . "tatler," the, i. , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. ; its eulogium of betterton, i. , _note_ ; recommends cave underhill's benefit, i. ; praises nicolini, ii. ; its influence on audiences, ii. . taylor, john, his "records of my life" quoted, i. lxv., _note_ . ---- joseph, ii. ; superior to hart, i. xxiv.; his chief characters, i. xxvi.; too old to go into charles i.'s army, i. xxix.; arrested for acting, i. xxx.; his death, i. xxxi. "tempest, the," as an opera, i. ; revival of, ii. . theatre, the, mentioned by stow as recently erected, i. xlviii. théâtre français, ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . theatres, number of, before , i. xxvi.; more reputable before , i. xxvii.; less reputable after the restoration, i. xxvii.; evil, artistically, of multiplying, i. . theobald, lewis, deposed from the throne of dulness, ii. . thomson, james, his "sophonisba," ii. . tofts, mrs. katherine, i. , _note_ , ii. ; cibber's account of, ii. . "tone" in speaking, i. , _note_ . trinity college, cambridge, caius cibber's statues on the library, i. ; particulars regarding these, i. , _note_ . underhill, cave, i. , i. , i. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his chief parts, i. - ; cibber's account of, i. - ; his particular excellence in stupid characters, i. ; the peculiarity of his facial expression, i. ; his retirement and last appearances, i. , _note_ ; his death, i. ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . underwood, john, originally a "chapel boy," i. xxxvii. union of companies in , i. xxxii., i. ; in , i. ; causes that led up to, ii. , ii. . valentini (valentini urbani), singer, i. , ii. , ii. . vanbrugh, sir john, i. , i. , i. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; his opinion of cibber's acting of richard iii., i. ; his "relapse," i. , i. ; his high opinion of cibber's acting, i. ; his "provoked wife," i. - ; in gratitude to sir thomas skipwith presents him with "the relapse," i. ; his "Æsop," i. , i. ; his great ability, i. ; alters his "provoked wife," ii. ; his share in the "provoked husband," i. , _note_ ; builds the queen's theatre, i. ; and congreve manage the queen's theatre, i. , i. ; his "confederacy," i. ; "the cuckold in conceit" (attributed to him), i. ; his "squire trelooby," i. ; his "mistake," i. ; sole proprietor of the queen's theatre, i. ; lets it to swiney, i. , i. , _note_ . vaughan, commissioner, ii. , _note_ . "venice preserved," ii. , _note_ . verbruggen, john, i. , _note_ ; mentioned, i. , i. ; hangs about downes, the prompter, i. , _note_ ; note regarding, i. , _note_ ; anthony aston's description of, ii. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . ---- mrs. see mrs. mountfort. vere street, clare market, theatre in, i. xxxii. versatility, cibber's views on, i. . victor, benjamin, ii. ; a story told by him of cibber's cowardice, i. , _note_ ; his "history of the theatres," i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. ; his "letters" quoted, i. , _note_ ; his "life of booth," i. , _note_ , ii. , _note_ . villains, cibber's views on, i. ; macready's views on, referred to, i. , _note_ ; e. s. willard mentioned as famous for representing, i. , _note_ ; on the acting of, i. . vizard-masks (women of the town), i. xxvii. see also masks. voltaire, his "zaïre," ii. . walker, obadiah, his change of religion, ii. . waller, edmund, altered the last act of the "maid's tragedy," ii. . walpole, horace, and cibber, ii. . warburton, bishop, mentioned, i. , _note_ , ii. . ward, professor a. w., his "english dramatic literature," i. , _note_ . warwick, earl of, his frolic with pope and cibber, ii. . weaver, john, his "loves of mars and venus," ii. , _note_ . webster, benjamin, i. , _note_ . "wedding, the," i. xxv. "weekly packet" quoted, ii. , _note_ . welsted, leonard, satirically mentioned by swift, i. , _note_ . westminster bridge, difficulties in getting permission to build, ii. . whig, the little (lady sunderland), i. . white's club, cibber a member, i. , _note_ . whitefriars, i. xlix. "whitehall evening post," cibber sends verses to, regarding himself, i. . whitelocke's "memorials," ii. , _note_ . wigs. see perriwigs. wildair, sir harry, i. . "wild-goose chase, the," i. xxv. wilks, robert, i. , _note_ , i. , i. , i. , ii. , _note_ , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. , ii. ; memoirs published immediately after his death, i. ; mistakes in his hamlet, i. , _note_ ; lives with mrs. rogers, i. ; distressed by pinkethman's "gagging," i. , _note_ ; his impetuous temper, i. , i. , _note_ , i. , _note_ , ii. , ii. - , ii. ; his return to drury lane from dublin, i. ; his commencing as actor, i. ; the contest between him and powell for supremacy at drury lane, i. - , i. - ; his wonderful memory, i. , i. ; his diligence and care, i. , ii. ; his good character, i. ; made chief actor at drury lane, under rich, i. ; his energy in managing, i. ; his disputes with cibber, i. ; his friendship with mills, i. ; as a prologue-speaker, i. ; the occasion of his coming to london, i. ; and mrs. oldfield playing in same pieces, i. ; made deputy-manager by brett, ii. , _note_ ; made joint-manager with swiney and others in , ii. ; advertisement regarding his salary, , ii. , _note_ ; his characteristics as a manager, ii. , ii. ; his patronage of his friends, ii. ; his behaviour on booth's claiming to become a manager, ii. , ii. ; his favour for mills, ii. ; his connection with steele during the dispute about steele's patent, ii. , _note_ ; his love of acting, ii. ; a genuine admirer of cibber, ii. , _note_ ; attacked by dennis, ii. , _note_ ; his excellence as macduff, ii. ; gives the part to williams, ii. ; but withdraws it, ii. ; complains of acting so much, ii. ; a scene between him and his partners, ii. - ; benefits arising from his enthusiasm for acting, ii. ; and booth, their opinion of each other, ii. ; formed his style on mountfort's, ii. ; cibber's comparison of booth and wilks, ii. - ; his othello, ii. ; death of, ii. ; memoir of, ii. , _note_ ; patent granted to him, cibber, and booth, after steele's death, ii. . wilks, mrs., inherits wilks's share in the patent, ii. ; delegates her authority to john ellys, ii. ; her share sold to fleetwood, ii. . willard, e. s., mentioned, i. , _note_ . william of orange, cibber a supporter of, at the revolution, i. ; made king, i. ; gives a licence to betterton, i. , _note_ . williams, charles, wilks gives him the part of macduff, ii. ; but withdraws it, ii. ; hissed in mistake for cibber, i. , _note_ . ---- joseph, mentioned, i. , i. ; bellchambers's memoir of, ii. . wiltshire (actor), leaves the stage for the army, i. ; killed in flanders, i. . winchester college, cibber stands for election to, and is unsuccessful, i. ; his brother, lewis cibber, is afterwards successful, i. ; his father presents a statue to, i. ; communication from the head master of, i. , _note_ . wintershal (actor), belonged to the salisbury court theatre, i. xxiv. woffington, margaret, her artistic feeling, i. , _note_ ; an anecdote wrongly connected with her, ii. . "woman's wit," cast of, i. , _note_ . women, their first introduction on the stage, i. xxxii., i. , _note_ , i. . wren, sir christopher, the designer of drury lane theatre, ii. . wright, james, his "history of rutlandshire," i. ; quoted, i. , _note_ ; his "historia histrionica," i. xix. wykeham, william of, cibber connected with by descent, i. . "ximena," cast of, ii. , _note_ . york, duke of (james ii.), at whitehall, i. . young, dr. edward, his "epistle to mr. pope" quoted, i. , _note_ . young actors, dearth of, ii. . end of vol. ii. [illustration] chiswick press:--c. whittingham and co., tooks court, chancery lane. footnotes [footnote : that is, "the beaux' stratagem," by farquhar, produced th march, . cibber played the part of gibbet.] [footnote : "lady's last stake; or, the wife's resentment," a comedy by cibber, produced th december, . lord wronglove mr. wilks. sir george brillant mr. cibber. sir friendly moral mr. keene. lady wronglove mrs. barry. lady gentle mrs. rogers. mrs. conquest mrs. oldfield. miss notable mrs. cross.] [footnote : "the double gallant; or, the sick lady's cure," a comedy by cibber, produced st november, . sir solomon sadlife mr. johnson. clerimont mr. booth. careless mr. wilks. atall mr. cibber. captain strut mr. bowen. sir squabble splithair mr. norris. saunter mr. pack. old mr. wilful mr. bullock. sir harry atall mr. cross. supple mr. fairbank. lady dainty mrs. oldfield. lady sadlife mrs. crosse. clarinda mrs. rogers. sylvia mrs. bradshaw. wishwell mrs. saunders. situp mrs. brown.] [footnote : the plays from which cibber compiled "the double gallant" are "love at a venture," "the lady's visiting day," and "the reformed wife" (genest, ii. ).] [footnote : eighteenpence was for many years the recognized price of plays when published.] [footnote : these were played on th january, st january, and th february, , in the order cibber gives them. the alteration of dryden's plays was done by cibber, and was called "marriage à la mode; or, the comical lovers." celadon mr. cibber. palamede mr. wilks. rhodophil mr. booth. melantha mrs. bracegirdle. florimel mrs. oldfield. doralice mrs. porter. i have not seen a copy of this, so take the cast from genest.] [footnote : an elephant was introduced into the pantomime of "harlequin and padmanaba," at covent garden, th december, . genest points out that one had appeared at smock alley theatre, dublin, in - .] [footnote : in mr. percy fitzgerald's "new history of the english stage" (ii. ) he gives an interesting memorandum by the hon. sir spencer ponsonby-fane regarding this point. it begins: "that the chamberlain's authority proceeded from the sovereign alone is clear, from the fact that no act of parliament, previous to the geo. ii., c. (passed in ), alludes to his licensing powers, though he was constantly exercising them."] [footnote : langbaine, in his "account of the english dramatick poets," , says (p. ): "_maids tragedy_, a play which has always been acted with great applause at the king's theatre; and which had still continu'd on the english stage, had not king _charles_ the _second_], for some particular reasons forbid its further appearance during his reign. it has since been reviv'd by mr. _waller_, the last act having been wholly alter'd to please the court." i think there can be little doubt that the last reason suggested by cibber was the real cause of the prohibition.] [footnote : produced at dorset garden, .] [footnote : produced at dorset garden, . see _ante_, vol. i. p. . i presume that the lines alluded to by cibber are:-- "never content with what you had before, but true to change, and englishmen all o'er."] [footnote : in the "biographia dramatica" (iii. ) the following note appears: "mary queen of scotland. a play under this title was advertised, among others, as sold by wellington, in st. paul's churchyard, in ." but the work cibber refers to is "the island queens; or, the death of mary queen of scots," a tragedy by john banks, printed in , but not produced till th march, , when it was played at drury lane as "the albion queens."] [footnote : "the unhappy favourite; or, the earl of essex," produced at the theatre royal, .] [footnote : "virtue betrayed; or, anna bullen," first acted at dorset garden, .] [footnote : bellchambers notes here that this order was superfluous, because the prohibition was inserted in the patents given to davenant and killigrew. but, whether superfluous or not, i find from the records of the lord chamberlain's office that this order was frequently made. on th april, , an edict was issued forbidding actors to desert from betterton's company; on th july, , desertions from either company were forbidden; and this latter order was reiterated on th may, .] [footnote : i do not know whether it is merely a coincidence, but it is curious that, after betterton got his license (on th march, ), an edict was issued that no one was to desert from his company to that of the theatre royal; while a general order against any desertion from either company to the other was not issued for more than three months after the first edict. the dates, as given in the records of the lord chamberlain's office, are th april and th july respectively. if this were intentional, it would form a curious commentary on cibber's statement.] [footnote : genest supposes that this incident occurred about june, . but the lord chamberlain's records of that time contain no note of it, and cibber's language scarcely bears the interpretation that three years elapsed between powell's leaving drury lane and returning to it, as was the case at that time; for he was at lincoln's inn fields for three seasons, to . i find, however, a warrant, dated th november, , to apprehend powell for refusing to act his part at the haymarket, so that the audience had to be dismissed, and for trying to raise a mutiny in the company. he was ordered to be confined in the porter's lodge until further notice. on the th november rich was informed that powell had deserted the haymarket, and was warned not to engage him. now these desertions must have followed each other pretty closely, for he was at drury lane in the beginning of ; at the haymarket in april of the same year; and about six months later had deserted the latter. the sequel to this difficulty seems to be the silencing of rich for receiving powell, on th march in the fifth year of queen anne's reign, that is, . unless the transcriber of the records has made a mistake in the year, powell was thus suspended for about eighteen months. it will be noticed that cibber does not say that he was acting the night after his release, but merely that he was behind the scenes.] [footnote : among the lord chamberlain's records is a copy of a decree suspending all performances at drury lane because powell had been allowed to play. this is dated rd may, . his offence was that he had drawn his sword on colonel stanhope and young davenant. the suspension was removed the following day; but on the th of the same month powell was forbidden to be received at either drury lane or dorset garden.] [footnote : a warrant was issued to apprehend dogget and take him to the knight marshall's prison, on rd november, , his offence being desertion of the company of drury lane and dorset garden. the records contain no note as to the termination of the matter; but this is, beyond doubt, the occasion referred to by cibber.] [footnote : horace, _epis._, i. , .] [footnote : at drury lane, th april, .] [footnote : this is a pretty way of putting what johnson, in his life of addison, afterwards stated in the well-known words: "the whigs applauded every line in which liberty was mentioned, as a satire on the tories; and the tories echoed every clap to show that the satire was unfelt." in the next paragraph johnson describes the play as "supported by the emulation of factious praise."] [footnote : i confess i do not know cibber's authority for this statement.] [footnote : "the laureat" abuses cibber for this sentence, declaring that he evidently considered "sophocles" to be the name of a tragedy. but cibber's method of expression, though curious, does not justify this attack.] [footnote : "caviare to the general."--"hamlet," act ii. sc. .] [footnote : malone supposes that skipwith acquired his shares from the killigrew family, but in the indenture by which he transferred his interest to brett, it seems as if he had acquired part of it from alexander davenant, and the remainder by buying up shares of the original adventurers. the indenture will be found at length in mr. percy fitzgerald's "new history of the english stage," i. . skipwith is described in the "biog. dram." (i. ) as "a weak, vain, conceited coxcomb." the proportion in which the shares were divided among the various holders is shown by the "opinion" of northey and raymond, in , to have been this: three-twentieths belonged to charles killigrew. the remainder was divided into tenths, of which two-tenths belonged to rich; the other eight parts were owned by the mortgagees or adventurers. if cibber's supposition is correct, two of these parts belonged to shipwith.] [footnote : it is dated th october, .] [footnote : as noted vol. i. p. , january, , old style; that is, january, .] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) says: "the heads of the english actors were, for a long time, covered with large full-bottomed perriwigs, a fashion introduced in the reign of charles ii., which was not entirely disused in public till about the year . addison, congreve, and steele, met at button's coffee-house, in large, flowing, flaxen wigs; booth, wilks, and cibber, when full-dressed, wore the same. till within these twenty-five years, our tamerlanes and catos had as much hair on their heads as our judges on the bench.... i have been told, that he [booth] and wilks bestowed forty guineas each on the exorbitant thatching of their heads."] [footnote : "the laureat," p. , relates with great acrimony an anecdote of colonel brett's reproving cibber harshly for his treatment of an author who had submitted a play to him. cibber is said to have opened the author's m.s., and, having read two lines only, to have returned it to him saying, "sir, it will not do." going to button's, he related his exploit with great glee, but was rebuked in the strongest terms by colonel brett, who is said to have put him to shame before the whole company. this is related as having occurred many years after the time cibber now writes of; the suggestion being that brett did not consider cibber as a friend.] [footnote : this was the countess of macclesfield, the supposed mother of richard savage, who had a large fortune in her own right, of which she was not deprived on her divorce from the earl of macclesfield. shortly after her divorce, probably about , she married brett. she lived to be eighty, or over it, dying th october, .] [footnote : a comedy by mountfort the actor, originally played at the theatre royal, . the part of young reveller was then taken by the author, and we have no record of cibber's playing it before ; but from this anecdote he must have done so ten years earlier.] [footnote : in boswell's life of johnson (i. ) there is a note by boswell himself:-- "miss mason, after having forfeited the title of lady macclesfield by divorce, was married to colonel brett, and, it is said, was well known in all the polite circles. colley cibber, i am informed, had so high an opinion of her taste and judgement as to genteel life, and manners, that he submitted every scene of his _careless husband_ to mrs. brett's revisal and correction. colonel brett was reported to be too free in his gallantry with his lady's maid. mrs. brett came into a room one day in her own house, and found the colonel and her maid both fast asleep in two chairs. she tied a white handkerchief round her husband's neck, which was a sufficient proof that she had discovered his intrigue; but she never at any time took notice of it to him. this incident, as i am told, gave occasion to the well-wrought scene of sir charles and lady easy and edging."] [footnote : see note, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : . see note on page of this vol.] [footnote : the edict which ordered this division of plays and operas is dated st december, . each theatre is ordered to confine itself to its own sphere on pain of being silenced; and no other theatre is permitted to be built. a copy of the edict is given by mr. percy fitzgerald ("new history," i. ), but it is not a _verbatim_ copy of the original in the lord chamberlain's office, though it contains all that is of importance in it.] [footnote : at the union, - , the lord chamberlain took measures to assert his supremacy. under date th january, , he orders that no actors are to be engaged at drury-lane who are not her majesty's servants, and he therefore directs the managers to send a list of all actors to be sworn in.] [footnote : bellchambers notes that mrs. tofts "sang in english, while her associates responded in italian."] [footnote : the whole passage regarding nicolini is:-- "i went on _friday_ last to the opera, and was surprised to find a thin house at so noble an entertainment, till i heard that the tumbler was not to make his appearance that night. for my own part, i was fully satisfied with the sight of an actor, who, by the grace and propriety of his action and gesture, does honour to an human figure, as much as the other vilifies and degrades it. every one will easily imagine i mean signior _nicolini_, who sets off the character he bears in an opera by his action, as much as he does the words of it by his voice. every limb, and every finger, contributes to the part he acts, insomuch that a deaf man might go along with him in the sense of it. there is scarce a beautiful posture in an old statue which he does not plant himself in, as the different circumstances of the story give occasion for it. he performs the most ordinary action in a manner suitable to the greatness of his character, and shows the prince even in the giving of a letter, or the dispatching of a message. our best actors are somewhat at a loss to support themselves with proper gesture, as they move from any considerable distance to the front of the stage; but i have seen the person of whom i am now speaking, enter alone at the remotest part of it, and advance from it with such greatness of air and mien, as seemed to fill the stage, and at the same time commanded the attention of the audience with the majesty of his appearance."--"tatler," no. , january rd, .] [footnote : an excellent account of mrs. tofts is given by mr. henry morley in a note on page of his valuable edition of the "spectator." she was the daughter of one of bishop burnet's household, and had great natural gifts. in she was obliged to quit the stage, her mental faculties having failed; but she afterwards recovered, and married mr. joseph smith, a noted art patron, who was appointed english consul at venice. her intellect again became disordered, and she died about the year .] [footnote : cibber's most notorious blunder in language was made in this sentence. in his first edition he wrote "was then _but_ an adept in it," completely reversing the meaning of the word "adept." fielding ("champion," nd april, ) declares cibber to be a most absolute master of english, "for surely he must be absolute master of that whose laws he can trample under feet, and which he can use as he pleases. this power he hath exerted, of which i shall give a _barbarous_ instance in the case of the poor word _adept_.... this word our great _master_ hath tortured and wrested to signify a _tyro_ or _novice_, being directly contrary to the sense in which it hath been hitherto used." it is of course conceivable that the error was a printer's error not corrected in reading the proof.] [footnote : nicolini was the stage name of the cavalier nicolo grimaldi. dr. burney says: "this great singer, and still greater actor, was a neapolitan; his voice was at first a _soprano_, but afterwards descended into a fine _contralto_." he first appeared, about , in rome, and paid his first visit to england in . valentini urbani was a _castrato_, his voice was not so strong as nicolini's, but his action was so excellent that his vocal defects were not noticed.--"general history of music," , iv. , .] [footnote : colonel brett, by an indenture dated st march, , made wilks, estcourt, and cibber, his deputies in the management of the theatre. genest (ii. ) says this was probably " st march, , old style," by which i suppose he means march, . but i cannot see why he should think this. brett entered into management in january, , and was probably out of it by march, . it may be that genest supposes that this indenture marks the end of brett's connection with the theatre; whereas it was probably one of his first actions. it will be remembered that he stated his intention of benefitting cibber by taking the patent (see _ante_, p. ). a copy of the indenture is given by mr. percy fitzgerald ("new history," ii. ). it is dated st march in the seventh year of queen anne's reign, that is, .] [footnote : on p. of vol. i. cibber says that rich (about ) had led the adventurers "a chace in chancery several years." from the petition presented in against the order silencing rich, we learn that the principal adventurers were: lord guilford, lord john harvey, dame alice brownlow, mrs. shadwell, sir edward smith, bart., sir thomas skipwith, bart., george sayer, charles killegrew, christopher rich, charles davenant, john metcalf, thomas goodall, ashburnham toll, ashburnham frowd, william east, richard middlemore, robert gower, and william collier. it is curious that everyone who has reproduced this list has, as far as i know, mistaken the name "frowd," calling it "trowd." the earliest reproduction of the list of names which i know is in the "dramatic censor," , col. iii.] [footnote : i do not know when sir thomas skipwith died; but in the petition of the adventurers, &c., is signed by, among others, sir thomas skipwith.] [footnote : this anecdote shows that rich had some sort of committee of shareholders to aid (or hinder) him. subsequent experience has shown, as witness the drury lane committee at the beginning of this century, how disastrous such form of management is.] [footnote : dr. doran ("their majesties' servants," edition, i. ) gives the following account of goodman's connection with this plot:-- "king james having saved cardell's neck, goodman, out of pure gratitude, perhaps, became a tory, and something more, when william sat in the seat of his father-in-law. after queen mary's death, scum was in the fenwick and charnock plot to kill the king. when the plot was discovered, scum was ready to peach. as fenwick's life was thought by his friends to be safe if goodman could be bought off and got out of the way, the rogue was looked for, at the _fleece_, in covent garden, famous for homicides, and at the robbers' and the revellers' den, the _dog_, in drury lane. fenwick's agent, o'bryan, erst soldier and highwayman, now a jacobite agent, found scum at the _dog_, and would then and there have cut his throat, had not scum consented to the pleasant alternative of accepting £ a year, and a residence abroad.... scum suddenly disappeared, and lord manchester, our ambassador in paris, inquired after him in vain. it is impossible to say whether the rogue died by an avenging hand, or starvation."] [footnote : this anecdote is valuable as establishing the identity of _captain_ griffin with the griffin who retired (temporarily) from the stage about . see note on page of vol. i.] [footnote : when betterton and his associates left the theatre royal and opened lincoln's inn fields theatre. see chapter vi.] [footnote : indulto--in spain, a duty, tax, or custom, paid to the king for all goods imported.] [footnote : in the "answer to steele's state of the case," (nichols's ed. p. ), it is said: "after mr. rich was again restored to the management of the play-house, he made an order to stop a certain proportion of the clear profits of every benefit-play without exception; which being done, and reaching the chief players as well as the underlings, zealous application was made to the lord chamberlain, to oblige mr. rich to return the money stopped to each particular. the dispute lasted some time, and mr. rich, not giving full satisfaction upon that head, was silenced; during the time of which silence, the chief players, either by a new license, or by some former (which i cannot absolutely determine, my memoirs being not at this time by me) set up for themselves, and got into the possession of the play-house in drury-lane."] [footnote : see _ante_, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : this warning is dated th april, , and is a very peremptory document. rich's treasurer is ordered to pay the actors the full receipts of their benefits, under deduction only of £ for the charges of the house. see the order for silence quoted _post_, page .] [footnote : mrs. bracegirdle retired in february, . mrs. barry played up to the end of the season, , that is, up to june, . she does not seem to have been engaged in - , but she was a member of the haymarket company in - .] [footnote : from chapter xvi. it will be seen that wilks's unfair partiality for john mills, whom he forced into prominence at booth's expense, was the leading reason for booth's remaining with rich.] [footnote : the order for silence has never, i believe, been quoted. i therefore give it in full. the theatre closed on the th of june, , which was saturday, and did not open again under rich's management, the order for silence being issued on the next monday. "_play house in covent garden silenc'd._ whereas by an order dated the ^{th} day of apr^{ll} last upon the peti{c~o}n of sev^{ll} players &c: i did then direct and require you to pay to the respective comedians who had benfit plays last winter the full receip^{ts} of such plays deducting only from each the sume of l. for the charges of the house pursuant to the articles made w^{th} y^m at y^e theatre in the haymarkett and w^{ch} were promis^d to be made good upon their removall to the theatre in covent garden. "and whereas i am inform^d y^t in contempt of the said ord^r y^u still refuse to pay and detain from the s^d comedians y^e profits of y^e s^d benefit plays i do therefore for the s^d contempt hereby silence you from further acting & require you not to perform any plays or other theatricall entertainm^{ts} till further ord^r; and all her maj^{ts} sworn comedians are hereby forbid to act any plays at y^e theatre in covent gard^n or else where w^{th}out my leave as they shall answer the contrary at their perill and &c: given &c: this ^{th} day of june in the eighth year of her majesty's reign. "(signed) kent. "to the manager or manag^{rs} } of her maj^{ts} company of comedi^{ns} } for their patentees." } i have copied this from the lord chamberlain's records.] [footnote : "_honoured sir_, _july_ . . "finding by divers of your late papers, that you are a friend to the profession of which i was many years an unworthy member, i the rather make bold to crave your advice, touching a proposal that has been lately made me of coming into business, and the sub-administration of stage affairs. i have, from my youth, been bred up behind the curtain, and been a prompter from the time of the restoration. i have seen many changes, as well of scenes as of actors, and have known men within my remembrance arrive to the highest dignities of the theatre, who made their entrance in the quality of mutes, joynt-stools, flower-pots, and tapestry hangings. it cannot be unknown to the nobility and gentry, that a gentleman of the inns of court, and a deep intriguer, had some time since worked himself into the sole management and direction of the theatre. nor is it less notorious, that his restless ambition, and subtle machinations, did manifestly tend to the extirpation of the good old _british_ actors, and the introduction of foreign pretenders; such as harlequins, _french_ dancers, and _roman_ singers; which, tho' they impoverish'd the proprietors, and imposed on the audience, were for some time tolerated, by reason of his dextrous insinuations, which prevailed upon a few deluded women, especially the vizard masks, to believe, that the stage was in danger. but his schemes were soon exposed, and the great ones that supported him withdrawing their favour, he made his _exit_, and remained for a season in obscurity. during this retreat the machiavilian was not idle, but secretly fomented divisions, and wrought over to his side some of the inferior actors, reserving a trap door to himself, to which only he had a key. this entrance secured, this cunning person, to compleat his company, bethought himself of calling in the most eminent of strollers from all parts of the kingdom. i have seen them all ranged together behind the scenes; but they are many of them persons that never trod the stage before, and so very aukward and ungainly, that it is impossible to believe the audience will bear them. he was looking over his catalogue of plays, and indeed picked up a good tolerable set of grave faces for counsellors, to appear in the famous scene of _venice preserved_, when the danger is over; but they being but meer outsides, and the actors having a great mind to play the _tempest_, there is not a man of them when he is to perform any thing above dumb show is capable of acting with a good grace so much as the part of _trincalo_. however, the master persists in his design, and is fitting up the old storm; but i am afraid he will not be able to procure able sailors or experienced officers for love or money. "besides all this, when he comes to cast the parts there is so great a confusion amongst them for want of proper actors, that for my part i am wholly discouraged. the play with which they design to open is, _the duke and no duke_; and they are so put to it, that the master himself is to act the conjurer, and they have no one for the general but honest _george powell_. "now, sir, they being so much at a loss for the _dramatis personæ_, _viz._ the persons to enact, and the whole frame of the house being designed to be altered, i desire your opinion, whether you think it advisable for me to undertake to prompt 'em: for tho' i can clash swords when they represent a battel, and have yet lungs enough to huzza their victories, i question, if i should prompt 'em right, whether they would act accordingly.--i am your honour's most humble servant, "j. downes. "_p.s._ sir, since i writ this, i am credibly informed, that they design a new house in _lincoln's-inn-fields_, near the popish chapel, to be ready by _michaelmas_ next; which indeed is but repairing an old one that has already failed. you know the honest man who kept the office is gone already."] [footnote : the chief actor who remained with rich was booth. among the others were powell, bickerstaffe, pack, keene, francis leigh, norris, mrs. bignell, mrs. moor, mrs. bradshaw, and mrs. knight.] [footnote : an interesting advertisement was published on rich's behalf in july, , which gives curious particulars regarding the actors' salaries. i quote it from "edwin's eccentricities," i. - , without altering the figures, which, as regards the pence, are rather eccentric:-- "advertisement concerning the poor actors, who, under pretence of hard usage from the patentees, are about to desert their service. "some persons having industriously spread about amongst the quality and others, what small allowances the chief actors have had this last winter from the patentees of drury lane play-house, as if they had received no more than so many poor palatines; it was thought necessary to print the following account. "the whole company began to act on the th of october, , and left off on the th of the same month, by reason of prince george's illness and death; and began again the th of december following, and left off upon the lord chamberlain's order, on the th of june last, . so acted, during that time, in all days, which is weeks and three days, accounting six acting days to a week. in that time £ s. d. to mr. wilkes, by salary, for acting, and taking care of the rehearsals; paid by his benefit play; total ------------- to mr. betterton by salary, for acting, _l._ a week for himself, and _l._ week for his wife, although she does not act; paid by a benefit play at common prices, besides what he got by high prices, and guineas; paid ------------- ------------- to mr. eastcourt, at _l._ a week salary; paid by a benefit play; paid ------------- ------------- to mr. cibber, at _l._ a week salary; paid by a benefit play; paid ------------- ------------- to mr. mills, at _l._ a week for himself, and _l._ a week for his wife, for little or nothing by a benefit play paid to him (not including therein what she got by a benefit play) ------------- ------------- to mrs. oldfield, at _l._ a week salary, which for weeks and one day; she leaving off acting presently after her benefit (viz.) on the th of march last, , though the benefit was intended for her whole nine months acting, and she refused to assist others in their benefits; her salary for these weeks and one day came to, and she was paid, in january she required, and was paid ten guineas, to wear on the stage in some plays, during the whole season, a mantua petticoat that was given her for the stage, and though she left off three months before she should, yet she hath not returned any part of the ten guineas and she had for wearing in some plays a suit of boys cloaths on the stage; paid by a benefit play; paid ------------- ------------- certainties in all ------------- "besides which certain sums above-mentioned, the same actors got by their benefit plays, as follows: £ s. d. note, that mr. betterton having had _l._ _s._ _d._ as above mentioned, for two-thirds of the profits by a benefit play, reckoning his tickets for the boxes at _s._ a piece, the pit at _s._ the first gallery at _s._ and the upper gallery at _s._----but the boxes, pit, and stage, laid together on his day, and no person admitted but by his tickets, the lowest at half a guinea a ticket; nay he had much more, for one lady gave him ten guineas, some five guineas, some two guineas, and most one guinea, supposing that he designed not to act any more, and he delivered tickets out for more persons, than the boxes, pit, and stage could hold; it is thought he cleared at least _l._ over and besides the _l._ _s._ _d._ 'tis thought mr. estcourt cleared _l._ besides the said _l._ _s._ _d._ that mr. wilkes cleared by guineas, as it is thought, about _l._ besides the said _l._ _s._ _d._ that mr. cibber got by guineas, as it is thought, about _l._ besides the said _l._ _s._ _d._ that mr. mills got by guineas about _l._ as it is thought, besides the said _l._ _s._ _d._ that mrs. oldfield, it is thought, got _l._ by guineas over and above the said _l._ _s._ _d._ ------------- in all ------------- "so that these six comedians, who are the unsatisfied people, have between the th of october and the th of june last, cleared in all the following sums: £ s. d. acted times, mr. wilkes certain and more by computation ------------- both ------------- acted times, mr. betterton certain and more by computation ------------- ------------- acted times, mr. estcourt certain and more by computation ------------- ------------- acted times, mr. cibber certain and more by computation ------------- ------------- acted -- times, mr. mills certain and more by computation ------------- ------------- acted times, mrs. oldfield certain and more by computation ------------- ------------- in all ------------- "had not acting been forbid seven weeks on the occasion of prince george's death, and my lord chamberlain forbad acting about five weeks before the tenth of july instant; each of these actors would have had twelve weeks salary more than is above-mentioned. "as to the certainties expressed in this paper, to be paid to the six actors, the same are positively true: and as to the sums they got over and above such certainties, i believe the same to be true, according to the best of my computation. "witness my hand, who am receiver and treasurer at the theatre royal, drury lane, "july th, . "zachary baggs."] [footnote : it was opened th december, .] [footnote : the lord chamberlain's records enable an exact account to be given of the transactions which led to the formation of this haymarket company. after rich was silenced, his actors petitioned the lord chamberlain on three separate occasions, namely, th june, th june, and th july, , and in answer to their petitions, the haymarket, which was then devoted solely to opera, was permitted to be used for plays also. in an answer to the actors' petitions, the lord chamberlain permits the manager of the haymarket to engage such of them as he wished, and to act plays four times a week, the other days being devoted to operas. this license is dated th july, . this is, of course, only a formal sanction of the private arrangement mentioned by cibber _ante_ p. ; and was resented by booth and others who were in rich's favour. they therefore petitioned the queen direct, in despite of the lord chamberlain (see "dramatic censor," , col. ; genest, ii. ; mr. fitzgerald's "new history," i. ), but no result followed, until collier's advent, as is related further on.] [footnote : the description of the shape of the stage which follows is interesting and valuable. in early times the stage was a platform surrounded by the audience, not, as now, a picture framed by the proscenium. this is evident, not only from descriptive allusions, but from the two drawings which have come down to us of the interior of pre-restoration theatres--de witt's drawing of the swan theatre in , reproduced in herr gaedertz's "zur kenntniss der altenglischen bühne" (bremen, ), and the well-known print of the red bull theatre during the commonwealth, which forms the frontispiece to kirkman's "the wits, or sport upon sport" ( ). in both of them the pit entirely surrounds the stage on three sides, while the fourth side also contains spectators in boxes placed above the entrance-doors. by gradual modifications the shape of the stage has changed, till now the audience is confined to one side. the doors used for entrances and exits, to which cibber alludes, have disappeared comparatively recently. they may be seen, for instance, in cruikshank's plates to dickens's "grimaldi."] [footnote : the haymarket opened on th september, , and there was no rival theatre till rd november, when drury lane opened; but from this latter date till the end of the season both theatres were open.] [footnote : bellchambers has here the following note:--"the monarch alluded to, i suppose, was victor amadeus, king of sardinia. carlo broschi, better known by the name of farinelli, was born in the dukedom of modena, in , and suffered emasculation, from an accident, when young. the spanish king ferdinand created him a knight of calatrava, honoured him with his friendship, and added to his fortune. he returned to italy on his patron's death, and died in ."] [footnote : francesca cuzzoni and faustina bordoni hasse, whose famous rivalry in and is here referred to, were singers of remarkable powers. cuzzoni's voice was a _soprano_, her rival's a _mezzo-soprano_, and while the latter excelled in brilliant execution, the former was supreme in pathetic expression. dr. burney ("history of music," iv. ) quotes from m. quantz the statement that so keen was their supporters' party spirit, that when one party began to applaud their favourite, the other party hissed!] [footnote : horace, _epod._ xvi. .] [footnote : see note on page .] [footnote : the trial opened on th february, , and lasted for more than three weeks. the political excitement it caused must have done great harm to theatricals. shadwell, in the preface to "the fair quaker of deal," mentioned _post_, page , says it was a success, "notwithstanding the trial in westminster-hall, and the rehearsal of the new opera."] [footnote : in the british museum will be found a copy of the report by the attorney-general and solicitor-general, who were ordered by queen anne to inquire into this business. rich declared that collier broke into the theatre with an armed mob of soldiers, &c., but collier denied the soldiers, though he admitted the breaking in. he gave as his authority for taking possession a letter signed by sir james stanley, dated th november, , by which the queen gave him authority to act, and required him not to allow rich to have any concern in the theatre. his authority was appointed to run from rd november, .] [footnote : "tatler," no. , th november, : "_divito_ [rich] was too modest to know when to resign it, till he had the opinion and sentence of the law for his removal.... the lawful ruler [of drury lane] sets up an attorney to expel an attorney, and chose a name dreadful to the stage [that is collier], who only seemed able to beat _divito_ out of his intrenchments. "on the d instant, a night of public rejoycing, the enemies of _divito_ made a largess to the people of faggots, tubs, and other combustible matter, which was erected into a bonfire before the palace. plentiful cans were at the same time distributed among the dependences of that principality; and the artful rival of _divito_ observing them prepared for enterprize, presented the lawful owner of the neighbouring edifice, and showed his deputation under him. war immediately ensued upon the peaceful empire of wit and the muses; _the goths_ and _vandals_ sacking _rome_ did not threaten a more barbarous devastation of arts and sciences. but when they had forced their entrance, the experienced _divito_ had detached all his subjects, and evacuated all his stores. the neighbouring inhabitants report, that the refuse of _divito_'s followers marched off the night before disguised in magnificence; door-keepers came out clad like cardinals, and scene-drawers like heathen gods. _divito_ himself was wrapped up in one of his black clouds, and left to the enemy nothing but an empty stage, full of trap-doors, known only to himself and his adherents."] [footnote : barton booth, theophilus keen, norris, john bickerstaffe, george powell, francis leigh, george pack, mrs. knight, mrs. bradshaw, and mrs. moore were collier's chief performers. as most of them had signed the petition in rich's favour which i mentioned in a note on page , it is not wonderful that disturbances soon arose. collier appointed aaron hill to manage the company, and his post seems to have been a somewhat lively one. on th june, , the lord chamberlain's records contain an entry which proves how rebellious the company were. powell, booth, bickerstaffe, keen, and leigh, are stated to have defied and beaten aaron hill, to have broken open the doors of the theatre, and made a riot generally. for this powell is discharged, and the others suspended. mr. fitzgerald ("new history," i. _et seq._) quotes a letter from hill, in which some account of this matter is given.] [footnote : charles shadwell's "fair quaker of deal" was produced at drury lane on th february, . in the preface the author says, "this play was written about three years since, and put into the hands of a famous comedian belonging to the haymarket playhouse, who took care to beat down the value of it so much, as to offer the author to alter it fit to appear on the stage, on condition he might have half the profits of the third day, and the dedication entire; that is as much as to say, that it may pass for one of his, according to custom. the author not agreeing to this reasonable proposal, it lay in his hands till the beginning of this winter, when mr. booth read it, and liked it, and persuaded the author, that, with a little alteration, it would please the town" (bell's edition). if, as is likely, cibber is the actor referred to, his abuse of the play and the actors is not unintelligible.] [footnote : hester santlow, the "santlow, fam'd for dance" of gay, married barton booth. she appears to have retired from the stage about . genest (iii. ) says, "she seems to have been a pleasing actress with no great powers." her reputation was none of the best before her marriage, for she was said to have been the mistress of the duke of marlborough and of secretary craggs. see memoir of booth.] [footnote : genest (ii. ) has the following outspoken character of rich: "he seems in his public capacity of patentee and manager to have been a despicable character--without spirit to bring the power of the lord chamberlain to a legal test--without honesty to account to the other proprietors for the receipts of the theatre--without any feeling for his actors--and without the least judgment as to players and plays."] [footnote : rich's patent was revived, as cibber states (p. ), in , when it was the property of his son, john rich.] [footnote : there is no more curious transaction in theatrical history than the acquisition of the entire right in the patent by rich and his son. christopher rich's share (see note on p. ) was seventeen one-hundredths, or about one-sixth; yet, by obstinate dishonesty, he succeeded in annexing the remainder.] [footnote : in march, .] [footnote : there has been some doubt as to the locality of the theatre in little lincoln's inn fields, in which betterton acted, one authority at least holding that he played in gibbons' tennis court in vere street, clare market. but cibber distinctly states that rich rented the building which betterton left in , and old maps of london show clearly that rich's theatre was in portugal street, just opposite the end of the then unnamed street, now called carey street. in "a new and exact plan of the cities of london and westminster," published th august, , by george foster, "the new play house" is given as the name of this building, and it is worthy of notice that cibber, a few lines above, writes of "the new theatre in lincoln's inn fields." see also vol. i. p. , note , where i quote downes, who calls betterton's theatre the new theatre in lincoln's inn fields. about this house was made a barrack; it was afterwards an auction room; then the china repository of messrs. spode and copeland, and was ultimately pulled down about to make room for the extension of the museum of the royal college of surgeons.] [footnote : the licence to swiney, wilks, cibber, and dogget, for drury lane, is dated th november, . in it swiney's name is spelled "swyny," and cibber's "cybber."] [footnote : westminster bridge was authorized to be built in the face of virulent opposition from the corporation of london, who feared that its existence would damage the trade of the city. dr. potter, archbishop of canterbury, and others interested, applied for an act of parliament in ; the bridge was begun in , and not finished till , the opening ceremony being held on th november of that year. until this time the only bridge was london bridge. see "old and new london," iii. .] [footnote : i presume the noble commissioner is the earl of pembroke, who laid the first stone of the bridge on th january, .] [footnote : collier seems to have relied on aaron hill in all his theatrical enterprises, for, as previously noted, hill had been manager for him at drury lane.] [footnote : at the end of the season - . see _ante_, p. .] [footnote : collier's treatment of swiney was so discreditable, that when he in his turn was evicted from drury lane ( ) we cannot help feeling gratified at his downfall.] [footnote : swiney's licence for the opera is dated th april, .] [footnote : for a further account of steele's being given a share of the patent, which he got through marlborough's influence, see the beginning of chapter xv.] [footnote : see vol. i. - .] [footnote : that is, he had been the chief of collier's company at drury lane at his opening in november, . see _ante_, p. .] [footnote : martial, x. , .] [footnote : this is a blunder, which, by the way, bellchambers does not correct. "cato" was produced at drury lane on th april, . the cast was:-- cato mr. booth. lucius mr. keen. sempronius mr. mills. juba mr. wilks. syphax mr. cibber. portius mr. powell. marcus mr. ryan. decius mr. bowman. marcia mrs. oldfield. lucia mrs. porter.] [footnote : "the laureat" says these irish actors were elrington and griffith, but i venture to think that evans's name should be substituted for that of griffith. all three came from ireland to drury lane in ; but, while elrington and evans played many important characters, griffith did very little. again, i can find no record of the latter's benefit, but the others had benefits in the best part of the season. the fact that they had _separate_ benefits makes my theory contradict cibber on this one point; but what he says may have occurred in connection with one of the two benefits. cibber's memory is not infallible.] [footnote : genest's record gives wilks about one hundred and fifty different characters, dogget only about sixty.] [footnote : horace, _ars poetica_, .] [footnote : see note on page .] [footnote : johnson (life of addison) terms this "the despicable cant of literary modesty."] [footnote : th april, . see note on page .] [footnote : mrs. oldfield, powell, mills, booth, pinkethman, and mrs. porter, had their benefits before "cato" was produced. "cato" was then acted twenty times--april th to may th--that is, every evening except monday in each week, as cibber states. on monday nights the benefits continued--being one night in the week instead of three. johnson, keen, and mrs. bicknell had their benefits during the run of "cato," and on may th the regular benefit performances recommenced, mrs. rogers taking her benefit on that night.] [footnote : the duke of marlborough is the person pointed at.] [footnote : theo. cibber ("life of booth," p. ) says that booth in his early days as an actor became intimate with lord bolingbroke, and that this "was of eminent advantage to mr. _booth_,--when, on his great success in the part of cato (of which he was the original actor) my lord's interest (then secretary of state) established him as a manager of the theatre."] [footnote : there are five prologues by dryden spoken at oxford; one in , and the others probably about .] [footnote : james ii.] [footnote : obadiah walker, born , died , is famous only for the change of religion to which cibber's anecdote refers. macaulay ("history," , ii. - ) relates the story of his perversion, and in the same volume, page , refers to the incident here told by cibber.] [footnote : . the performance on rd june, , was announced as the last that season, as the company were obliged to go immediately to oxford.] [footnote : dryden writes, in one of his prologues (about ), to the university of oxford:-- "when our fop gallants, or our city folly, clap over-loud, it makes us melancholy: we doubt that scene which does their wonder raise, and, for their ignorance, contemn their praise. judge, then, if we who act, and they who write, should not be proud of giving you delight. london likes grossly; but this nicer pit examines, fathoms, all the depths of wit; the ready finger lays on every blot; knows what should justly please, and what should not."] [footnote : in a prologue by dryden, spoken by hart in , at oxford, the poet says:-- "none of our living poets dare appear; for muses so severe are worshipped here, that, conscious of their faults, they shun the eye, and, as profane, from sacred places fly, rather than see the offended god, and die." malone (dryden's prose works, vol. i. part ii. p. ) gives a letter from dryden to lord rochester, in which he says: "your lordship will judge [from the success of these prologues, &c.] how easy 'tis to pass anything upon an university, and how gross flattery the learned will endure."] [footnote : theo. cibber ("life of booth," p. ) says that colley cibber and booth "used frequently to set out, after play (in the month of _may_) to _windsor_, where the _court_ then was, to push their different interests." chetwood ("history," p. ) states that the other patentees "to prevent his solliciting his patrons at court, then at _windsor_, gave out plays every night, where mr. _booth_ had a principal part. notwithstanding this step, he had a chariot and six of a nobleman's waiting for him at the end of every play, that whipt him the twenty miles in three hours, and brought him back to the business of the theatre the next night."] [footnote : the new licence was dated th november, . dogget's name was of course included as well as booth's.] [footnote : this must have been in november, .] [footnote : the right hon. thomas coke.] [footnote : the dates regarding this quarrel with dogget are very difficult to fix satisfactorily. in the collection of mr. francis harvey of st. james's street are some valuable letters by dogget in connection with this matter. from these, and from mr. percy fitzgerald's "new history" (i. - ), i have made up a list of dates, which, however, i give with all reserve. we know from "the laureat" that dogget had some funds of the theatre in his hands when he ceased acting, and this fact makes a petition by cibber and wilks, that he should account with them for money, intelligible. this is dated th january, --it cannot be , as mr. fitzgerald says, for booth was not admitted then, and the quarrel had not arisen. then follows a petition from cibber, booth, and wilks, dated th february, , praying the chamberlain to settle the dispute. petitions by dogget bear date th april, ; and, i think, th june, . mr. fitzgerald gives this latter date as th january, , and certainly the date on the document itself is more like "jan" than "june;" but in the course of the petition dogget says that the season will end in a few days, which seems to fix june as the correct month. the season - ended th june, . next comes a petition that dogget should be compelled to act if he was to draw his share of the profits, which is dated rd november, . in this case we are on sure ground, for the petition is preserved among the lord chamberlain's papers. another petition by dogget, in which he talks of his being forced into westminster hall to obtain his rights, is dated "jan. ye ," that is, . after this, legal action was no doubt commenced, as related by cibber.] [footnote : so full an account of dogget is given by cibber and by aston, that i need only add, that he first appeared about ; and that he died in .] [footnote : see memoir of mrs. porter at the end of this volume.] [footnote : on march th, . cibber is wrong in stating that this was dogget's last appearance; for a week after he played ben in "love for love" (march th, ), and made his last appearance, after the lapse of another week (april st, ), when he acted hob in "the country wake."] [footnote : downes ("rosc. ang.," p. ) gives a quaint description of dogget: "mr. _dogget_, on the stage, he's very aspectabund, wearing a farce in his face; his thoughts deliberately framing his utterance congruous to his looks: he is the only comick original now extant: witness, _ben. solon_, _nikin_, the _jew_ of _venice_, &c."] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "thy partiality is so notorious, with relation to _wilks_, that every one sees you never praise him, but to rail at him; and only oil your hone, to whet your razor."] [footnote : .] [footnote : in the dedication to steele of "ximena" ( ) cibber warmly acknowledges the great service steele had done to the theatre, not only in improving the tone of its performances, but also in the mere attracting of public attention to it. "how many a time," he says, "have we known the most elegant audiences drawn together at a day's warning, by the influence or warrant of a single _tatler_, when our best endeavours without it, could not defray the charge of the performance." in the same dedication cibber's gratitude overstepped his judgment, in applying to steele's generous acknowledgment of his indebtedness to addison's help in his "spectator," &c., dryden's lines:-- "fool that i was! upon my eagle's wings i bore this wren, 'till i was tir'd with soaring, and now, he mounts above me----" the following epigram is quoted in "the laureat," p. . it originally appeared in "mist's journal," st october, :-- "_thus_ colley cibber _to his partner_ steele, _see here, sir knight, how i've outdone_ corneille; _see here, how i, my patron to inveigle, make_ addison _a_ wren, _and you an_ eagle. _safe to the silent shades, we bid defiance; for living dogs are better than dead lions_." in one of his odes, at which johnson laughed (boswell, i. ) cibber had the couplet:-- "perch'd on the eagle's soaring wing, the lowly linnet loves to sing." "ximena; or, the heroic daughter," produced on th november, , was an adaptation of corneille's "cid." we do not know the cast of , but that of (drury lane, st november) was the following:-- don ferdinand mr. mills. don alvarez mr. cibber. don gormaz mr. booth. don carlos mr. wilks. don sanchez mr. elrington. don alonzo mr. thurmond. don garcia mr. boman. ximena mrs. oldfield. belzara mrs. porter.] [footnote : a royal licence was granted on th october, , to steele, wilks, cibber, dogget, and booth. the theatre opened before the licence was granted. the first bill given by genest is for st september, .] [footnote : christopher rich died before the theatre was opened, and it was under the management of john rich, his son, that lincoln's inn fields opened on th december, , with "the recruiting officer." the company was announced as playing under letters patent granted by king charles the second.] [footnote : this refers to a riot raised by the supporters of mrs. rogers, on mrs. oldfield's being cast for the character of andromache in philips's tragedy of "the distressed mother," produced at drury lane on th march, .] [footnote : cibber on one occasion manifested temper to a rather unexpected degree. in , when dennis published his attacks on steele, in connection with his being deprived of the patent, he accused cibber of impiety and various other crimes and misdemeanours; and cibber is said in the "answer to the character of sir john edgar" to have inserted the following advertisement in the "daily post": "ten pounds will be paid by mr. cibber, of the theatre royal, to any person who shall (by a legal proof) discover the author of a pamphlet, intituled, 'the characters and conduct of sir john edgar, &c.'" (nichols, p. .)] [footnote : cibber refers to his remarks (see vol. i. p. ) on the conduct of the patentees which caused betterton's secession in - .] [footnote : in addition to keen, bullock (william), pack, and leigh, whom cibber mentions a few lines after, spiller and christopher bullock were among the deserters; and probably cory and knap. mrs. rogers, mrs. knight, and mrs. kent also deserted.] [footnote : george pack is an actor of whom chetwood ("history," p. ) gives some account. he first came on the stage as a singer, performing the female parts in duets with leveridge. his first appearance chronicled by genest was at lincoln's inn fields in , as westmoreland in the first part of "henry iv." chetwood says he was excellent as marplot in "the busy body," beau maiden in "tunbridge walks," beau mizen in "the fair quaker of deal," &c.: "_indeed nature seem'd to mean him for those sort of characters_." on th march, , he announced his last appearance on any stage; but he returned on st april and th may, , on which latter date he had a benefit. chetwood says that on his retirement he opened the globe tavern, near charing-cross, over against the hay-market. when chetwood wrote ( ) pack was no longer alive.] [footnote : francis leigh. there were several actors of the name of leigh, and it is sometimes difficult to distinguish them. this particular actor died about .] [footnote : in the "weekly packet," th december, , the following appears:-- "this day the new play-house in lincolns-inn fields, is to be open'd and a comedy acted there, call'd, the recruiting officer, by the company that act under the patent; tho' it is said, that some of the gentlemen who have left the house in drury-lane for that service, are order'd to return to their colours, upon pain of not exercising their lungs elsewhere; which may in time prove of ill service to the patentee, that has been at vast expence to make his theatre as convenient for the reception of an audience as any one can possibly be." genest remarks that this seems to show that the lord chamberlain threatened to interfere in the interests of drury lane. he adds: "cibber's silence proves nothing to the contrary, as in more than one instance he does not tell the whole truth" (ii. ). in defence of cibber i may say that the chamberlain's records contain no hint that he threatened to interfere with the lincoln's inn fields theatre or its actors.] [footnote : in both the first and second editions cibber writes , but this is so obviously a misprint that i correct the text. steele was elected for boroughbridge in the first parliament of george i., which met th march, .] [footnote : "the very night i received it, i participated the power and use of it, with relation to the profits that should arise from it, between the gentlemen who invited me into the licence."--steele, in "the theatre," no. [nichols, p. ].] [footnote : the managers also expended money on the decoration of the theatre before the beginning of the next season after the patent was granted. in the "daily courant," th october, , they advertise: "his majesty's company of comedians give notice, that the middle of next week they will begin to act plays, every day, as usual; they being oblig'd to lye still so long, to finish the new decorations of the house."] [footnote : this revival was on nd december, . dennis, whose "invader of his country" was, as he considered, unfairly postponed on account of this production, wrote to steele:-- "well, sir, when the winter came on, what was done by your deputies? why, instead of keeping their word with me, they spent above two months of the season in getting up "all for love, or, the world well lost," a play which has indeed a noble first act, an act which ends with a scene becoming of the dignity of the tragic stage. but if horace had been now alive, and been either a reader or spectator of that entertainment, he would have passed his old sentence upon the author. "'_infelix operis summâ, quia ponere totum nesciet._'" [_ars poetica, ._] nichols' "theatre," p. .] [footnote : cibber here skips a few years, for the report by sir thomas hewitt is dated some years after the granting of the patent. the text of it will be found in nichols's "theatre," p. :-- "my lord, _scotland-yard, jan. , _. "in obedience to his majesty's commands signified to me by your grace the th instant, i have surveyed the play-house in drury-lane; and took with me mr. ripley, commissioner of his majesty's board of works, the master bricklayer, and carpenter: we examined all its parts with the greatest exactness we could; and found the walls, roofing, stage, pit, boxes, galleries, machinery, scenes, &c. sound, and almost as good as when first built; neither decayed, nor in the least danger of falling; and when some small repairs are made, and an useless stack of chimnies (built by the late mr. rich) taken down, the building may continue for a long time, being firm, the materials and joints good, and no part giving way; and capable to bear much greater weight than is put on them. "my lord duke, "your grace's most humble and obedient servant, "thomas hewett. "n.b. the stack of chimnies mentioned in this report (which were placed over the stone passage leading to the boxes) are actually taken down."] [footnote : see _ante_, vol. i. p. .] [footnote : cibber, vol. i. p. , relates how, when the king's company proved too strong for their rivals, davenant, "to make head against their success, was forced to add spectacle and music to action."] [footnote : in the season - , rich at lincoln's inn fields frequently produced french pieces and operas. he must have had a company of french players engaged.] [footnote : this is, no doubt, john weaver's dramatic entertainment called "the loves of mars and venus," which was published, as acted at drury lane, in .] [footnote : the following lines ("dunciad," iii. verses - ) are descriptive of such pantomimes as cibber refers to:-- "he look'd, and saw a sable sorc'rer rise, swift to whose hand a winged volume flies: all sudden, gorgons hiss, and dragons glare, and ten-horn'd fiends and giants rush to war. hell rises, heav'n descends, and dance on earth, gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and mirth, a fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball, till one wide conflagration swallows all. thence a new world, to nature's laws unknown, breaks out refulgent, with a heav'n its own: another cynthia her new journey runs, and other planets circle other suns: the forests dance, the rivers upward rise, whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies, and last, to give the whole creation grace, lo! one vast egg produces human race." the allusion in the last line is to "harlequin sorcerer," in which harlequin is hatched from a large egg on the stage. see jackson's "history of the scottish stage," pages - , for description of john rich's excellence in this scene.] [footnote : in the "dunciad" (book iii. verses - ) pope writes:-- "but lo! to dark encounter in mid air new wizards rise: here booth, and cibber there: booth in his cloudy tabernacle shrin'd, on grinning dragons cibber mounts the wind." on these lines cibber remarks, in his "letter to mr. pope," (page ): "if you, figuratively, mean by this, that i was an encourager of those fooleries, you are mistaken; for it is not true: if you intend it literally, that i was dunce enough to mount a machine, there is as little truth in that too."] [footnote : henry of navarre, of whom it has been said that he regarded religion mainly as a diplomatic instrument.] [footnote : it is hardly necessary to note that this was the scottish rebellion of ; yet bellchambers indicates the period as .] [footnote : cibber's most notorious play, "the nonjuror," was produced at drury lane on th december, . the cast was:-- sir john woodvil mr. mills. colonel woodvil mr. booth. mr. heartly mr. wilks. doctor wolf mr. cibber. charles mr. walker. lady woodvil mrs. porter. maria mrs. oldfield.] [footnote : genest (ii. ) quotes the epilogue to sewell's "sir walter raleigh," produced at lincoln's inn fields th january, :-- "yet to write plays is easy, faith, enough, as you have seen by--cibber--in tartuffe. with how much wit he did your hearts engage! he only stole the _play_;--he writ the _title-page_."] [footnote : genest says it was acted twenty-three times.] [footnote : genest remarks (ii. ) that "cibber deserved all the abuse and enmity that he met with--the stage and the pulpit ought never to dabble in politics." theo. cibber, in a petition to the king, given in his "dissertations" (letter to garrick, p. ), says that his father's "writings, and public professions of loyalty, created him many enemies, among the disaffected."] [footnote : "mist's weekly journal" was an anti-hanoverian sheet, which was prominent in opposition to the protestant succession. nathaniel mist, the proprietor, and, i suppose, editor, suffered sundry pains and penalties for his jacobitism. in his preface to the second volume of "letters" selected from his paper, he relates how he had, among other things, suffered imprisonment and stood in the pillory.] [footnote : there can be little doubt that the "nonjuror" was one of the causes of pope's enmity to cibber. pope's father was a nonjuror. see "epistle to dr. arbuthnot," where the poet says of his father:-- "no courts he saw, no suits would ever try, nor dar'd an oath, nor hazarded a lie."] [footnote : produced th january, . see vol. i. p. , for list of characters, &c.] [footnote : meaning, no doubt, that the post of poet laureate was given to him as a reward for his services to the government.] [footnote : .] [footnote : in leaping from to , as cibber does here, he omits to notice much that is of the greatest interest in stage history. steele's connection with the theatre was of a chequered complexion, and it is curious as well as regrettable that an interested observer like cibber should have simply ignored the great points which were at issue while steele was a sharer in the patent. in order to bridge over the chasm i give a bare record of steele's transactions in connection with the patent. his first authority was a licence granted to him and his partners, wilks, cibber, dogget, and booth, and dated october th, . this was followed by a patent, in steele's name alone, for the term of his life, and three years after his death, which bore date january th, . cibber (p. ) relates that steele assigned to wilks, booth, and himself, equal shares in this patent. all went smoothly for more than two years, until the appointment of the duke of newcastle (april th, ) as lord chamberlain. he seems soon to have begun to interfere in the affairs of the theatre. steele, in the eighth number of "the theatre," states that shortly after his appointment the duke demanded that he should resign his patent and accept a licence in its place. this steele naturally and rightly declined to do, and here the matter rested for many months. with reference to this it is interesting to note that among the lord chamberlain's papers is the record of a consultation of the attorney-general whether steele's patent made him independent of the lord chamberlain's authority. unfortunately it is impossible to decide, from the terms of the queries put to the attorney-general, whether these were caused by aggressive action on steele's part, or merely by his defence of his rights. the next molestation was an order, dated december th, , addressed to steele, wilks, and booth, ordering them to dismiss cibber; which they did. his suspension, for it was nothing more, lasted till january th, . steele, in the seventh number of "the theatre," january rd, , alludes to his suspension as then existing, and in no. talks of cibber's being just restored to the "begging bridge," that is, the theatre. the allusion is to an apologue by steele ("reader," no. ii.) which cibber quotes, and applies to steele, in his dedication of "ximena" to him. a peasant had succeeded in barricading, with his whole belongings, a bridge over which an enemy attempted to invade his native country. he kept them back till his countrymen were roused; but when the forces of his friends attacked the enemy, the peasant's property was destroyed in the fray and he was left destitute. he received no compensation, but it was enacted that he and his descendants were alone to have the privilege of _begging_ on this bridge. cibber applies this fable to the treatment of steele by the lord chamberlain, and there can be no doubt that this dedication must have caused great offence to that official, and contributed materially to cibber's suspension, though steele declared that the attack upon his partner was merely intended as an oblique attack on himself. the author of the "answer to the case of sir richard steele," (nichols's ed., p. ), says that cibber had offended the duke by an attack on the king and the ministry in the dedication of his "ximena" to steele. he also says that when the chamberlain wanted a certain actor to play a part which belonged to one of the managers, cibber flatly refused to allow him, and was thereupon silenced. (the actor is said to have been elrington, and the part torrismond; but i doubt if elrington was at drury lane in - .) a recent stage historian curiously says that the play which gave offence was "the nonjuror," which is about as likely as that a man should be accused of high treason because he sang "god save the queen!" steele then, being made to understand that the attack on cibber was the beginning of evil directed against himself, wrote to two great ministers of state, and presented a petition to the king on january nd, , praying to be protected from molestation by the lord chamberlain. the result of this action was a revocation of steele's licence (_not_ his patent specially, which is curious) dated january rd, ; and on the next monday, the th, an order for silence was sent to the managers and actors at drury lane. the theatre accordingly remained closed monday, tuesday, and wednesday, january th to th, , and on the th re-opened, wilks, cibber, and booth having made their submission and received a licence dated the previous day. on the th of march following the actors of drury lane were sworn at the lord chamberlain's office, "pursuant to an order occasioned by their acting in obedience to his majesty's licence, lately granted, exclusive of a patent formerly obtained by sir richard steele, knight." the tenor of the oath was, that as his majesty's servants they should act subservient to the lord chamberlain, vice-chamberlain, and gentleman-usher in waiting. whether steele took any steps to test the legality of this treatment is doubtful; but, on the accession of his friend walpole to office, he was restored to his position at the head of the theatre. on may nd, , cibber and his partners were ordered to account with steele for his past and present share of the profits of the theatre, as if all the regulations from which his name had been excluded had never been made. this edict is signed by the duke of newcastle, and must, i fancy, have been rather a bitter pill for that nobleman. how steele subsequently conducted himself, and how much interest he took in the theatre, cibber very fully relates in the next few pages. after steele's death a new patent was granted to cibber, wilks, and booth, as will be related further on. it may be noted here, however, that the date of the new patent proves conclusively that steele's grant was never superseded. the new power was dated july rd, , but it did not take effect till september st, , exactly three years after steele's death, according to the terms of his original patent.] [footnote : this is one of cibber's bad blunders. the case was heard in . genest (iii. ) refers to the _st. james's evening post's_ mention of the hearing; and, in the burney mss. in the british museum, a copy of the paragraph is given. it is not, however, a cutting, but a manuscript copy. "saty. feb. . there was an hearing in the rolls chapel in a cause between sir richard steele, mr. cibber, mr. wilks, and others belonging to drury-lane theatre, which held five hours--one of which was taken up by a speech of mr. wilks, which had so good an effect, that the cause went against sir richard steele."--st. james's evening post, feb. to feb. , . in its next issue, feb. to feb. , it corrects the blunder which it had made in attributing cibber's speech to wilks.] [footnote : this was in the dedication to "ximena." the passage will be found quoted by me in a note on page of this volume.] [footnote : cibber himself, of course.] [footnote : this coronation was tacked to the play of "henry viii.," which was revived at drury lane on th october, . special interest attached to it on account of the recent coronation of george ii.] [footnote : this was in . on th september, , the bills announce "the same entertainments that were performed yesterday before his majesty at hampton court."] [footnote : in whitelocke's "memorials" there is an account of a masque played in , before charles i. and his queen, by the gentlemen of the temple, which cost £ , .] [footnote : the earl of burlington.] [footnote : "calisto" was published in . genest (i. ) says: "cibber, with his usual accuracy as to dates, supposes that crowne was selected to write a mask for the court in preference to dryden, through the influence of the duke of buckingham, who was offended at what dryden had said of him in absalom and achitophel--dryden's poem was not written till --lord rochester was the person who recommended crowne." i may add that dryden furnished an epilogue to "calisto," which was not spoken.] [footnote : boman, or bowman, was born about , and lived till rd march, . he made his first appearance about , and acted to within a few months of his death, having thus been on the stage for the extraordinary period of sixty-five years. he was very sensitive on the subject of his age, and, if asked how old he was, only replied, that he was very well. davies speaks highly of boman's acting in his extreme old age ("dram. misc.," i. and ii. ). mrs. boman was the adopted daughter of betterton.] [footnote : bishop burnet.] [footnote : first edition, vol. i.] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," i. ) says: "wolsey's filching from his royal master the honour of bestowing grace and pardon on the subject, appeared so gross and impudent a prevarication, that, when this play was acted before george i. at hampton-court, about the year , the courtiers laughed so loudly at this ministerial craft, that his majesty, who was unacquainted with the english language, asked the lord-chamberlain the meaning of their mirth; upon being informed of it, the king joined in a laugh of approbation." davies adds that this scene "was not unsuitably represented by colley cibber;" but, in scenes requiring dignity or passion, he expresses an unfavourable opinion of cibber's playing.] [footnote : from the lord chamberlain's records it is clear that £ was the fee for a play at whitehall during the time of charles i. if the performance was at hampton court, or if it took place at such a time of day as to prevent the ordinary playing at the theatre, £ was allowed.] [footnote : the warrant for the payment of these performances is dated th november, . the expenses incurred by the actors amounted to £ _s._ _d._, and the present given by the king, as cibber states, was £ ; the total payment being thus £ _s._ _d._] [footnote : m. perrin, the late manager of the theatre français, was virulently attacked for giving _la jeune troupe_ no opportunities, and so doing nothing to provide successors to the great actors of his time.] [footnote : after the death of wilks and booth, and the retirement of cibber, the stage experienced a period of dulness, which was the natural result of the want of good young talent in the lifetime of the old actors. such periods seem to recur at stated intervals in the history of the stage.] [footnote : "venice preserved" was acted at the haymarket on nd february, , but dr. burney's mss. do not give the cast. on th november, , pierre was played by mills.] [footnote : for an account of this matter, see _ante_, page .] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) has the following interesting statement regarding cibber and wilks, which he gives on victor's authority:-- "however colley may complain, in his apology, of wilks's fire and impetuosity, he in general was cibber's great admirer; he supported him on all occasions, where his own passion or interest did not interpose; nay, he deprived the inoffensive harry carey of the liberty of the scenes, because he had, in common with others, made merry with cibber in a song, on his being appointed poet laureat; saying at the same time, he was surprised at his impertinence, in behaving so improperly _to a man of such great merit_."] [footnote : john dennis, in an advertisement to the "invader of his country," remarks on this foible. he says:-- "i am perfectly satisfied that any author who brings a play to _drury-lane_, must, if 'tis a good one, be sacrificed to the jealousie of this fine writer, unless he has either a powerful cabal, or unless he will flatter mr. _robert wilks_, and make him believe that he is an excellent tragedian." the "fine writer" is, of course, cibber.] [footnote : "in the trajedy of _mackbeth_, where _wilks_ acts the part of a man whose family has been murder'd in his absence, the wildness of his passion, which is run over in a torrent of calamitous circumstances, does but raise my spirits and give me the alarm; but when he skilfully seems to be out of breath, and is brought too low to say more; and upon a second reflection, cry, only wiping his eyes, what, both my children! both, both my children gone--there is no resisting a sorrow which seems to have cast about for all the reasons possible for its consolation, but has no recource. there is not one left, but both, both are murdered! such sudden starts from the thread of the discourse, and a plain sentiment express'd in an artless way, are the irresistible strokes of eloquence and poetry."--"tatler," no. , september th, . the extraordinary language of macduff is quoted from davenant's mutilation of shakespeare's play. obviously it is not shakespeare's language.] [footnote : charles williams was a young actor of great promise, who died in . on the production of thomson's "sophonisba" at drury lane, on february th, , cibber played scipio, but was so hissed by a public that would not suffer him in tragic parts, that he resigned the character to williams. (see footnote , vol. i. anchored on page .) this would seem to indicate that williams was an actor of some position, for scipio is a good part.] [footnote : "in the strong expression of horror on the murder of the king, and the loud exclamations of surprize and terror, booth might have exceeded the utmost efforts of wilks. but, in the touches of domestic woe, which require the feelings of the tender father and the affectionate husband, wilks had no equal. his skill, in exhibiting the emotions of the overflowing heart with corresponding look and action, was universally admired and felt. his rising, after the suppression of his anguish, into ardent and manly resentment, was highly expressive of noble and generous anger."--"dram. misc.," ii. .] [footnote : this revival took place th january, . the play was acted eleven times.] [footnote : jeremy collier specially attacked vanbrugh and his comedies for their immorality and profanity, and for their abuse of the clergy. even less strict critics than collier considered vanbrugh's pieces as more indecent than the average play. thus the author of "faction display'd," , writes:-- "_van_'s baudy, plotless plays were once our boast, but now the poet's in the builder lost."] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) says that he supposes cibber prevailed upon vanbrugh to alter the disguise which sir john brute assumes from a clergyman's habit to that of a woman of fashion.] [footnote : sir john brute.] [footnote : cibber's meaning is not very clear, but if he intends to convey the idea that it was for this revival that vanbrugh made these alterations, he is probably wrong, for when the play was revived at the haymarket, on th january, , it was announced as "with alterations."] [footnote : mrs. oldfield played lady brute, whose lover constant is.] [footnote : wilks played constant; booth, heartfree; and cibber, sir john brute.] [footnote : cibber begins the seventh chapter of this work with an account of betterton's troubles as a manager. see vol. i. p. . see also vol. i. p. .] [footnote : "ye gods, what havock does ambition make among your works!"--"cato," act i. sc. .] [footnote : "and, in despair their empty pit to fill, set up some foreign monster in a bill. thus they jog on, still tricking, never thriving, and murdering plays, which they miscall reviving." "address to granville, on his tragedy, _heroic love_."] [footnote : "during booth's inability to act, ... wilks was called upon to play two of his parts--jaffier, and lord hastings in jane shore. booth was, at times, in all other respects except his power to go on the stage, in good health, and went among the players for his amusement his curiosity drew him to the playhouse on the nights when wilks acted these characters, in which himself had appeared with uncommon lustre. all the world admired wilks, except his brother-manager: amidst the repeated bursts of applause which he extorted, booth alone continued silent."--davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ).] [footnote : aaron hill, quoted by victor in his "life of barton booth," page , says: "the passions which he found in comedy were not strong enough to excite his fire; and what seem'd want of qualification, was only absence of impression."] [footnote : wilks can have seen mountfort only in his early career, for he did not leave ireland till, at least, ; and in that year mountfort was killed.] [footnote : wilks first played othello in this country on june nd, , for cibber's benefit. steele draws attention to the event in "tatler," no. , and in no. states his intention of stealing out to see it, "out of curiosity to observe how _wilks_ and _cibber_ touch those places where _betterton_ and _sandford_ so very highly excelled." cibber was the iago on this occasion. steele probably found little to praise in either.] [footnote : the earl of essex, in banks's "unhappy favourite," was one of wilks's good parts, in which steele ("tatler," no. ) specially praises him. booth acted the part at drury lane on november th, .] [footnote : see cibber on betterton's hamlet and on wilks's mistakes in the part, vol. i. page .] [footnote : in the theatre français a similar arrangement holds to this day, tuesday being now the fashionable night. m. perrin, the late manager, was accused of a too great attention to his _abonnés du mardi_, to the detriment of the theatre and of the general public.] [footnote : see _ante,_ vol. i. page .] [footnote : arcangelo corelli, a famous italian musician, born , died , who has been called the father of modern instrumental music.] [footnote : jeanne catherine gaussin, a very celebrated actress of the comédie française, was the original representative of zaïre, in voltaire's tragedy, to which cibber refers. she made her first parisian appearance in ; she retired in , and died on th june, . voltaire's "zaïre" owed much of its success to her extraordinary ability.] [footnote : cibber has been strongly censured for his treatment of authors. "the laureat" gives the following account of an author's experiences: "_the court sitting, chancellor cibber_ (for the other two, like m----rs in _chancery_, sat only for form sake, and did not presume to judge) nodded to the author to open his manuscript. the author begins to read, in which if he failed to please the _corrector_, he wou'd condescend sometimes to read it for him: when, if the play strook him very warmly, as it wou'd if he found any thing new in it, in which he conceived he cou'd particularly shine as an actor, he would lay down his pipe, (for the _chancellor_ always smoaked when he made a decree) and cry, _by g--d there is something in this: i do not know but it may do; but i will play such a part_. well, when the reading was finished, he made his proper corrections and sometimes without any propriety; nay, frequently he very much and very hastily maimed what he pretended to mend" (p. ). the author also accuses cibber of delighting in repulsing dramatic writers, which he called "choaking of singing birds." however, in cibber's defence, genest's opinion may be quoted (iii. ): "after all that has been said against chancellor cibber, it does not appear that he often made a wrong decree: most of the good plays came out at drury lane--nor am i aware that cibber is much to be blamed for rejecting any play, except the siege of damascus in the first instance."] [footnote : in the preface to "the lunatick" ( ) the actors are roundly abused; but the most amusing attack on actors is in the following title-page: "the sham lawyer: or the lucky extravagant. as it was _damnably_ acted at the theatre-royal in drury lane." this play, by drake, was played in , and among the cast were cibber, bullock, johnson, haines, and pinkethman. bellchambers notes: "such was the case in dennis's 'comic gallant,' where one of the actors, whom i believe to be bullock, is most severely handled." i think he is wrong in imagining bullock to be the actor criticised. dennis says that falstaffe was the character that was badly sustained, and i cannot believe bullock's position would entitle him to play that part in . genest (ii. ) suggests powell as the delinquent.] [footnote : cibber's account of booth is so complete that there is little to be added to it. booth was born in , and was of a good english family. he first appeared in dublin in , under ashbury, but returned to england in , and joined the lincoln's inn fields company. he followed the fortunes of betterton until, as related by cibber in chapter xii., the secession of occurred. from that point to his retirement the only event demanding special notice is his marriage with hester santlow (see p. of this volume). this took place in , and was the cause of much criticism and slander, some of which bellchambers reproduces with evident gusto. i do not repeat his statements, because i consider them wildly extravagant. they are fully refuted by booth's will, from the terms of which it is clear that his marriage was a happy one, and that he esteemed his wife as well as loved her. booth's illness, to which cibber refers above, seized him early in the season of - , and though after it he was able to play occasionally, he was never restored to health. his last appearance was on th january, , but he lived till th may, .] [footnote : see memoir of mrs. oldfield at end of volume.] [footnote : mrs. porter met with the accident referred to in the summer of . see davies, "dram. misc.," iii. . she returned to the stage in january, .] [footnote : wilks died th september, . he was of english parentage, and was born near dublin, whither his father had removed, about . he was in a government office, but about he gave this up, and went on the stage. after a short probation in dublin he came over to london, and was engaged by rich, with whom he remained till about . he returned to dublin, and became so great a favourite there, that it is said that the lord lieutenant issued a warrant to prevent his leaving again for london. however, he came to drury lane about , and from that time his fortunes are closely interwoven with cibber's, and are fully related by him.] [footnote : "the laureat," p. : "as to the occasion of your parting with your share of the patent, i cannot think you give us the true reason; for i have been very well inform'd, it was the intention, not only of you, but of your brother menagers, as soon as you could get the great seal to your patent, (which stuck for some time, the then lord _chancellor_ not being satisfied in the legality of the grant) to dispose it to the best bidder. this was at first kept as a secret among you; but as soon as the grant was compleated, you sold to the first who wou'd come up to your price."] [footnote : among the lord chamberlain's papers is a copy of a warrant to prepare this patent. it is dated th may, , and the patent itself is dated rd july, , though it did not take effect till st september, . the reason for this is noted on page .] [footnote : "the grub-street journal," th june, , says: "one little creature, only the deputy and representative of his father, was turbulent enough to balk their measures, and counterbalance all the civility and decency in the other scale.... to remedy this, the gentleman who bought into the patent first, purchased his father's share, and set him down in the same obscure place from whence he rose."] [footnote : in "the case of john mills, james quin," &c., given in theo. cibber's "dissertations" (appendix, p. ), it is stated that "such has been the inveteracy of some of the late patentees to the actors, that when mrs. _booth_, executrix of her late husband, _barton booth_, esq; sold her sixth part of the patent to mr. _giffard_, she made him covenant, not to sell or assign it to actors."] [footnote : "i must own, i was heartily disgusted with the conduct of the family of the _cibbers_ on this occasion, and had frequent and violent disputes with father and son, whenever we met! it appeared to me something shocking that the son should immediately render void, and worthless, what the father had just received thirty-one hundred and fifty pounds for, as a valuable consideration."--victor's "history," i. .] [footnote : cibber, in chapter viii. (vol. i. p. ), alludes to this trial, and gives the first of these two suppositions as the reason of harper's acquittal, but victor ("history," i. ) says that he has been informed that this is an error.] [footnote : "he was a man of humanity and strict honour; many instances fatally proved, that his word, when solemnly given, (which was his custom) was sufficient for the performance, though ever so injurious to himself."--victor's "history," i. .] [footnote : see _ante_, chapter ix. (vol. i. footnote anchored on page )] [footnote : "the clamour against the author, whose presumption was highly censured for daring to alter shakspeare, increased to such a height, that colley, who had smarted more than once for dabbling in tragedy, went to the playhouse, and, without saying a word to any body, took the play from the prompter's desk, and marched off with it in his pocket."--"dram. misc.," i. .] [footnote : produced at the haymarket, .] [footnote : "enter ground-ivy. _ground._ what are you doing here? _apollo._ i am casting the parts in the tragedy of king _john_. _ground._ then you are casting the parts in a tragedy that won't do. _apollo._ how, sir! was it not written by _shakespear_, and was not _shakespear_ one of the greatest genius's that ever lived? _ground._ no, sir, _shakespear_ was a pretty fellow, and said some things that only want a little of my licking to do well enough; king _john_, as now writ, will not do----but a word in your ear, i will make him do. _apollo._ how? _ground._ by alteration, sir; it was a maxim of mine when i was at the head of theatrical affairs, that no play, tho' ever so good, would do without alteration."--"historical register," act iii. sc. .] [footnote : these appearances took place on january th, th, and th, .] [footnote : fondlewife's pet name for his wife lætitia.] [footnote : lætitia's pet name for fondlewife. see vol. i. page .] [footnote : an allusion to his own phrase in the preface to "the provoked husband." see vol. i. page .] [footnote : the name "susannah maria" naturally suggests susanna maria arne, the wife of theo. cibber; but the anecdote cannot refer to her, because she was married in , some years before cibber began his "apology."] [footnote : davies ("dram. misc.," iii. ) says: "mr. garrick asked him [cibber] if he had not in his possession, a comedy or two of his own writing.--'what then?' said cibber.--'i should be glad to have the honour of bringing it into the world.'--'who have you to act it?'--'why, there are (said garrick) clive and pritchard, myself, and some others,' whom he named.--'no! (said the old man, taking a pinch of snuff, with great nonchalance) it won't do.'" davies (iii. ) relates how garrick drew on himself a rebuke from cibber. discussing in company the old school, "garrick observed that the old style of acting was banishing the stage, and would not go down. 'how do you know? (said cibber); you never tried it.'"] [footnote : "papal tyranny in the reign of king john." king john mr. quin. arthur, his nephew miss j. cibber. salisbury mr. ridout. pembroke mr. rosco. arundel mr. anderson. falconbridge mr. ryan. hubert mr. bridgewater. king philip } { mr. hale. lewis the dauphin } of france { mr. cibber, jun. melun, a nobleman } { mr. cashell. pandulph, legate from pope innocent mr. cibber, sen. abbot } of angiers { mr. gibson. governor } { mr. carr. lady constance mrs. pritchard. blanch, niece to king john mrs. bellamy.] [footnote : "_on_ cibber's _declaration that he will have the last word with mr. pope._ quoth _cibber_ to _pope_, tho' in verse you foreclose, i'll have the last word, for by g--d i'll write prose. poor _colley_, thy reas'ning is none of the strongest, for know, the last word is the word that lasts longest." "the summer miscellany," .] [footnote : this play was produced at drury lane, th january, ; and the performance of "the rehearsal" referred to took place on the th february.] [footnote : the earl of warwick was the young nobleman, and it is said in dillworth's "life of pope" that "the late commissioner vaughan" was the other gentleman.] [footnote : "but pope's irascibility prevailed, and he resolved to tell the whole english world that he was at war with cibber; and, to show that he thought him no common adversary, he prepared no common vengeance; he published a new edition of the 'dunciad,' in which he degraded theobald from his painful pre-eminence, and enthroned cibber in his stead."--johnson's "life of pope."] [footnote : "unhappily the two heroes were of opposite characters, and pope was unwilling to lose what he had already written; he has therefore depraved his poem by giving to cibber the old books, the old pedantry, and the sluggish pertinacity of theobald."--johnson's "life of pope."] [footnote : see _ante_, p. .] [footnote : it has been generally stated that cibber died on th december, , but "the public advertiser" of monday, th december, announces his death as having occurred "yesterday morning." the "gentleman's magazine" and the "london magazine," in their issues for december, , give the th as the date.] [footnote : mr. laurence hutton, in his "literary landmarks of london" (p. ), gives the following interesting particulars regarding cibber's last resting-place: "cibber was buried by the side of his father and mother, in a vault under the danish church, situated in wellclose square, ratcliff highway (since named st. george street). this church, according to an inscription placed over the doorway, was built in by caius gabriel cibber himself, by order of the king of denmark, for the use of such of his majesty's subjects as might visit the port of london. the church was taken down some years ago ( - ), and st. paul's schools were erected on its foundation, which was left intact. rev. dan. greatorex, vicar of the parish of st. paul, dock street, in a private note written in the summer of , says:-- "'colley cibber and his father and mother were buried in the vault of the old danish church. when the church was removed, the coffins were all removed carefully into the crypt under the apse, and then bricked up. so the bodies are still there. the danish consul was with me when i moved the bodies. the coffins had perished except the bottoms. i carefully removed them myself personally, and laid them side by side at the back of the crypt, and covered them with earth.'"] [footnote : shakespeare's "richard iii." was produced at the lyceum theatre on th january, . it was announced as "strictly the original text, without interpolations, but simply with such omissions and transpositions as have been found essential for dramatic representation." in richard mr. irving's great powers are seen to special advantage. the cast of cibber's play in was-- king henry vi., _designed for_ mr. wilks. edward, prince of wales mrs. allison. richard, duke of york miss chock. richard, duke of gloucester mr. cibber. duke of buckingham mr. powel. lord stanley mr. mills. duke of norfolk mr. simpson. ratcliff mr. kent. catesby mr. thomas. henry, earl of richmond mr. evans. oxford mr. fairbank. queen elizabeth mrs. knight. lady ann mrs. rogers. cicely mrs. powel.] [footnote : a beautiful portfolio of sketches of mr. daly's company has been published, in which is a portrait of miss rehan as hypolita, with a critical note by mr. brander matthews.] [footnote : this is a specimen of that commonest of blunders, the confusing of the dates of the first month or two of the year. the edict was issued february, - , that is, . what bellchambers calls the "subsequent" october was therefore the preceding october. (l.)] [footnote : see "historia histrionica."] [footnote : nell gwyn made her first appearance not later than . pepys, on the rd of april, , mentions "pretty, witty nell, at the king's house." (l.)] [footnote : should be for the remainder of his life. (l.)] [footnote : vide davies's "dramatic miscellanies," vol. iii. p. . another anecdote of the same kind is found in a "life of the late famous comedian, j. haynes," vo. , which, as it preserves a characteristic trait of this valuable actor, is worth repeating. "about this time [ ] there happened a small pick between mr. hart and jo, upon the account of his late negotiation in france,{a} and there spending so much money to so little purpose, or, as i may more properly say, to no purpose at all. {a} soon after the theatre in drury-lane was burnt down, jan. - , haynes had been sent to paris by mr. hart and mr. killegrew, to examine the machinery employed in the french operas.--_malone._ "there happened to be one night a play acted, called 'cataline's conspiracy,' wherein there was wanting a great number of senators. now mr. hart being chief of the house, would oblige jo to dress for one of these senators, although his salary, being _s._ per week, freed him from any such obligation. but mr. hart, as i said before, being sole governor of the playhouse, and at a small variance with jo, commands it, and the other must obey. "jo being vexed at the slight mr. hart had put upon him, found out this method of being revenged on him. he gets a scaramouch dress, a large full ruff, makes himself whiskers from ear to ear, puts on his head a long merry-andrew's cap, a short pipe in his mouth, a little three-legged stool in his hand; and in this manner follows mr. hart on the stage, sets himself down behind him, and begins to smoke his pipe, laugh, and point at him, which comical figure put all the house in an uproar, some laughing, some clapping, and some hollaing. now mr. hart, as those who knew him can aver, was a man of that exactness and grandeur on the stage, that let what would happen, he'd never discompose himself, or mind any thing but what he then represented; and had a scene fallen behind him, he would not at that time look back, to have seen what was the matter; which jo knowing, remained still smoking. the audience continued laughing, mr. hart acting, and wondering at this unusual occasion of their mirth; sometimes thinking it some disturbance in the house, again that it might be something amiss in his dress: at last turning himself toward the scenes, he discovered jo in the aforesaid posture; whereupon he immediately goes off the stage, swearing he would never set foot on it again, unless jo was immediately turned out of doors, which was no sooner spoke, but put in practice."] [footnote : bellamente is not a female, but a male character. by referring to the mention of this matter in the "historia histrionica," it will at once be seen how bellchambers's blunder was caused. (l.)] [footnote : "my old friends hart and mohun, the one by his natural and proper force, the other _by his great skill and art_, never failed to send me home full of such ideas as affected my behaviour, and made me insensibly more courteous and human to my friends and acquaintance."--"tatler," no. .] [footnote : the following extract from a pamphlet, called "a comparison between the two stages," will amply evince the popular estimation in which hart and mohun were held:-- "the late duke of monmouth was a good judge of dancing, and a good dancer himself; when he returned from france, he brought with him st andré, then the best master in france. the duke presented him to the stage, the stage to gratify the duke admitted him, and the duke himself thought he would prove a mighty advantage to them, though he had nobody else of his opinion. a day was published in the bills for him to dance, but not one more, besides the duke and his friends came to see him; the reason was, the plays were then so good, and hart and mohun acted them so well, that the audience would not be interrupted, for so short a time, though 'twas to see the best master in europe." i suspect that mohun was born about the year , from the circumstance of his acting _bellamente_, the heroine of shirley's "love's cruelty," in , when he had probably reached, and could hardly have exceeded, the age of fifteen years. (b.) as has been before pointed out, bellamente is not a female character. he is the husband of clariana, and could scarcely be played by a boy. if mohun represented the character in , he must have been considerably older than bellchambers imagines. (l.)] [footnote : this account, though generally rejected, appears to me more deserving of credit than chetwood's notoriously neglectful habits, in gleaning intelligence, or making assertion.] [footnote : "i have lately been told by a gentleman who has frequently seen mr. _betterton_ perform this part of _hamlet_, that he has observ'd his countenance (which was naturally ruddy and sanguin) in this scene of the fourth act where his father's ghost appears, thro' the violent and sudden emotions of amazement and horror, turn instantly on the sight of his father's spirit, as pale as his neckcloath, when every article of his body seem'd to be affected with a tremor inexpressible; so that, had his father's ghost actually risen before him; he could not have been seized with more real agonies; and this was felt so strongly by the audience, that the blood seemed to shudder in their veins likewise, and they in some measure partook of the astonishment and horror, with which they saw this excellent actor affected."--"laureat," , p. . ----"i have seen a pamphlet, written above forty years ago, by an intelligent man, who greatly extols the performance of betterton in this last scene, commonly called the closet scene."--davies's "dramatic miscellanies," vol. iii. p. , ed. .] [footnote : in gildon's "life," &c., , there is a copy of rowe's "epilogue," stated to have been spoken by mrs. barry "at the theatre royal, in drury-lane, april the th," and this mistaken date has been perpetuated by the "biographia dramatica." [in spite of this contradiction of gildon and the "biographia dramatica," they are right, and bellchambers is wrong. the date was th april, .]] [footnote : this lady, who was remarkably handsome, married boman, the actor.] [footnote : this curiosity, i believe, is still preserved in the earl of mansfield's mansion, at caen-wood.] [footnote : pope, in the postscript of a letter to cromwell, writes thus:-- "----this letter of death puts me in mind of poor betterton's, over whom i would have this sentence of tully for an epitaph, which will serve for his moral as well as his theatrical capacity: '_vitæ bene actæ jucundissima est recordatio._'" in another part of his correspondence, he intimates that betterton's "remains" had been taken care of, alluding, i suppose, to this post-humous forgery.] [footnote : mrs. brown swore she went herself, but appears to have been mistaken.] [footnote : bellchambers seems to have had a craze on the subject of mrs. bracegirdle's character, which he vilifies on every possible opportunity. his opinion here appears to me very questionable.] [footnote : sandford played worm in "the cutter of coleman street" as early as . (l.)] [footnote : cibber says that nokes, mountfort, and leigh, "died about the same year," _viz._ .] [footnote : "roscius anglicanus."] [footnote : i find, on looking over the "roscius anglicanus," that _trinculo_ is termed _duke trinculo_, in a short reference to the "tempest."] [footnote : "dramatic miscellanies," vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : "that verbruggen and cibber did not accord, is plainly insinuated by the author of the laureat. it was known that the former would resent an injury, and that the latter's valour was entirely passive. the temper of verbruggen may be known, from a story which i have often been told by the old comedians as a certain fact, and which found its way into some temporary publication. "verbruggen, in a dispute with one of king charles's illegitimate sons, was so far transported by sudden anger, as to strike him, and call him a son of a whore. the affront was given, it seems, behind the scenes of drury-lane. complaint was made of this daring insult on a nobleman, and verbruggen was told, he must either not act in london, or submit publicly to ask the nobleman's pardon. during the time of his being interdicted acting, he had engaged himself to betterton's theatre. he consented to ask pardon, on liberty granted to express his submission in his own terms. he came on the stage dressed for the part of _oroonoko_, and, after the usual preface, owned that he had called the duke of st. a. a son of a whore. 'it is true,' said verbruggen, 'and i am sorry for it.' on saying this, he invited the company present to see him act the part of _oroonoko_, at the theatre in lincoln's-inn-fields."--"dramatic miscellanies," vol. iii. p. .] [footnote : "a fellow with a crackt voice: he clangs his words as if he spoke out of a broken drum."--"comparison, &c.," .] [footnote : "history of the stage," p. .] [footnote : there was also a david williams; perhaps the person who played the _ d grave-digger_, in "hamlet." (b.) [genest gives this part to joseph williams.]] [footnote : "dramatic miscellanies," vol. iii. p. .] [footnote : "life of betterton," p. .] [footnote : downes expressly mentions her as mrs. betterton for _camilla_ [should be _portia_], in the "adventures of five hours," ; and she also acted by that name, a few months after, in the "slighted maid." this error originated with the "biographia britannica," but mr. jones, the late slovenly editor of the book alluded to, had ample means to correct it. (b.)] [footnote : "you'll have pinkethman and bullock helping out beaumont and fletcher."--tatler, no. .] [footnote : "tatler," no. .] [footnote : "dramatic miscellanies," vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : "dramatic miscellanies," vol. iii. p. .] [footnote : it is supposed that she was engaged in a tender intercourse with farquhar, and was the "penelope" of his amatory correspondence. she lived successively with arthur mainwaring, one of the most accomplished characters of his age, and general churchill; by each of whom she had a son.] [footnote : this fact is firmly denied in cibber's "lives of the poets," and with a pointed reference to johnson's admission of it.--vol. v. p. .] [footnote : savage, however, was _not_ silent; though he abstained from putting his name to the poem, he indisputably wrote upon mrs. oldfield's death. it is preserved in chetwood's "history."] [footnote : what can be more ridiculous than the following anecdote? mrs. oldfield happened to be in some danger in a gravesend boat, and when the rest of the passengers lamented their imagined approaching fate, she, with a conscious dignity, told them their deaths would be only a private loss;--"but i am a public concern."--"dramatic miscellanies," vol. i. p. .] [footnote : the bitterness of pope's muse subsided upon no occasion, where the name of mrs. oldfield might be aptly introduced. thus in the "sober advice from horace," one of his inedited poems: engaging oldfield! who, with grace and ease, could join the arts to ruin and to please.] * * * * * * transcription note: the original spelling and grammar have been retained. footnotes have been moved to the end of this work. minor adjustments to hyphenation and other punctuation have been made without annotation. typographical changes to this volume: pg sir thomas shipwith[skipwith], had trusted pg of so grave and stanch[staunch] a senator pg have been in our power so throughly[thoroughly] to pg he expresly[expressly] wrote for him pg upon the model of monfort[mountfort not corrected] pg the "famous mr. antony[anthony] leigh," pg nor can their[there] be a doubt pg added heading [bibliography of colley cibber] fn two of these parts belonged to skipwith[shipwith] transcriber's note. a list of the changes made can be found at the end of the book. formatting and special characters are indicated as follows: _italic_ _{subscript} ^{superscript} [=i] i with macron [)i] i with inverted breve william shakespeare _player, poet, and playmaker_ [illustration] [illustration: w. heydemann, sc. edward alleyn.] a chronicle history of the life and work of william shakespeare _player, poet, and playmaker_ by frederick gard fleay with two etched illustrations. london john c. nimmo , king william street, strand, w.c. [_all rights reserved_] dedication. to the shakespeare of our days, _robert browning_, a permitted tribute from his ever-devoted liegeman, frederick gard fleay. to him, whose craft, so subtly terse, (while lesser minds, for music's sake, from single thoughts whole cantos make), includes a poem in a verse;-- to him, whose penetrative art, with spheric knowledge only his, dissects by keen analysis the wiliest secrets of the heart;-- to him, who rounds us perfect wholes, where wisdom, wit, and love combine; chief praise be this:--he wrote no line that could cause pain in childlike souls. contents. page introduction section i. the public career of shakespeare section ii. the personal connections of shakespeare with other poets section iii. annals on which the preceding sections are founded section iv. the chronological succession of shakespeare's plays section v. on the marlowe group of plays section vi. on the plays by other authors acted by shakespeare's company section vii. early english plays in germany appendix tables i. quarto editions of shakespeare's plays ii. quarto editions of other plays performed by shakespeare's company iii. number of performances at court, - iv. entries of plays in the stationers' registers, - v. transfers of copyright in plays, - supplementary table of moseley's entries in and , and warburton's list index note on etchings [illustration: w. heydemann, sc. shakespeare's font.] introduction. it is due to the reader of a new work on a subject already so often handled as the life of shakespeare to tell him at the outset what he may expect to find therein, and to state the reasons for which i have thought it worth while to devote nearly ten years to its production. previous investigators have with industrious minuteness already ascertained for us every detail that can reasonably be expected of shakespeare's private life. with laborious research they have raked together the records of petty debts, of parish assessments, of scandalous traditions, of idle gossip; and they have shown beyond doubt that shakespeare was born at stratford-on-avon, was married, had three children, left his home, made money as an actor and play-maker in london, returned to his native town, invested his savings there, and died. i do not think that when stript of verbiage, and what the slang of the day calls padding, much more than this can be claimed as the result of the voluminous writings on this side of his career. for one i am thankful that things are so; i have little sympathy with the modern inquisitiveness that peeps over the garden wall to see in what array the great man smokes his pipe, and chronicles the shape and colour of his head-covering. but on the public side of shakespeare's career little has been adequately ascertained; and with this we are deeply concerned. not for a mere personal interest, but in its bearings on the history of english literature, we ought to ascertain so far as is possible what companies of actors shakespeare belonged to, at what theatres they acted, in what plays besides his own he was a performer, what authors this brought him into personal contact with, what influence he exerted on or received from them, what relations, friendly or unfriendly, they had with rival companies, and finally, in what order his own works were produced, and what if any share other hands had in their production. all these matters have been treated carelessly and inaccurately by biographers of the peeping school; and in the last of these we are gravely referred for the chronology of shakespeare's plays to a schoolboy compilation the author of which is so ignorant as to speak of _lust's dominion_ as a play of _jonson's_, the _news from hell_ as a _play_ of dekker's, and achilles as laertes' son. this marvel of inefficiency we are told is the best work on the subject; and this while malone and drake are accessible to any student. in the present treatise this hitherto neglected side of shakespeare's career has been chiefly dwelt on. the facts of his private life are also given; but not the documents on which they are founded, these having been excellently well collected and arranged in the recent _outlines of the life of shakespeare_, by j. o. halliwell-phillipps, f.r.s., f.s.a., hon. m.r.s.l., hon. m.r.i.a. this book is a treasure-house of documents, and it is greatly to be regretted that they are not published by themselves, apart from hypotheses founded on idle rumour or fallacious mis-reasoning. i do not know any work so full of fanciful theories and "_ignes fatui_" likely to entice "a deluded traveller out of the beaten path into strange quagmires."[ ] there is much else besides documents not given in the present treatise; discussions as to who might have been shakespeare's schoolmaster, whether he was apprenticed to a butcher, whether he stole a deer out of a non-existent park, whether he held horses at the theatre door or "was employed in any other equine capacity," whether he went to denmark or to venice, and whether lord bacon wrote his plays for him. on all these points i must refer to earlier and less sceptical treatises. what the reader will find here is--( .) a continuous narrative in which the statements are mostly taken for granted in accordance with my own view of the evidence accessible to us; ( .) annals or chronological arrangement of the same facts, with discussion of their mutual interrelations; ( .) discussion of the evidence on which the chronological succession of shakespeare's plays is based; ( .) similar discussions for plays in which he was not main author but only "coadjutor, novice, journeyman, tutor," or even merely one of the possible actors; ( .) a few remarks on the german versions of his plays acted on the continent; and ( .) tables of quarto editions of his plays, &c., with a list of all plays entered on the stationers' registers from the first opening of theatres to their closing in - . this last item may seem to be somewhat beyond the scope of this book, but it is greatly needed, and it is better that so difficult a task should be performed by one acquainted with dramatic literature than by some scissors-and-paste compiler who cannot distinguish a play from a prose tract. as to the preparation for the whole work it has been to me a labour of love, not, i trust, altogether lost. i have read and re-read for it every play accessible to me that dates earlier than , have compiled annals for every known writer of that period and discussions of the dates of his plays, and have compared the results and corrected and re-corrected until a consistent whole has been obtained. of this whole only the part relating to shakespeare is here issued. i have to thank the editors of _anglia englische studien_ and _shakespeariana_ for enabling me to print some portions relating to other authors, which will, however, require some minor corrections. i have also to thank dr. furnivall and mr. swinburne for some wholesome criticism upon my earlier work; dr. ingleby, miss lee, mr. boyle, mr. a. h. bullen, and especially dr. h. h. furness, for kindly sympathy and copies of their own writings, some of which might otherwise have escaped my notice; and above all mr. p. a. daniel, for ever-ready help when asked for, and for judicious strictures on received hypotheses or points debatable. the main regret for the earnest student is that so many of these still exist; as any attempt to give a biography of shakespeare the form which is æsthetically its due must fail so long as the true order of the facts on which it rests is still esteemed matter of argument. if the reader would wish to judge before proceeding further of the quality of such argument in the present work i would refer him to the discussion on _mucedorus_ or that on _henry vi._ in subsequent sections. one other point requires notice, if not apology. the plan followed in this volume requires much repetition in order that the separate arguments as to the chronological succession of the plays, and as to the order of events in shakespeare's life, should be presented in intelligible sequence. this is an evil only to be avoided either by mixing up the two, as is usually done, or by numerous cross-references. either of these methods leads to greater evils, both by interrupting the logical connection of each series (for unfortunately the evidences are mostly independent of each other), and, which is still more important, by obliterating the mutual support given to the arguments in the twofold lines of evidence by their leading in each division to compatible results. the inconvenience of these repetitions has therefore been submitted to. footnotes: [ ] "these phrases to their owner i resign, for god's sake, reader, take them not for mine." life of shakespeare. section i. the public career of shakespeare. on or about saturday d april , william shakespeare, son of john shakespeare, glover and dealer in wool, and his wife mary, _née_ arden, was born in henley street, stratford-on-avon, and was baptized on the th. nothing whatever is known of his early life, and the few meagre details ascertained as to the condition of his family will be found in a subsequent division of this work. tradition and imagination have supplied untrustworthy materials, with which his biographers have endeavoured to fill up the gap in our information; but it is not until th november that we find any further reliable fact established concerning him. on that day his marriage bond is dated, he being in his nineteenth year, and his bride, anne hathaway, in her twenty-sixth. their first child, susanna, was baptized th may . to account for this young lady's premature arrival a pre-contract is assumed, but not proved, by recent writers. on d february their twin children, hamnet and judith, were baptized; and in , in the spring, shakespeare gave his assent to a proposed settlement of a mortgage on his mother's asbies estate. for ten years after there is no vestige of any communication with his family. it is at this point that his public life begins. in leicester's players visited stratford for the first time. the company, under the same name, that had performed there in had as well as warwick's been dissolved in , in order that the queen's men might be selected from them. in , during the prevalence of the plague in london, this more recent company had been travelling on the continent, and on their return to england made a provincial tour. shakespeare probably joined them during or immediately after their visit to stratford, and during their travels received his earliest instruction in comic acting from kempe and pope, who soon after became noted performers; bryan also belonged to the company at this date. they probably acted mere interludes, not regular five-act plays. on th september the earl of leicester died; and his players soon after found a new patron in lord strange. they then settled in london, and acted at the cross keys in bishopsgate street. the head of the company, in its altered constitution, was "famous ned allen," who on d january - bought up for £ , s. richard jones' share of "playing apparels, play-books, instruments, &c.," in order to set up his new company. these properties had belonged to worcester's men under robert brown, and were no longer needed by him, as he and his players were about to visit the continent. it was in this way that shakespeare came to london as a poor strolling player, but nevertheless his position was not without its advantages; he was associated already with the most noted comedians of the time, kempe and pope; and in alleyn he had the advantage of studying the method of the greatest tragic actor that had yet trod the english stage. but he did not remain content with merely acting; he now commenced as author. in order to ascertain under what conditions, it will be necessary to briefly state what was the position of the companies and authors in london in . at that date there were two theatres in london: the better of the two, the theater, was occupied by the queen's men, for whom greene was the principal play-writer. marlowe, kyd, and r. wilson had also contributed plays to their _repertoire_, but just at this time left them and joined pembroke's, which, like leicester's, had been a strolling company, but were now settling in london. on the other hand, peele and lodge, who had previously written for the admiral's company, acting at the other theatre, the curtain, had also joined, and still remained with, the queen's. nearly all these writers, if not quite all, were actors as well as authors. greene, the johannes factotum of the queen's men, had evidently expected to establish a monopoly of play-acting in their favour, and was indignant at the arrival of vagrant troops of thespians from the country, just when he had practically succeeded in crippling the rival company in london, by enlisting some of their best authors in the service of his own. hence on d august his publication of _menaphon_, with nash's address, containing a virulent attack on kyd and marlowe, then writing for pembroke's men, together with a glorification of peele, then writing in conjunction with greene. the absence of any allusion in this tract to shakespeare or lord strange's company conclusively proves that they were not as yet dangerous rivals to the queen's. pembroke's men were, and there is indirect evidence that they had from their first settlement in london obtained possession of the second theatre, the curtain. this evidence is connected with the first direct mention which is extant of shakespeare's company. for in this same year, , the martinist controversy had been raging in london; lyly, nash, greene, monday, and cooper were the anti-martinist champions; the martinists had been ridiculed on the stage in april, probably by greene at the theater, possibly by the paul's children in some play of lyly's, or by the earl of oxford's boys in one of monday's. the authorities did not interfere. but in november certain players "within the city," to wit, lord strange's and the admiral's, were silenced for "abuses or indecent reflexions" (strype). a comparison of the _worthies_ in _love's labour's lost_ with the anti-martinist writers, of the euphuist armado with lyly, the boy-satirist mote with nash, the curate with the reverend robert greene, the schoolmaster-pedant with the pedagogue cooper, and antony dull with antony monday, will i think confirm the theory developed by me in a separate essay, that this was the play suppressed on this occasion. it is characteristic of the independence of action shown by shakespeare's company throughout the reign of elizabeth that they refused to obey the injunction, and went and played at the cross-keys that same afternoon, while the subservient admiral's company dutifully submitted. i do not suppose, however, that the play as then performed was in all parts from the hand of shakespeare. it is extremely unlikely that he should have commenced his career by independent writing, and there is not a play of his that can be referred even on the rashest conjecture to a date anterior to , which does not bear the plainest internal evidence to its having been refashioned at a later time. in all probability he began to compose plays, as we know so many of his contemporaries did, as an assistant to some experienced dramatist. it may seem idle, in the absence of any positive evidence, to guess who was his original tutor in composition, and yet, as the careers of peele, greene, and marlowe conclusively show that none of them were in connected with lord strange's company, i venture to suggest that it was robert wilson. that dramatist is not heard of in connection with pembroke's or any other company after august , and he certainly continued to write for the stage. that shakespeare was greatly influenced by him and peele is evident from the metrical character of shakespeare's earliest work, which abounds in heroic rhyme like peele's in tragedy, and in doggerel and stanza like wilson's in comedy. it is not till the historic plays that the influence of marlowe's blank verse is fully perceptible, and in the earliest of these, _richard ii._, rhyme is still dominant. wilson was in this view a better teacher for the inexperienced shakespeare than a greater man. marlowe, for instance, might have biassed him on the tragic side, and deferred or prevented his comedy from its earlier pastoral development. _love's labour's won_ must have been written at about the same time as _love's labour's lost_, and before the end of _the comedy of errors_ probably appeared in its original form. in this same year was produced a play in which, although i cannot detect shakespeare's hand as coadjutor with its probable author, r. wilson, he most likely appeared as an actor--_fair em_; and that this comedy contained a satirical attack on greene is evident from the offence he took at it, as shown in his virulent address prefixed to his _farewell to folly_. up to this date greene's chief attacks had been directed against kyd in _menaphon_ and in _never too late_, but as yet there has been found no allusion to shakespeare in his writings anterior to . yet shakespeare must have been known to him as at least part author of the plays acted by lord strange's men in and . of _romeo and juliet_, originally acted in , we also possess a version anterior to shakespeare's final remodelling, which palpably contains scenes not written by him. these scenes, however, seem due to a finer artist than kyd, and there is independent evidence that george peele had by also become a playwright for lord strange's men. one of the plays acted by them in this year was probably peele's _edward i._, here mentioned on account of a curious allusion which would seem to fix the character performed by shakespeare. in scene elinor says to baliol-- "_shake_ [thou] thy _spear_ in honour of _his name_ under whose royalty thou wear'st the same." shakespeare is known to have acted "kingly parts," and this of edward i. was probably one of them. to this same year may probably be assigned the original production of _the two gentlemen of verona_. the court festivities of christmas - mark an important epoch in the fortunes of lord strange's company, and consequently of shakespeare, now rapidly coming to the front as their chief writer. during the period we have been considering, - , the queen's and the admiral's were the only men's companies who performed at court, but at christmas - the admiral's did not act at all, and the queen's, after one performance, gave place to lord strange's, and until the death of that nobleman in , his players enjoyed almost a monopoly of court performances. one presentation by the earl of hertford's men, of whom nothing else is recorded, one by the earl of sussex', and two by the earl of pembroke's, are all that can be balanced with six by lord strange's in - , and three in - . this pre-eminence at court was retained by the company under all its changes of constitution far beyond shakespeare's time, until the closing of the theatres in . possibly the influence of lord southampton, who had come to town and entered at gray's inn in , and was stepson to sir thomas heneage, the treasurer, may have had something to do with this. he does not yet, however, appear to have come into direct communication with shakespeare. immediately after this first appearance at court, alleyn arranged with henslow, his father-in-law, to give his company a local habitation in a permanent theatre. this was of no small importance to them; they had hitherto had to play in the inn-yard at the cross-keys. henslow's new theatre was the rose on the bankside, which opened in february - . the singular fact that every old play (_i.e._, every play that had been previously performed) there acted in this season had been with one possible exception derived from the queen's players, shows that the hitherto most successful company were reduced to sell their copies, and were probably on the verge of bankruptcy. among these we find greene's _orlando_ and _friar bacon_, greene and lodge's _looking-glass for london_, marlowe's _jew of malta_, and kyd's two plays of _jeronymo_. the only play traceable to another company is peele's _battle of alcazar_, called by henslow _mulomorco_. in fact, the queen's company were now practically without a play-writer. of their formerly numerous staff marlowe was writing for pembroke's men, kyd and peele for lord strange's, lodge was abroad, wilson had left them, and greene had also quitted them for the earl of sussex'. besides the plays above enumerated, lord strange's players acted a dozen others of which only the titles are known, and produced as new plays the following:--on march , _henry vi._ (a re-fashioning by shakespeare of an old queen's play, into which he introduced the talbot scenes, celebrated by nash, which drew such crowded audiences); on april , _titus and vespasian_ (a version of the andronicus story extant in a german translation, and probably written by kyd); on april , the second part of _tamburlane_ (not extant); on june , _a merry knack to know a knave_ (probably by peele and wilson); and after an interval, during which the theatres were closed on account of the plague, on th january - , _the jealous comedy_ (probably _the merry wives of windsor_); and finally, january , _the guise_ (marlowe's _massacre of paris_). i have brought together this enumeration of the new plays of strange's men that the reader may better appreciate the often quoted but sadly misunderstood address by greene to his fellow-dramatists in his _groatsworth of wit_, not published till september after its author's death, but manifestly written and probably circulated in manuscript in the early months of . its aim is directed against a company of players, "burs, puppets, antics, apes, grooms, painted monsters, peasants," among whom is "an upstart crow, a johannes factotum, a shakescene," who supposes he can bombast out a blank verse. this is palpably directed against shakespeare and lord strange's players, for whom he was then writing and with whom he was then acting. but greene also says that they had all been beholding to him and to his fellow writers whom he addresses; that is, to marlowe, peele, "young juvenal" (lodge), and two more (kyd and wilson) "that both have writ," whom he might "insert against these buckram gentlemen." this can only apply to the queen's players, for which company alone greene had written up to , having supplied them with a play every quarter and purveyed more plays for them than the other four (marlowe, peele, kyd, and lodge), as nash tells us in his _piers penniless_. there must then have been an amalgamation of the better portions of the two companies, the queen's and lord strange's, just before the opening of the rose theatre, a conclusion confirmed by the fact that the queen's plays had passed into the hands of the other company, and, as will be seen when i treat of the henry vi. plays, deduced by me on other and independent grounds. this attack of greene's was, i think, answered by shakespeare in his _midsummer night's dream_, produced in its first form c. june . bottom and his scratch company have long been recognised as a personal satire, and the following marks would seem to indicate that greene and the sussex' company were the butts at which it was aimed. bottom is a johannes factotum who expects a pension for his playing; his comrades are unlettered rustics who once obtain an audience at theseus' court. the earl of sussex' men were so inferior a company that they acted at court but once, viz., in january - , and the only new play which can be traced to them at this date is _george a greene_, in which greene acted the part of the pinner himself. this only shows that the circumstances of the fictitious and real events are not discrepant; but when we find bottom saying that he will get a ballad written on his adventure, and "it shall be called bottom's dream, because it hath no bottom" (iv. i. ) and that peradventure he shall "sing it at her (?) death," we surely may infer an allusion to greene's _maiden's dream_ (s. r. th december ), apparently so called because it hath no maiden in it, and sung at the death of sir christopher hatton. this play of _midsummer night's dream_ was produced after the closing of the theatres, c. th june , on account of the plague; it and the _jealous comedy_, produced th january - , when the theatres reopened for that month only, were almost the last in which shakespeare worked as a journeyman or with a coadjutor. when he revived these earlier plays for the chamberlain's men he carefully replaced in almost every instance the work of his quondam companions by other and certainly not weaker lines of his own. some of his own work of this date, apparently left unfinished on account of the sudden closure of the playhouses, he appears to have taken up and completed in his - plays. but no doubt the greater part of this autumn was occupied in writing _venus and adonis_, dedicated to lord southampton (s. r. th april ) as "the first heir of his invention," a product of "idle hours:" idle because during the plague no new plays were required of him, nor even rehearsals; the players travelled and acted old plays only. in these circuits a whole company did not usually journey together; it was more profitable to separate into parties of half-a-dozen, and of course to cut down their plays so as to be capable of representation by this small body of actors. one part of lord strange's men, consisting of alleyn, pope, bryan, hemings, phillips, and kempe, so travelled in ; but no document has been preserved respecting the remainder of the company, which included probably burbadge, sly, condell, holland, cowley, and shakespeare. it appears from alleyn's correspondence that cowley was the bearer of a letter to him from london to bristol; that his section of the company had been at chelmsford in may, were at bristol in august, and afterwards visited shrewsbury, chester, and york. meanwhile, on june , marlowe had been killed in a brawl, and his version of the andronicus story was acted by sussex' men at the rose, d january . from their hands this play passed to pembroke's men c. th february, when sussex' company broke up and went into the country, and from them to the earl of derby's before th april. but this company of derby's was no other than lord strange's. after henry earl of derby died, th september , ferdinand, his son, who succeeded him, and who had previously borne the title of lord strange, was called either strange or derby indifferently, he having no son to whom the title of lord strange could be, in accordance with custom, assigned in courtesy, although by strict right this title appertained to the earls of derby and not to their sons. along with this andronicus play the following can be traced as passing from pembroke's company to lord strange's at this date: _the taming of a shrew_, _edward iii._, _hamlet_, _ henry vi._; and besides this transfer of playbooks there was also a partial transfer of the company itself. beeston, cooke, sinkler, holland, and others were among these new members. the cause of this arrangement was no doubt poverty; already on th september they could not "save their charges to travel, and were fain to pawn their apparel." so writes henslowe to alleyn. i must now recur to . immediately after christmas the theatres reopened; but at the rose the earl of sussex' men acted instead of lord strange's, who played about the city, at the cross-keys for example. when sussex' men broke up, on the th april, the rose remained empty except for three days, - th may, when the admiral's company acted there, no doubt under alleyn, who was servant to the admiral as well as to lord strange. the admiral, however, had himself laid a restraint on the rose theatre (probably c. th april), and ordered that lord strange's players should play "three days" (_i.e._, three days a week) at newington butts. this was petitioned against by the watermen, whose calling was greatly in request when the rose was open, and by lord strange's players themselves. no redress appears to have been granted during the life of lord strange, who died on th april, but when the company had found a new patron in lord hunsdon the chamberlain, and had submitted to the order by playing on alternate days with the admiral's at newington butts, then the restraint on the rose was removed. the chamberlain's players, however, did not act there, but under shakespeare and burbadge reopened the old theater, while alleyn left them and acted with the admiral's at the rose. before passing to notice the poems written by shakespeare during this period of "travelling," i may note that these plays acquired from pembroke's men appear to have been written by marlowe or kyd. _edward iii._, by marlowe, was, with alterations by shakespeare, acted about the city in . _titus andronicus_ and _ henry vi._ were also acted by the chamberlain's company; but they show no evidence of extensive alterations at shakespeare's hand; he probably merely corrected them. another play of this date, _richard iii._, bears strong internal evidence of marlowe's craftmanship, but was no doubt completed and partly rewritten by shakespeare. the kyd plays, on the other hand, were not utilised in this way. new plays on the same plots as the old _hamlet_ and _the taming of a shrew_ were afterwards produced by the chamberlain's men--_hamlet_ by shakespeare, _the taming of the shrew_ by lodge (most likely), but greatly altered by shakespeare some years after. another play performed by derby's men contemporaneously with these was _the seven deadly sins_. this play had not been derived from pembroke's men, but from the queen's, for whom tarleton had originally plotted it. the plot as acted in still exists, and is especially valuable as showing the composition of lord strange's company at that date. shakespeare, however, took no part in it. the large number of performers singularly agrees with the statement in the players' petition above alluded to that "our company is great." there was also a play _locrine_, published s. r. th july , as revised by w. s., which has been interpreted william shakespeare. i do not think he could in any way have been concerned in this revival of peele and tilney's stilted performance, and suspect that w. s. means william sly; nor do i think that any other play of shakespeare's, save those already mentioned, can be assigned to a date anterior to the formation of the chamberlain's company except _troylus and cressida_ in its original form, which was probably acted c. . in fact, shakespeare was from the breaking out of the plague in until the settlement of his reconstituted company in chiefly occupied, not with plays, but with poems. his _venus and adonis_ has already been noticed, and on th may his _rape of lucrece_ was published. in the dedication to lord southampton, shakespeare speaks of "the warrant i have of your honourable disposition:" in what especial way southampton had shown his favour to shakespeare has been the subject of many conjectures. my own opinion is that he had introduced him as representative of his fellow-actors to lord hunsdon, and procured them their new patron; but in a scandalous book called _willobie his avisa_, published d september , the version of the connection between the nobleman and the "old player" is that w. s. had parted with a mistress to h. w. and been rewarded accordingly; and it would be useless to deny that the _sonnets_ written between and distinctly allude to some circumstance of this kind. the _avisa_ book was, however, suppressed or "called in" on th june , as a libellous production. this year may be regarded as the turning-point in shakespeare's public career. until the establishment of the chamberlain's company, he had been an actor gradually rising in the esteem of his fellows, but often obliged to travel and to act about town in inn-yards, and his play-writing had been confined to vamping old plays by other men, or at best to assisting such writers as wilson or peele in producing new ones. he had served, as it were, a seven years' apprenticeship. but henceforward he takes his place as one of the chief actors in the principal company in london, acting in a licensed theatre; he is also, with occasional assistance, the sole purveyor of plays to this company, and he is the acknowledged writer of the most popular love poems of his time. for it is to the author of _lucrece_ and _adonis_ that his contemporaries assign their praises far more than to the writer of _lear_ or _hamlet_. poems were in their opinion fit work for a prince; but plays were only congruous with strolling vagabondism. it is just at this turning-point that the first nominal mention of shakespeare is found as acting before the court at greenwich on december and , along with kempe and burbadge. the performance on th december was on the same day that shakespeare and his company had acted _the comedy of errors_ at gray's inn--the earliest of his plays in their present form, but founded on a previous version, in which another pen was concerned. on th january - , _midsummer night's dream_ was, i conjecture, acted at greenwich at the marriage of w. stanley, earl of derby, and afterwards on the public stage; it was evidently written for a marriage, but, like the preceding play, had been altered for this special occasion. its original production was probably in , at the marriage of robert carey, afterwards earl of monmouth. in both instances the bridegrooms were close connections of the patrons of the actors; w. stanley being brother to ferdinand, lord strange, and robert carey son to henry, lord hunsdon, the chamberlain. another play was _richard ii._, evidently an imitation of marlowe's _edward ii._ marlowe was shakespeare's first model in historical plays, as kyd was in tragedy and lyly in comedy, but he followed marlowe much more closely than either of the other two. if any other author contributed plays to the chamberlain's company this year it must have been lodge, to whom _mucedorus_ and _a larum for london_ may probably be attributed. at christmas they acted five plays at court. in , there is little doubt that shakespeare produced his _king john_, founded on two old plays on the same subject which were written for the queen's men in by peele, marlowe, and lodge. their plot has been very closely followed by shakespeare and a few lines borrowed. at some time between d july and th march he also revived _romeo and juliet_, at the theater; this new version was founded on the old play of , in which shakespeare was only part writer. of plays by other authors only one can be traced to his company in this year, namely, _sir thomas more_ (? by drayton and lodge). this play was severely handled by the master of the revels for its allusions to contemporary events, and the alterations made by him afford instructive study to dramatic critics. on august , immediately after the appearance of _romeo and juliet_, a ballad on the story was entered s. r., and on august , t. millington was fined for printing ballads on _the taming of a shrew_ and _macbeth_. this indicates the existence of a macbeth play at this time, but probably, like the older _hamlet_ and _lear_, one in whose production shakespeare had no share. kempe mentions the macbeth ballad as the first production of its author in his _nine days' wonder_. in february this same year james burbadge bought the property in blackfriars, on which he began in november to build the blackfriars theatre, wherein in , after some opposition, he succeeded in establishing the chapel children under evans. the chamberlain's company did not act at this theatre in shakespeare's time. there were six court performances at christmas - . it is necessary now to recur to shakespeare's private life. on th august his son hamnet died, and he unquestionably visited stratford and renewed relations with his family at this time. john shakespeare having applied to the heralds' college for a grant of arms, obtained this concession in october, and in the easter term william shakespeare purchased the property called new place in stratford. in november the asbies business was revived in a chancery suit brought by shakespeare's parents against john lambert, son of edmond. in the bill of complaint the shakespeares describe themselves as "of small wealth, and very few friends;" but it is clear that their wealth must have had a recent accession, or they would not now have renewed a dispute which, on their own statement, had lain in abeyance since . all these proceedings alike, the acquisition of a residence in stratford, the obtaining a grant of arms, the endeavour to establish old claims to family property, point to shakespeare's desire, now that he had succeeded in london and made money, to settle in stratford as a country gentleman, and found a family. he may have hoped for the birth of another son, his wife being in still under forty years of age. but the inferences usually drawn from the incidents of this time, that shakespeare had constantly held communication with his family, whom he had supported during his theatrical career in london, and that he was, on this occasion, largely indebted to the bounty of lord southampton, are mere fancies. the natural interpretation of such records as have reached us is that it was not till touched by the hand of the great reconciler death, in the person of the expected heir to his new-founded fortunes, that he ever visited his family at all during the nine years since he left them to carve his own way as a strolling player. if conjecture is to be allowed at all, i would rather suggest that his family were offended at his choice of an occupation, and that it was not till he had made a marked success that they were reconciled to him. returning to shakespeare's public career--on th march george carey, lord hunsdon, was created chamberlain, and his players resumed the title of "the lord chamberlain's." early in this year was almost certainly produced _the merchant of venice_, founded on an old play of dekker's called _joseph the jew of venice_, written c. , and acted in by the admiral's men, but not now extant. in the same year was performed _ henry iv._ the comic powers of shakespeare appear in these plays in their highest development in shylock and falstaff, and endeavours have been made by several (myself included) to mark this as the beginning of a new period in his manner of work. in such attempts, however, it is necessary to assign specific single dates to each play, and consequently to neglect the proved fact of frequent alterations of considerable extent having been made at revivals. i think it better to regard as shakespeare's first period the time anterior to the formation of the chamberlain's company, - , during which he was employed only as "journeyman or coadjutor," and not to separate the series of comedies and histories which were produced in their perfected forms from to . it may, however, be noted that at this time, , he had entirely discarded the doggerel couplets and the excessive use of rhyme that mark his early work, and that this fact is useful in analysing plays which, though produced later in the form in which they have reached us, were founded on earlier versions in which he was probably only a part writer. another play acted by shakespeare's company this year was drayton's _merry devil of edmonton_. in this, as well as in _henry iv._, sir john oldcastle was originally one of the characters. this name was adopted from the old queen's play of _the famous victories of henry v._, from which the main plot of shakespeare's henry v. series was taken, and certainly was not intended to give offence to the cobhams, his descendants. they took offence, however, and the name was altered to that of sir john falstaff, taken from another queen's play, _ henry vi._, which i have already noticed, and which, with the addition of the scene of the temple garden, was acted by the chamberlain's company. between august and october, the theater having become ruinous, and litigation between james burbadge, its lessee, and giles alleyn, the ground landlord, being imminent, the chamberlain's company removed to the curtain. the earl of pembroke's company, who have for controversial purposes been unjustifiably confused with the chamberlain's, in august acted as strollers at rye, in september at dover, and on their return to london amalgamated with the admiral's, and acted at the rose. among the plays acted by shakespeare's company at the curtain was _romeo and juliet_, as appears from a singular allusion in marston's _satires_, which also serves to show that this play then, as now, was one of the most popular of his productions. but his popularity is shown in another way this year. coincidently with the removal to the curtain, we find the first appearance of authorised publication of his plays, _richard ii._ having been entered s. r. on th august, and _richard iii._ on th october. the _romeo and juliet_ printed this year was neither entered nor authorised. on th december _love's labour's lost_ was acted at court, being one of four plays provided for the christmas festivities by this company. it was probably specially commanded, and the alterations from the version, which were very hurriedly done, were almost certainly made on this occasion. on th february , the first part of _henry iv._ was printed, and the second part was acted soon after. the popularity of these plays caused a re-issue in this year of the old queen's play of _the famous victories of henry v._, brought out in order that the purchaser might imagine he was procuring a copy of shakespeare's plays. the genuine _henry iv._, for this and reasons alluded to above connected with the elimination of oldcastle's name, was published earlier after its production on the stage than usual. for the same reason this alteration was expressly alluded to in the epilogue to _ henry iv._, "oldcastle is not the man." in this same year _much ado about nothing_ (probably a recast of _love's labour's won_) was performed. on th september was entered s. r., meres' _wit's treasury_, which contains, among many encomiums of shakespeare, a list of twelve of his plays. this tract was demonstrably not written till june, and the plays are manifestly those that had been produced by shakespeare during the existence of the chamberlain's company. these are: _gentlemen of verona_ ( ), _errors_ ( ), _love's labour's lost_ ( ), _love's labour's won_ ( ), _midsummer night's dream_ ( ), and _merchant of venice_ ( ); _richard ii._ ( ), _richard iii._ ( ), _henry iv._ ( ), _king john_ ( ), _titus andronicus_ ( ), and _romeo and juliet_ ( ). plays produced before or in that had not been recast after that year are not mentioned; for instance, _ henry vi._ ( ), _troylus and cressida_ ( ), _the merry wives of windsor_ ( ), and _edward iii._ ( ). this list is of the highest value, when rightly understood, in determining the order of production of the plays. another event, important to the welfare of the chamberlain's company, was the introduction of ben jonson as a play-writer for their stage. this took place in september, and there is no reason for doubting the tradition that he was introduced to them by shakespeare, who acted in _every man in his humour_, as it was published in the quarto, before the end of the year. the fact that the chamberlain's men acted three plays at court during the christmas festivities, closes the theatrical record for , but one or two other details remain to be noticed. the establishment of peace on may by the treaty of vervins, compared with _sonnet _, "olives of endless age," fixes the conclusion of these effusions as about this time, and southampton's marriage at the end of the year precluded the need of their continuance. they probably were finished before meres' mention of them in _wit's treasury_ (written c. july) as shakespeare's "sugared sonnets among his private friends." little details of evidence are also extant, showing that since his purchase of new place, shakespeare's residence was partly in the country. on th february he appears as third largest owner of corn in his ward at stratford, and in october we find him procuring a loan of £ in london, for his friend and countryman richard quiney. his london residence at this time was in st. helen's, bishopsgate; but still earlier than this, on th january, he was in negotiation about the purchase of some thirty acres of land at shottery, and abraham sturley wrote from stratford to his brother-in-law, the same richard quiney, urging him to suggest to shakespeare the purchase of the corporation tithe-lease; it "would advance him indeed, and would do us much good," says sturley. in january - james burbadge brought his dispute with giles alleyn about the theater to a practical conclusion by removing the materials of that structure from shoreditch to the bankside, and erecting the globe with them. this "round" was opened in the spring, and in it all the plays of shakespeare not hitherto noticed were originally produced. before quitting the curtain, however, _a warning for fair women_ was there acted by the chamberlain's men. this was in my opinion lodge's last play. another play of the same date was shakespeare's _henry v._, reproduced, with additions and alterations, at the globe in the autumn of the same year. other globe plays of this year were _as you like it_, and jonson's _every man out of his humour_. this latter was the first of his comical satires, in which he introduces on the stage marston, dekker, monday, the globe players, &c. only this one was acted by shakespeare's company, and it is specially remarkable that shakespeare did not take a part in it, although he had acted in _every man in his humour_ in . it is pretty clear that he disliked jonson's personalities, and it is certain that jonson had to remove them from the globe theatre to the blackfriars, where the children of the revels acted under evans _the case is altered_ ( ), _cynthia's revels_ ( ), and _the poetaster_ ( ). chapman supported johnson with _sir giles goosecap_ ( ). the paul's children retaliated with marston's _jack drum's entertainment_ ( ), and _antonio and mellida_ ( ); the admiral's at the rose with marston's _histriomastix_, and _patient grissel_ by dekker, haughton, and chettle (december ); and the chamberlain's with dekker's _satiromastix_ ( ). all these plays, and the list is not exhaustive, are filled with personal allusions. the quarrel was known as the "war of the theatres." the prevalent dislike to regard shakespeare as less than angelic has prevented due attention being given to the direct statement in _the return from parnassus_ (acted - ) that he had put down all the playwrights of the university press and administered a purge to jonson in return for the emetic which he administers to marston in _the poetaster_. shakespeare certainly did take part in this controversy, and it is in the plays dating - that we must look for his contributions to it. one thing, however, is certain, that he did not act as a violent partisan. if he purged jonson he did not spare dekker, who had written for his own company in this quarrel; "when rank thersites opes his mastick jaws" (_troylus_, i. ) identifies him clearly enough. in fact, when the globe company wanted a thorough party advocate in this matter it was not to shakespeare that they applied. they took the very unusual course of hiring a poet from a rival company, and hence dekker's _satiromastix_ was written for them. i venture to add that this would not have been allowed by shakespeare had he been in london at the time, and that it had to be transferred to the sole use of the paul's children, probably at his instance. recurring to _every man out of his humour_, the beginning of all this strife, a comparison of the actor list with that of jonson's preceding play shows that kempe, beeston, and others had left the chamberlain's company on the opening of the globe. they no doubt remained at the curtain, where a company called lord derby's soon began to act. this secession did not injure the globe men, who became very popular. in october, for instance, we hear of lord southampton going to plays every day, of course at his old player _protégé's_ house. but that some serious quarrel had taken place is, i think, evident from the exclusion of so important a name as beeston's from the list of chief actors in the first folio edition of shakespeare. duke, pallant, &c., who seceded at the same time with beeston, are equally excluded, so that the omission is not accidental. in this year a perfect edition of _romeo and juliet_ was published, probably on leaving the curtain; and _the passionate pilgrim_ was impudently issued by w. jaggard as by william shakespeare. beyond two sonnets and a few lines from _love's labour's lost_, published in , there is nothing in this book that can be shown to be shakespeare's, but much that cannot. somewhere about this date an unsuccessful application was made to impale the arms of shakespeare with those of arden. the chamberlain's men performed three plays at court during the christmas festivities, viz.: on th december, probably _as you like it_; th january, probably _henry v._; and another play on th february. i think this was the occasion for which _the merry wives of windsor_ was written, or rather rewritten on the foundation of _the jealous comedy_ of . the queen, whose admiration for the character of falstaff is well known, was sorely disappointed that shakespeare had not fulfilled his promise made in the epilogue to _ henry iv._, that he would again introduce him on the stage; and there is no reason to doubt the tradition that, wishing to see him under new conditions, she ordered shakespeare to represent him in love, which order he obeyed by writing _the merry wives_ within a fortnight. the dates all suit this hypothesis, and in any case there can be no doubt that this comedy stands apart from the henry v. histories, and was last in point of time. another play of this year was _julius cæsar_. there is no evidence of any other writer than shakespeare for the company this year, in which the _ _ and _ henry vi._ (alluded to as recast in jonson's prologue to his revised version of _every man in his humour_, acted by the chapel children early in ) were revised and partly rewritten by him. as usual in such cases, the old abridged acting copies of the plays in their earlier shape were reprinted. but there is more interesting matter connected with the publishers in the entries. on august , _as you like it, enry v._, _much ado about nothing_, and _every man in his humour_, all chamberlain's plays, were ordered to be "stayed;" they were probably suspected of being libellous, and reserved for further examination. since the "war of the theatres" was at its height, they may have been restrained as not having obtained the consent of the chamberlain, on behalf of his company, to their publication. subsequently, _every man in his humour_ was licensed on th august, but not printed till . _much ado_ was also licensed d august, and printed; _as you like it_ was not allowed to appear, the company probably objecting that it had only been on the stage for one year, but _henry v._ was printed surreptitiously by t. millington and t. busby before th august, on which date it appears in s. r. as the property of t. pavier, who reprinted it in . the peculiarity of this quarto issue is, that it contains no matter which does not also appear in the complete folio version, whereas, in the somewhat similar cases of _romeo and juliet_, _the merry wives_, and _hamlet_, there is in every instance some portion of the quarto which is palpably by another hand. this agrees with my view that these three plays, as in the folio, were founded on earlier plays, in which shakespeare was at most a coadjutor, while the folio _henry v._ is a revision of his own play, produced not long before. another entry in s. r. is interesting. on october , _the merchant of venice_ was entered to t. hayes, with pavier's consent; roberts had already entered it d july , but it had not been allowed to appear, probably because, like those mentioned above, it had then been only one year on the stage. on october , _midsummer night's dream_ was also entered. of the editions of these two plays published in this year information will be found in another part of this book. on th august the two plays on _sir john oldcastle_, of which only one has reached us, were entered. they had been acted in at the rose by the admiral's men, and were directed against the presumed scandal thrown on the "martyr" in shakespeare's henry v. series. it should be especially noted that the principal author of these plays was drayton, formerly fellow-worker with shakespeare for the chamberlain's men, and introducer of _sir john oldcastle_ as a profligate parson in _the merry devil of edmonton_. of shakespeare's personal movements during this year we merely know that he was in london in april recovering a debt of £ of one clayton, and no doubt acting in the three plays performed at court in the winter. in march the chamberlain's company were in disgrace for having publicly acted "the outdated play of _richard ii._," no doubt inclusive of the deposition scene (which had been omitted in the published copies, under the censorship of the master of the revels), for the entertainment of the essex conspirators. they consequently "travelled," having previously produced shakespeare's _all's well that ends well_, a considerable portion of which is of much earlier date (c. ), but which, in the parolles scenes, has distinct allusion to marston's _jack drum's entertainment_ of the preceding year, and to the "war of the theatres," not yet concluded. they also acted the play of _cromwell_, earl of essex, by w. s., in which the parallel between the careers of cromwell and the lately executed earl is strongly brought out. i believe w. s. to have been william sly, the well-known actor of the chamberlain's company. in their travels this year the company visited the universities of oxford and cambridge, where they performed _julius cæsar_ and _hamlet_. the version of this last play so acted was not the old play by kyd, but one hurriedly remodelled by shakespeare, which we possess in an imperfect form in the first quarto. among the shakespearian additions occur passages alluding to the theatrical war and the popularity of the chapel children, to which the travelling of the company is attributed. this proves that shakespeare was one of the strolling detachment. jonson seized on this defence in his _poetaster_, and represented that the travelling was due to the inefficiency of their play-writers, and makes tucca tell histrio, the globe player, that if they will employ marston, who "pens high lofty in a new stalking strain," they "shall not need to travel with thy pumps full of gravel after a blind jade and a hamper, and stalk upon boards and barrel-heads to an old cracked trumpet." the travels, however, were not confined to england. in october they had reached aberdeen, where they received the title of "the king's servants," and laurence fletcher, their manager, was admitted burgess of guild of the borough. in all probability a version of the old _macbeth_ play was produced before king james--such a version as that of _hamlet_ acted at the universities. its plot would fit more aptly with the circumstances of the gowry conspiracy of than that of _richard ii._ would with essex, and anything more pleasing to the king and people of scotland could not have been selected. during the absence of this strolling detachment jonson's _poetaster_ was produced, containing a vigorous attack on the globe company; and they, in shakespeare's absence, hired dekker to reply in his _satiromastix_, which, with the aid of the paul's children, they represented in the public theatre of the globe, and in the private convocation-room of paul's. during this same absence, on th september shakespeare's father was buried at stratford. he apparently died intestate. after the return from scotland, the appearance of shakespeare's name, as fellow-contributor to chester's _love's martyr_ with jonson, marston, and chapman, marks the conclusion of the theatrical quarrel, and the reconciliation of all the principal combatants, except dekker. but although this book bears the date , it could not, i think, have been issued earlier than march - , after the production of _twelfth night_ on february at the middle temple. such presentations as this at inns of court were usually of new plays; and there is in this play fairly conclusive internal evidence that the theatrical quarrel was not over when it was acted. with regard to shakespeare's other play of this year, _troylus and cressida_, it was as clearly produced after the reconciliation. the entry in s. r., "as it _is_ acted by the lord chamberlain's men," is absolutely conclusive that it was still on the stage on st february - , and was therefore produced, in all probability, in the later half of . in this play the prologue, the love story of troylus, and all the scenes after v. , are taken from the old play of c. , in which shakespeare only wrote as a coadjutor. the prologue and the later scenes--v. - --are manifestly by the second pen in the main, and printed by mistake, the end of the revised version being shown by the repetition of the lines "why, but hear you," &c., at the end of v. . that the version of the play was intended to refer to the theatrical quarrel of - is clear from the line "_rank_ thersites with his _mastick_ tooth," who is evidently dekker, of whom jonson says in the _poetaster_ (iii. ), "he has one of the most overflowing _rank_ wits in rome; he will slander any man that breathes if he disgust him." dekker had produced the _satiro_mastix shortly before _troylus_ was acted; and it has been noted that he was not one of the contributors to chester's _martyr_. i believe the troylus play to have been the one in which shakespeare put down all the university men, and purged ben jonson's pride, as we learn that he did from the university play of _the return from parnassus_, acted in january - ; the character of ajax, "_slow_ as the elephant, into whom nature hath so crowded _humours_," &c. (i. ), hits off jonson exactly, and is a good-humoured reply to jonson's self-estimate as crites in _cynthia's revels_ (ii. ), "a creature of a most divine temper, one in whom the elements and _humours_ are peaceably met," &c. in may gilbert shakespeare (his brother being probably in london) concluded the purchase on his behalf of acres of land in old stratford, bought of the coombes for £ , and on th september walter getley transferred to him (not in person), at a court baron of the manor of rowington, a cottage and garden in chapel lane. the lady of the manor retained possession until personal completion of the purchase. the chamberlain's company were re-admitted to act at court in the winter, not having performed there in - , probably on account of the _richard ii._ affair. they acted, however, only two plays. in the following march, , shakespeare remodelled _the taming of the shrew_ by the rewriting of the katherine and petruchio scene. the play before he altered it was one written, i think, by lodge about , and founded on the old kyd play of acted by pembroke's men. on march queen elizabeth died, and whether it be due to the different requirements of the new court, or to a natural development of shakespeare's mind, there can be no doubt that a marked change of style and method took place at this epoch in his work. it should not be forgotten that the primary object for which theatres were established was that stage-players "might be the better enabled and prepared to show such plays to her [or his] majesty as they shall be required," and that the "honest recreation" of the citizens was a secondary matter. for proof of this see the privy council documents quoted by collier in his _annals_, _passim_, and specially in i. . hence the succession of a new sovereign had greater influence on the tone of the drama than we can well realise. in shakespeare's case it inaugurated a period in which tragedy was predominant in place of comedy and history. all his greatest tragedies were produced during the next four years - . before quitting the reign of elizabeth, i call attention to the significant fact that the chamberlain's company performed at court before the accession of james exactly twenty-eight plays, and that the number of shakespeare's plays known to have been produced during the same period by that company is twenty, and of other men's eight. i do not press this exact agreement as showing absolute identity between the two lists; one or two of the court plays may have been merely revivals, one or two of the stage plays may not have been brought before her majesty at all, but i think the following inferences justifiable. the queen, evidently as a general rule, only allowed new plays, or plays so largely reconstructed as to be reckoned as new, to be presented to her. so far as the chamberlain's company were concerned, these plays consisted on an average of two of shakespeare's and one of another author's--these numbers, however, being rather exceeded in the earlier years, and diminished in the later. shakespeare consequently was to this company in the same position as greene to the queen's men before his time, purveying to their use "more than four other," which explains his rapid advance in popularity and accumulation of property. and finally, the number of plays supposed to have been lost has been grossly exaggerated by modern critics, who have based their calculations on the diary of henslowe, whose policy was quantity rather than quality, and who was continually deceived by his hack-writers presenting to his illiterate ignorance old plays new vamped as if they were completely new. in the plague raged in london. in march before the queen's death, the theatres were closed, and in the license of may , which adopted the chamberlain's men as the king's servants (a title already conferred on them in scotland in ), a special clause was inserted allowing them to act "when the infection of the plague shall decrease." the infection did not decrease, yet the theatres were reopened, but probably only for a few days. doubtless the authorities closed them on account of the continuance of the sickness. the plays acted at this reopening were probably _the miseries of enforced marriage_, by george wilkins, a new author, which was founded on contemporaneous events in yorkshire, and certainly the perfected _hamlet_ as we now have it in the folio. the older version, which had been entered s. r. on th july , was now published, having probably been "stayed," as was frequently the case with plays printed by j. roberts (for example _the merchant of venice_, _troylus and cressida_), but not till the copyright had been transferred to n. ling and j. trundell. in ling issued the second quarto, which in some instances supplies passages omitted in the folio for stage purposes, and in others presents alternative versions and additions evidently made for the court performance (one of nine) in the winter - . it was a common practice to utilise the altered copies of plays acted at court by allowing their publication. yet another play acted by the king's men this year was jonson's _sejanus_, for which he was accused of popery and treason by northampton. when he published it ( d november , s. r.), he stated that "this book in all numbers is not the same with that which was acted on the public stage; wherein a second pen had good share: in place of which i have rather chosen to put weaker, and no doubt less pleasing of mine own, than to defraud so happy a genius of his right by my loathed usurpation." the only known writers for the king's men at this date were wilkins, w. s. (? sly), shakespeare, and possibly tourneur. of these there can be no doubt that shakespeare is the only one that could have been the second pen alluded to. not that necessarily he was a coadjutor to jonson in this play. it is more likely that as he acted one of the principal parts in it he inserted or altered scenes in which he himself appeared. it is clear that "the second pen," whoever he was, objected to his share in the play being published, and no wonder, seeing how its main author had been accused on account of it. this probably explains why the book was kept in the press six months, from november to april . when it was issued jonson's _volpone_ was just coming on the stage, and it is noticeable that shakespeare did not act in that play, and that immediately after jonson quitted the king's men and joined chapman and marston in writing _eastward ho_ for the revels children, in which _hamlet_ is ridiculed. all this seems to point to a quarrel between jonson and shakespeare, and certainly jonson's behaviour in the sejanus matter is not, as gifford calls it, manly. to drag in unnecessarily an allusion to a friend whose personality must have been known to the public of that time, into an address prefixed to a work accused of popery and sedition was unmanly; and, as his friend had objected to it, was discreditable. no intercourse can be shown between shakespeare and jonson after . on th january - , the new company of the revels children replaced the chapel boys at blackfriars. they were, however, in the main composed of the same actors, and were not unfrequently mentioned under their old name. on march , we find that among the king's train, at his entry into london, were nine of the king's company, dressed in the scarlet cloth allowed for the occasion. as these nine are identical with those in the license of th may , which is statedly incomplete, they must have been in some way distinguished from the rest of their fellows. they were, no doubt, shareholders in the globe. cooke and lowin, who acted in _sejanus_ and _volpone_, do not appear among them; nor do tooley, gough, and sinkler, who were at this time members of the company. the nine were shakespeare, phillips, fletcher, hemings, burbadge, sly, lowin, condell, and cowley. in july, shakespeare was in stratford, recovering in the local court some £ odd for malt, &c., sold to one rogers. in august he was summoned to london, the king's men having to attend at somerset house to play at the reception of the spanish ambassador. during this year he produced _othello_ and _measure for measure_, which were acted at court in the winter festivities, along with five old plays of his, and two of jonson's. _hamlet_ does not occur in this list, as it undoubtedly would have done if produced in . it was, in fact, published this year as it had been acted at court in the previous winter. another play acted by the king's men was marston's _malcontent_, with an induction by webster, in which the reason of its appearance is explained. the blackfriars children had acted _jeronymo_ in , an old play of kyd's, which had passed to the king's men from lord strange's, by whom it had been purchased of the queen's. it had probably been taken from the chamberlain's men to the chapel children by jonson, who in , september , transferred it to the admiral's, and wrote additions to it for henslowe. this appropriation of their property irritated the globe players, and when they got the chance, at the reconstitution of the blackfriars children in , they procured _the malcontent_, which had been acted by these pigmies, and produced it on their own stage as "one for another." they also in december acted "the tragedy of gowry with all action and actors," so chamberlain writes to winwood, december , "with exceeding concourse of all sorts of people," but he adds, "some great councillors are much displeased with it, and so 'tis thought it shall be forbidden." it probably was forbidden, as the play has disappeared. another mysterious play is _the spanish maz_, said to have been one of the eleven performed in the winter at court. nothing is known of such a play; but much is known of forgery connected with such statements. in , the tragedy of _king lear_ was acted about th may, when the old _leir_, on which it was founded, but which was a _comedy_, was entered s. r. as a "_tragical_ history" of leir, &c., "as it was lately acted." another play of very dubious authorship was acted by the king's men before d july, when the ballad on the same events was entered s. r.; this was _the yorkshire tragedy_. it was a continuation of the story of _the miseries of enforced marriage_, but treated more realistically and more powerfully. it was published d may as by shakespeare, as in _the london prodigal_ had already been, but in the latter instance the publication was unlicensed and surreptitious, while the _yorkshire tragedy_ was entered s. r. as "written by william shakespeare." the entry, however, was made for t. pavier, an unscrupulous piratic printer, who on other occasions tried to establish rights in "shakespeare's plays" which were not shakespeare's; and no weight can be assigned to his assertions. another play acted by the king's men, in march , was jonson's _volpone_, or _the fox_. this was anterior in production to the plays already mentioned. immediately afterwards we find jonson in connection with the blackfriars children again, and in prison for writing _eastward ho_. shakespeare did not act in _the fox_; perhaps jonson was offended at this; he at any rate did not return to the king's men till . on th may, phillips, shakespeare's fellow-actor, made his will, and died shortly after. we learn from this document, which gives us many other valuable particulars respecting the members of the company, that shakespeare and condell were the two of "his fellows" whom, next to hemings, burbadge, and sly, his executors, phillips most highly appreciated; he left them each a s.-piece in gold, but to fletcher, armin, cowley, cooke, and tooley a s.-piece. he also left legacies to gilburne and sands his apprentices, and to beeston his servant. "his fellows" here means the shareholders in the globe, as contrasted with the "hired servants," to whom he left "£ amongst them." there were then in eleven shareholders, cooke and tooley having been added since th march . on th july shakespeare invested £ in a lease of the tithes of stratford, old stratford, bishopton, and welcombe, as had been suggested to him in . in august king james was at oxford, and among the entertainments presented to him were speeches by three young men of st. john's, who personated the three sibyls who had prophesied to banquo. this interlude would necessarily recall to the king's mind the old macbeth play, which had been probably presented to him in scotland by the globe players, and if, as there is little reason to doubt, he did write an autograph letter to shakespeare, it was most likely on this occasion, commanding a fuller version of _macbeth_. this play was certainly produced at court, probably at shrovetide in march - , but it has been altered since, condensed and interpolated by dances and songs and a new scene with hecate in it, no doubt by middleton in , from whose _witch_ the songs are taken. on th october the globe company acted before the mayor and corporation at oxford, and then, if not from the king, shakespeare would be sure to hear of the sybils interlude. in all, ten plays were acted at court this winter by the globe company. among them was a version of _mucedorus_, with additions. this version has only come down to us in imprints of and later; but there was an edition in mentioned in beauclerc's catalogue, , from which the later title-pages were copied. from the title it appears that it had been revived before the king on shrove-sunday night at whitehall. the original play had been acted about the city, and therefore not later than , before the chamberlain's men settled at the theater. the additions are directed against jonson, whose strictures on monopolies, and sneer at "the miraculous effects of the oglio del scoto" in _volpone_, ii. , must have grievously offended james, who had revived the touching for the king's evil. jonson had subsequently joined chapman and marston in writing _eastward ho_ for the chapel boys, in which the scots were still more severely satirised, and was evidently, as may be seen from the address prefixed to _volpone_, at daggers drawn with the globe men. hence, in the _mucedorus_ additions, the allusions to the "meagre cannibal," the "scrambling raven with his meagre beard" (certainly jonson, the "thin-bearded hermaphrodite" in _satiromastix_), who had, stirred up by envy, written a comedy for the globe filled with "dark sentences pleasing to factious brains;" which would have led to their restraint, as _eastward ho_ did for the chapel boys, had not the king's players been staid and discreet, and begged pardon of his majesty on bended knee "for their unwilling error." the threatened information must have been in the autumn of . to no other play than _macbeth_ can with certainty be traced: and the marked change of metrical style at this epoch points to a period of rest. in all his subsequent plays, many lines end with unemphatic words, such as _and_, _if_, _which_, _but_ and the like, and this change was not introduced gradually but suddenly and decisively. hence its value as indisputably separating the fourth period plays from the preceding. on this ground it is pretty certain that _timon_ was shakespeare's next production; he only wrote the chief scenes in it, however, and it was finished for the stage by another hand. at this time also, in my opinion, shakespeare began to write _cymbeline_, which he afterwards completed himself. this arrangement of his work seems natural; _lear_, _macbeth_, _cymbeline_ closing the series founded on holinshed, and _timon_, _antony_, _coriolanus_--the series from plutarch--succeeding them. a minuter examination of the question will be found in a later part of this work. of other play-writers' contributions to the globe in there is only one--_pericles_, as originally produced by wilkins, which was ridiculed in _the puritan_ by middleton--acted by the paul's children of this year. wilkins left writing for the king's men, and ( ) joined the queen's men at the curtain. this was probably rumoured to have been caused by some quarrel with shakespeare, for on th august , s. r., _the puritan widow_ was published as by w. s., evidently meaning william shakespeare. of all the instances in which shakespeare's name or initials were fraudulently inserted on title-pages, this play and _sir john oldcastle_ were the only two in which they were prefixed to plays not even acted by his company. at the court in the - season three globe plays were presented to the king of denmark on the occasion of his visit to england, and nine others in the usual course. _antony and cleopatra_ may be confidently assigned to . it was entered for publication s. r. on th may with _pericles_(no doubt as originally written by wilkins), but both plays were stayed; the former as having been on the stage only one year, the latter to be superseded by the issue in of the version as altered by shakespeare. on d october _the merry devil of edmonton_ was entered s. r. for a. johnson. the entry for hunt and archer on th april is that of the prose story by thomas brewer. the initials t. b. in this latter entry have misled mr. halliwell and others to assign the authorship of the play to tony brewer. on th november shakespeare's _king lear_ was entered s. r. as it was played before the king on th december , "saint stephen's night at christmas last." this settles two important questions; first, the relation of the quarto text to the folio--the quarto being the version played at court, the folio that retained by the players for the public stage; secondly, the existence of a custom in the globe company of allowing, in cases of altered or revised plays, the version not required for future stage purposes to be issued to the public in print. many instances of this custom are brought to light in the present treatise. on october , cyril tourneur's (?) _revenger's tragedy_ was entered s. r. the date of production on the stage is uncertain. it had "been sundry times acted by the king's players." nor am i aware of the grounds on which the authorship is assigned to tourneur. it was published anonymously. on th june, susanna, shakespeare's daughter, married john hall, m.a., physician at stratford. there were thirteen performances this winter at court by the king's men. in shakespeare probably produced _coriolanus_. on st february elizabeth hall was baptized, within eight months from her parents' marriage. the prospect of a continuation of his family, though not of his family name, was some alleviation for shakespeare of the loss of his youngest brother edmund, "a player," buried at st. saviour's, southwark, st december , "with a forenoon knell of the great bell," _ætatis_ . of edmund's career in london we _know_ nothing; but surely he must have belonged to the globe company. his absence from the actors' lists offers no obstacle to this supposition; they are, after that of _the seven deadly sins_ in , confined to names of shareholders and principal actors. and if player for the globe, why not author? may he not, for instance, have written _the yorkshire tragedy_ under his brother's superintendence, and may not this account for its being published as william shakespeare's? all attempts to assign it to any known author have egregiously failed. however this may be, and however poignantly william felt the loss of the benjamin of the family, a severer bereavement awaited him in the death of his mother, buried at stratford th september . it has always been a favourite hypothesis with me that volumnia was drawn from her as a model of matronly virtue, and it is certain that at this date a final change took place in shakespeare's manner of writing. his plays since the accession of james had been, with scarcely an exception, tragedies; from this time they are really, under whatever head they may have hitherto been classed, tragi-comedies, and all turn, as i pointed out many years ago, on the reuniting of separated members of families. the first of this final group is _marina_, the part of _pericles_ which replaced wilkins' work, and which was written in this winter and hurriedly printed in as a practical answer to wilkins' prose version, published in , in which he claimed the story as an "infant of his brain." shakespeare's version must, i think, be placed after his return to london from stratford, where he remained after his mother's funeral till th october, when he stood godfather for william walker. the court performances this winter were twelve. on th january , _troylus and cressida_ was entered s. r., not for roberts, whose intended publication in had been stayed, but for bonian and whalley, who issued it with a preface stating that it had never been "staled with the stage." this false statement was withdrawn in their subsequent re-issue during the same year, but it proves that the period during which the play had been performed in must have been a very short one; such a statement could not have otherwise been put forward with any plausibility. on th may the _sonnets_ were published, with a dedication to their "only begetter," mr. w. h. i think that these initials designate sir william hervey, to whom lord southampton's mother left at her death in november the greatest part "of her stuff." he was her third husband, and may have been the original suggester to shakespeare, as a friend to lord southampton, that he should write a series of sonnets to him recommending marriage in , when southampton had not yet become devoted to "the fair mrs. vernon," and was entangled in the affair of the frail avisa. in he was busily occupied with the virginian company, and promoting voyages for american discovery, an allusion to which underlies the dedication "wisheth the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth," _adventurer_ being the current phrase for explorer of unknown regions. on th june shakespeare's cousin, thomas green, then residing at new place, stratford, issued a final precept in his behalf against one hornby, who had become bail for john addenbroke, in a matter of debt for £ . this litigation had begun in august : juries had been summoned on st december and th february, and then addenbroke absconded, leaving hornby to be answerable. the plague being prevalent this year, there were no christmas performances at court, and not many on the public stage. _cymbeline_ was shakespeare's only production. in its present state it has evidently been subjected to revision and to alteration for some revival after shakespeare's death, when the doggerel in the vision in iv. was inserted; originally, no doubt, the ghosts appeared in dumb show to music. the globe players received £ as a compensation for being restrained from playing in london during six weeks, _i.e._, during august and september, when the bills of mortality show the plague to have been at its height. in january the revels children left the blackfriars theatre, and set up with a new organisation under rossiter at whitefriars the new private stage. it appears from the statement of c. burbadge, in the documents discovered by mr. halliwell, that that family then bought up the remainder of the lease from evans, and took some of the revels boys, now grown up, to strengthen the globe company. among these were underwood and ostler; but as c. burbadge also names field, who did not join the king's men till or , his subsequent statement that they set up men-players, shakespeare, hemings, condell, &c., in blackfriars _at that date_, is not to be taken as necessarily exact. the king's men undoubtedly took possession of blackfriars for their own performances in or , after the globe had been burned and rebuilt; but there is not a trace of them until then in connection with this private house except this _ex parte_ statement of c. burbadge, made for a special purpose, in a plea which is studiously ambiguous. but there is evidence that other companies acted there. field's _amends for ladies_ was performed there by the lady elizabeth's company and the duke of york's (afterwards prince charles'). this performance must have taken place during a temporary union between the prince's men and the lady elizabeth's, to which latter the play and its author were properly attached; but that the duke of york's acted continuously at blackfriars from to , is very probable. it is not likely that a company under such patronage, and admitted to court performances every christmas, should have been merely a strolling company, and there was no other theatre for them to perform in. the king's men held the globe, prince henry's (afterwards the palgrave's) the fortune, the queen's the bull and the curtain, the queen's revels' boys whitefriars, and lady elizabeth's at first the swan till , and after its abandonment the newly renovated hope in , and then the rebuilt cockpit or phoenix. there is no proof that shakespeare ever acted at blackfriars; there is strong presumption to the contrary as to his supposed shares in that theatre: it was the "private inheritance" of the burbadges, and that the king's men had shares in it at this time rests on the evidence of forged documents and mischievously fertile imaginations, to which the purchase of twenty acres of land at stratford by shakespeare from the combes in june seems to require access of capital to make this new acquisition feasible. _winter's tale_ was certainly produced early this year, before jonson's _alchemist_, which was acted and entered s. r., october , but was, however, "stayed" for the usual reasons, and did not get published till . the address to the reader (no doubt dating ) contains one of jonson's numerous allusions to the "dance of antics" in _winters tale_. jonson, who had produced _epicene_ for the chapel children in , had returned to the king's men when the boys left blackfriars. shakespeare's last play this year, and final finished contribution to the stage, was _the tempest_, produced about november, after the news that the ships of sir t. gates at the bermudas had not been destroyed. this play as we have it has unfortunately been abridged for court performances, probably by beaumont in or , to whom the insertion of the masque may confidently be attributed. there were fifteen winter performances at court in - . the loss of shakespeare was repaired as well as circumstances would permit by the accession of beaumont and fletcher to the king's company in . in that year they produced their masterpieces _philaster, a king and no king_ and _the maid's tragedy_: in _the woman's prize_ (by fletcher alone), the play of _cardenas_ (probably the original form of _love's pilgrimage_), and _the captain_. jonson contributed _catiline_ in , and webster _the duchess of malfi_ in . _the second maiden's tragedy_ (by the author of _the revenger's tragedy_, i think) was also produced in . at court the unusual number of twenty-two plays was acted in the winter and twenty-eight in . these must have included nearly every play they possessed; and the fact that the whole, or nearly so, of shakespeare's plays were revived at court in these two years makes his retirement in to my mind nearly a certainty, and accounts for the not very felicitous praise of his "copious industry" by webster in the dedication of his _white devil_ in . webster couples the retired shakespeare with dekker and heywood: but jonson's works he speaks of as "laboured and understanding," beaumont's and fletcher's as "no less worthy composures." this higher praise is given to the writers who like himself were then contributing to the globe repertory. he mentions no one else but chapman of "full and heightened style." are we to attribute to this mention of him the tradition that chapman wrote _the second maiden's tragedy_? on th september shakespeare's name occurs "in the margin, as if a later insertion" (says mr. halliwell) of a list of stratford donors "towards the charge of prosecuting the bill in parliament for the better repair of the highways." in lane, greene, and shakespeare filed a bill before lord ellesmere complaining that some of the lessees of the stratford tithes refused to contribute their proper shares of a reserved rent. it appears from this document that shakespeare's income from this source was £ . in the same year heywood, in his _apology for actors_, complained of w. jaggard's having printed in _the passionate pilgrim_, d edition, two love epistles taken from his _troia britannica_, as by w. shakespeare, "which might put the world in opinion i might steal them from him;" he adds that he knows the author was much offended for jaggard's presuming to make bold with his name. the name was in consequence withdrawn _altogether_ from the title-page. notwithstanding this, many modern editors print _the passionate pilgrim_ as shakespeare's. on th february richard shakespeare was buried at stratford; whether the gilbert shakespeare, "adolescens," who was buried d february , was also a brother of william's, is doubtful, but likely. on l th march shakespeare bought of henry walker a house and yard near blackfriars theatre for £ , of which £ remained on mortgage (one of the trustees being in john heming, shakespeare's fellow-actor): he leased the house to john robinson for ten years. on th june the globe was burned down. it caught fire during the performance of _all is true_ (_henry viii._) this was not the play as we have it--which is a later version by massinger and fletcher, written for the blackfriars theatre, and containing only three scenes that can be attributed to shakespeare--but a play in which there was a fool's part. wotton describes it as "the play of _henry viii._," but lorkin says it was a new play called _all is true_, representing some principal pieces of _henry viii._ whether new play or not it was probably by shakespeare, written c. , and portions of it remain imbedded in that now extant by fletcher and massinger c. , the original ms. having perished in the fire. just at the same time one lane had been maligning mrs. hall, shakespeare's daughter, in connection with ralph smith. lane was summoned before the ecclesiastical court at worcester on th july and excommunicated on the th. there were only seven plays performed at court by the king's men in the winter - , all their principal writers--fletcher, beaumont, jonson, webster--having left them after the globe fire. surely this is not consistent with the statement of c. burbadge that they had taken the blackfriars building to their own use. no new play can be traced to them till , when the globe had been[ ] rebuilt, and the prince charles' men had gone to the curtain. then they certainly did take the blackfriars to themselves, and with an excellent staff of writers--jonson, fletcher, massinger, and field--they occupied it as well as the new globe. a letter of john chamberlain's to sir dudley carleton, th january , says of the stage in general: "of five new plays there is not one that pleases, and therefore they are driven to furbish over their old." yet jonson's _bartholomew fair_ was one of these plays acted at court. i suspect that lady elizabeth's players were not so well liked as the king's, and that shakespeare and beaumont were greatly missed. fletcher and massinger were not yet able to replace them even at court. in july john combe left a legacy of £ to shakespeare; this fact disposes of the silly story of shakespeare having satirised him in infantile doggerel. in the autumn william combe, the squire of wilcombe, originated a proposal to enclose common fields in the neighbourhood; he was supported by shakespeare, who had been guaranteed against prospective loss by replingham, combe's agent. the corporation, through his cousin greene, the town-clerk, remonstrated with him in november when he was in london, and again in december wrote to him representing the inconveniences and loss that would be caused. the matter dragged on to september , and then fell through. this is the last notice of shakespeare's action in any public matter. on l th february his daughter judith was married to thomas quiney, vintner, four years her junior, without licence, whence a fine and threat of excommunication at the worcester ecclesiastical court: and on th april shakespeare was buried. his will had been executed on th march. it was not regularly engrossed, but a corrected draft, originally prepared for copying and completion on th january, but evidently neglected until the sudden emergency of shakespeare's illness. it appears from this document that judith's marriage portion was to have been £ , on condition of her husband's settling on her £ in land; if this condition was fulfilled within three years he was left £ to his own use, if not it was strictly settled on her and her children. this £ is independent of £ in discharge of her marriage portion, and £ conditional on her surrendering her interest in the rowington manor to susanna hall. to joan hart, his sister, whose husband had been buried on th april, was left wearing apparel, £ , a life-interest in henley street, and £ each to her sons. to susanna hall he left all his real estate settled in tail male, with the usual remainders over. to elizabeth hall all his plate except the broad silver-gilt bowl, which went to judith quiney. to his fellows, hemings, burbadge, and condell, £ , s. d. each for rings; the usual legacies to the executors, poor, &c.; and to his wife his second best bed. of course she was fully provided for by freebench in the rowington copyhold, and dower on the rest of the property; nevertheless, it is strange that she does not appear as executrix, that she had no life-interest left her in house or furniture, and that in the draft of the will, as made in january, her name does not appear to have been mentioned at all. it is only in the subsequent interlineations that her bequest appears. footnotes: [ ] it had been reopened in june . section ii. the personal connections of shakespeare with other poets. one of the objects of the present treatise is to bring into clearer light the relations of shakespeare with contemporary dramatists. strangely enough this has scarcely been attempted in earlier biographies. his dealings in malt have been carefully chronicled: his connections with poets have been slurred over. it will be useful, therefore, to gather up the scattered notices of personal contact between him and his fellows in dramatic production. mere allusions to his works, whether complimentary or otherwise, will not come under this category. such will be found collected, and well collected, in dr. ingleby's _century of praise_; but they consist almost entirely of slight references to his published works, and have no bearing of importance on his career. nor, indeed, have we any extended material of any kind to aid us in this investigation; one source of information, which is abundant for most of his contemporaries, being in his case entirely absent. neither as addressed to him by others, nor by him to others, do any commendatory verses exist in connection with any of his or other men's works published in his lifetime--a notable fact, in whatever way it may be explained. nor can he be traced in any personal contact beyond a very limited circle, although the fanciful might-have-beens so largely indulged in by his biographers might at first lead us to an opposite conclusion. with john lyly, the founder of english comedy, he seems to have had no personal intercourse, although the reproduction by him of many of lyly's puns and conceits, and some few of his dramatic situations, distinctly prove that he had carefully examined his published plays. nor does the solitary reference to shakespeare in greene's _groatsworth of wit_, however it may display strong personal feeling, lead us to suppose that there had been any personal relations between these dramatists; in fact, the very wording of the passage properly understood distinctly disproves the existence of such relations. of all the dramatists who had preceded him on the london stage the only two with whom he can be even conjecturally brought in personal contact before the opening of the rose theatre in are robert wilson and george peele. it is unlikely that he should have begun his career as a novice and journeyman independent of tutor or coadjutor, and a minute examination of the careers of these two dramatists leads me to infer that they were connected with the same company as shakespeare in - . in any case, they were his immediate models in his early work in several respects. it is from wilson that his liking for doggerel rhymes and alternately rhyming stanzas was derived: it is from peele that his love tragedy of _romeo and juliet_--his only early tragedy--derived, in its earliest form, as acted in , whatever in it was not shakespeare's own. wilson was probably his tutor or coadjutor in comedy and peele in tragedy. but this is after all conjecture; on the other hand, it is certain that in - a greater than peele or wilson was writing for the same company as shakespeare, and necessarily in close connection with him. for marlowe he certainly had a sincere regard: from his poem of _hero and leander_ shakespeare makes the only direct quotation to be found in his plays; on his historical plays shakespeare, after his friend's decease, bestowed in addition, revision, and completion, a greater amount of minute work than on his own; and the earlier of his own histories were distinctly built on lines similar to those of _edward ii._ and _edward iii._ the relation of shakespeare's histories to marlowe's is far more intimate than that of his comedies or of _romeo_ to any predecessor's productions. i cannot find a trace of direct connection between shakespeare and any other poet than these mentioned, during the life of lord strange. his connection with lord southampton seems to have been more intimate than any with his fellow-poets. in the _sonnets_ addressed to him there is mention of other pens who have dedicated poems to his lordship, and whom shakespeare for poetical purposes professes to regard as dangerous rivals. the only persons known to have _dedicated_ anything to southampton are nash and markham, although george peele had written a high eulogy of him in his _honour of the garter_ in . markham's dedication is one of four prefixed to his poem on _the tragedy of sir richard grenvile_ (s. r. th september ); ( .) to charles lord montjoy (in prose); ( .) to robert earl of sussex (sonnet); ( .) to the earl of southampton (sonnet); ( .) to sir edward wingfield (sonnet). i am not aware of any previous attempt to identify markham with the rival alluded to in the _sonnets_ of shakespeare, and yet there are many coincidences of language which would lead to this conclusion. take sonnet , for instance. "_thine eyes_ ... have added feathers to the learned's _wing_ and given _grace_ a double majesty." in markham we find in , "hath given _wings_ to my youngling muse;" and in , "whose _eyes_ doth crown the most victorious pen" (_cf._ in , "that thine _eyes_ may lighten," &c.); and in , the _double_ majesty of the grace, "vouchsafe to _grace_ my work and me, _gracing_ the soul beloved of heaven and thee." i do not find in markham the "affable familiar ghost" of sonnet , but this and other allusions may have referred to his _thyrsis and daphne_ (s. r. d april , five days after the entry of _venus and adonis_) which is now unfortunately lost; and there is something like it in the grenvile tragedy, in which markham calls on grenvile's soul to "sit on his hand" while he writes, which the ghost apparently does until it is dismissed to its "rest" at the end of the poem. markham was an exceedingly _learned_ man and the "proud full sail of his great verse" would well apply to his stilted and conceited effusion. he does not in it allude to southampton's beauty, though he may have done so in his _thyrsis_, but he calls him "bright lamp of _virtue_" with which compare sonnet : "he lends thee _virtue_, and he stole that word from thy behaviour." on the whole i incline to regard markham as the rival poet of shakespeare's sonnets. as to nash, his supposed satirical allusions to shakespeare, as set forth by the fertile fancy of mr. simpson, have no more real existence than the allusions discovered by other like imaginations in the writings of spenser. his only notice of shakespeare's writings is the well-known mention of the representation of talbot on the stage, and that is highly complimentary. he may be included under the "every alien pen" of sonnet , but he is not (as i once thought he was) the rival poet alluded to. it may be of interest in connection with this matter to note that in _the dumb knight_, in which markham certainly wrote i. , ii. , iii. , and iv. , _venus and adonis_ is satirised as a lascivious poem. of intercourse with other dramatists while a member of the chamberlain's company, the first instance is that with lodge and drayton. that the connection with drayton terminated in a misunderstanding is clear from the excision of the favourable notice of shakespeare's _lucrece_ from his _matilda_, and from drayton's taking the chief part in writing _sir john oldcastle_, the object of which was to keep alive the ill-feeling produced by the unfortunate adoption of that name from the old play of _henry v._ for the character afterwards called sir john falstaff. this connection with drayton ended in , that with lodge in . if i am right in my attribution of part authorship to lodge in _henry vi._ and _the taming of the shrew_ in its original form, shakespeare revised and altered his plays, but not till after lodge's retirement from connection with the chamberlain's company. soon after this, in , he founded his _hamlet_ on kyd's, but with kyd himself i have not been able to find that he was at any time personally connected. nevertheless, as regards mere outward form, kyd was the chief model for the great tragedies of _hamlet_, _lear_, &c. of course, as regards all poetic essentials, his influence on shakespeare cannot for a moment be compared to marlowe's. with marston, chapman, and dekker, shakespeare's relations were ephemeral, in connection with the great stage quarrel of - , and in no respect personal, unless we suppose that he had a hand in hiring dekker to oppose jonson. my own belief is that he was away in scotland when _satiromastix_ was produced, and that the division of the company left in london did this without his knowledge. with jonson his relations were evidently personal and of very varied nature. he probably introduced him to the chamberlain's company in ; he certainly acted in his play of _every man in his humour_: he did not act in _every man out of his humour_--and then jonson joined the chapel children, and entered on his three years' struggle with marston, dekker, &c. in shakespeare satirised these children in _hamlet_, and about the same time administered the "purge" to jonson mentioned in _the return from parnassus_: at the end of the same year, he, jonson, chapman, and marston were contributors to chester's _love's martyr_. in jonson, who had again joined the chamberlain's men, wrote _sejanus_ in conjunction with some one (with shakespeare in my opinion), and got into trouble for it. shakespeare certainly acted in this play, and must at that time have been on good terms with jonson. all the allusions to shakespeare's _henry v._, &c., in the prologue at the revival of _every man in his humour_ in by the chapel children, and the purge administered to jonson, had been forgiven and forgotten on both sides. but in jonson wrote _volpone_, in which shakespeare did not act, and which gave offence at court: and this caused a new disagreement between him and the king's men (formerly the chamberlain's). he left them, and with chapman and marston wrote _eastward ho_, in which _hamlet_ is ridiculed, and for allusions to scotland in which, similar to those in _volpone_, the authors were imprisoned. the king's men retaliated with the additions to _mucedorus_, of which more elsewhere, and jonson did not join them again for years. he wrote for the chapel children in , and not till , at the end of the year, when shakespeare's dramatic career was just expiring, did he produce _the alchemist_ for them at the globe. it is to be hoped that these two great dramatists were not at open enmity during the later part of shakespeare's life; but all record of any real friendship between them ends in , and little value is to be attributed either to the vague traditions of jonson's visiting him at stratford, or to the abundant praise lavished on him by jonson in commendatory verses after his death. much more important for ascertaining the real relations existing between them are the allusions to _the tempest_ and _winter's tale_ so abundantly scattered through all jonson's plays from to , while shakespeare was yet alive. of other dramatists who were connected with shakespeare in king james's time i know only of tourneur and wilkins--the former simply as an author writing for shakespeare's company, the latter as the playwright who wrote _pericles_ in its original form: the history of the production of this play has already been given. as to beaumont, fletcher, webster, &c., who after wrote for the king's men, and the numerous contemporaries who wrote for other companies, no trace of any intercourse with shakespeare, personal or otherwise, remains to us, though abundant guesses and hypotheses utterly foundationless[ ] will be found in the voluminous shakespearian literature already existing. the truth appears to be that shakespeare at no time sought for a large circle of acquaintance, and that his position as almost sole provider of plays for his company relieved him of that miscellaneous comradeship which was the bane of dekker, heywood, and many other gifted writers of the time. of any one of these a far larger personal connection can be proved than i believe ever existed in the case of shakespeare: and to this we no doubt are greatly indebted for the depth and roundness of those great plays, which could never have been conceived without much solitude, much suffering, and much concentration. footnotes: [ ] the reader should especially beware of a most absurd identification of shakespeare with the crispinus of jonson's _poetaster_, recently put forth by mr. j. feis in his _shakspere and montaigne_. it is a pity that an essay, of which the first four chapters are so valuable, should be disfigured by the palpable chronological and other blunders in the latter portions of the volume. section iii. annals on which the preceding sections are founded. until april . on th april was baptized william, son of john shakespeare of stratford-on-avon and mary arden, at that time an only child, two girls born previously having died in their infancy. john shakespeare was son of richard shakespeare of snitterfield, where his brother henry also resided: he was a glover, who speculated in wool, corn, &c. he lived in henley street, stratford, as early as th april , having left his father about , and in october purchased two small estates in that town--one that is now shown as the birthplace, the other in greenhill street. in he married mary arden, whose father, robert, a yeoman, had contracted a second marriage with agnes hill, widow, and in the settlement then made had reserved to mary the reversion to estates at wilmecote and snitterfield. some part of this land was occupied by richard shakespeare's grandfather. mary arden also received under her father's will, dated th november , a considerable sum in money, and the fee-simple of asbies at wilmecote, a house with sixty acres of land. in john was a burgess, a member of the corporation, and by choice of the court leet ale-taster to the borough, sworn to look to the assize and goodness of bread, ale, or beer. in september he was one of the four constables under the rules of the court leet. on th october he was again chosen constable and one of the four affeerors for determining fines under the borough bye-laws. in he was again chosen affeeror, and one of the borough chamberlains, which office he held till the end of . . in july the plague broke out in stratford, and continued to december. there died in that half-year, no shakespeares among them. john shakespeare had had an early lesson in sanitation by way of a fine of d. in april for having a muck heap in front of his door in henley street, within a stone's-throw of one of the public stores of filth. he now contributed fairly to relieve the poor and plague-stricken; about d. per month. . in march john shakespeare with his former colleague made up the chamberlain's accounts from september to . neither of them could sign their names. . in february he again made up these accounts, and was paid £ , s. d. "for a rest of old debt" by the corporation. on th october his son gilbert was baptized. . in september, ralph perrot, brewer, john shakespeare, and ralph cawdrey, butcher, were nominated for the office of high bailiff or mayor. cawdrey was elected. for the first time the name appears as "mr." john shakespeare. . on th september "mr. john shakysper" was chosen high bailiff. he was succeeded the next year by robert salisbury. . on th april john shakespeare's third daughter (named joan after her deceased elder sister) was baptized. . on th september john shakespeare's fourth daughter anne was baptized. william was now seven, then the usual age for the commencement of grammar-school education, the use of the absey book and horn-book having been acquired at home. lily's _accidence_ and the _sententiæ pueriles_ were the usual text-books for beginners in latin. shakespeare had some knowledge of latin, and a little french; all beyond this is very problematical. . on th march, richard, john shakespeare's third son, was baptized. . john shakespeare bought two houses in stratford. . in january john shakespeare paid only the amount of borough taxes paid by other aldermen. william was then fourteen, the usual age for commencing apprenticeship. there is a tradition given by aubrey that he was apprenticed to a butcher. i believe this to be a myth, originating in the epithet "kill-cow," often applied to tragic actors. some writers still think that the tradition may be relied on. another story traced to the parish clerk of is that he followed his father's profession. may be so; may not be. . in easter term asbies was mortgaged to edmund lambert for £ , to revert if repayment be made before michaelmas . on th july anne shakespeare was buried; in the chamberlain's accounts occurs this item: "for the bell and pall for mr. shaxper's daughter, d.," the highest fee in the list. on th october john shakespeare and his wife convey their interest in snitterfield to robert webbe. agnes arden's will is dated in this year. . on d may, edmund, son of john shakespeare, was baptized. on or before th september, the money in discharge of the asbies mortgage was tendered and refused unless other moneys due were also paid. . on th january the goods of agnes arden, deceased, were appraised. on st september richard hathaway of shottery made his will. . on th november the marriage bond between william shagspere and anne hathway was given, under condition that neither party had been precontracted to another person, and that the said william shagspere should not proceed to solemnization with the said anne hathway without consent of her friends. they were to be married with one asking of the banns. the bondsmen were fulk sandells and john richardson,--the seal is r.h., which may be richard hathaway's. . on may th susanna their daughter was baptized. it is assumed that a precontract existed between the parents which, according to the custom of the time, "was not legally recognised, but it invalidated a subsequent union of either of the parties with any one else" (halliwell, _outlines_, p. ). the reader must form his own opinion. taking into consideration the low morality of the time in such matters, the fact that anne hathaway was twenty-six, and shakespeare eighteen in , the practice still not unknown in rural districts of cohabitation under conditional promise of marriage, should the probable birth of a child make it necessary or prudent, the fact that from to we have no evidence that shakespeare even saw his wife, and the palpable indications in the _sonnets_ that during this interval he was intriguing with another woman--for my own part i cannot help adopting de quincey's view that he was entrapped into some such conditional promise by this lady and kept his promise honourably. compare on the precontract question the plays of _the miseries of enforced marriage_ by wilkins, which is founded on the contemporary history of the same calverley who is the murderer in _the yorkshire tragedy_, with shakespeare's own views in in _measure for measure_; his opinions in _twelfth night_, ii. (early part, c. ), and _midsummer night's dream_, i. , on wives that are older than their husbands: and, by way of showing that his plays do discover sometimes his personal feelings, valentine's resignation of silvia in _the two gentlemen of verona_, with the story involved in the _sonnets_ of shakespeare's own transfer of his illicit love. . february . hamnet and judith, shakspeare's twin children, were baptized at stratford-on-avon. by april th he had certainly attained his majority, and his apprenticeship had probably expired. - . three or four years after his union with anne hathaway, he had, says rowe, "by a misfortune common enough to young fellows, fallen into ill company, and, amongst them, some, that made a frequent practice of deer stealing, engaged him with them more than once in robbing a park, that belonged to sir thomas lucy of charlecote, near stratford; for this he was prosecuted by that gentleman, as he thought, somewhat too severely, and in order to revenge that ill usage made a ballad upon him, and though 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 degree that he was obliged to leave his business and family in warwickshire for some time, and shelter himself in london." whether this tradition be well founded or no, we are compelled by subsequent events to place the date of shakespeare's leaving stratford in or about ; and whether there be any truth in the story traced to davenant or not, that he held horses at the play-house door, while their owners were witnessing performances inside, it is certain that he was very soon connected with the stage, first as actor, then as dramatic writer. it becomes therefore of importance to ascertain if possible the specific company with which he originally joined. in the latter part of there were two regular theatres existing in london, the theater and the curtain. it clearly appears from a report by recorder fleetwood preserved in the lansdown mss. that at whitsuntide these were occupied by the queen's players and those of lord arundel. it is not clear that a third company, that of lord hunsdon, acted at the theater: although mr. j. o. h. phillipps (whom i most usually refer to under his former and better known name of halliwell) assures us that it is so. it is true that the "owner of the theater," whom he takes to be a temporary occupier of that building, but whom i regard as the ground landlord, giles alleyn, is called a servant of lord hunsdon's, and that a company of actors, called lord hunsdon's men, acted at court th december ; but it does not follow that these men were occupiers of the theater. in fact the only companies anyhow known to us as in london in are the two already mentioned. it is by no means likely _à priori_, nor would it agree with the passages hereafter to be referred to in the writings of greene and nash, that shakespeare should immediately on his appearance in london obtain employment in either. but there was a third company not noticed in collier's _annals of the stage_, into which he may easily have obtained admittance. when the queen's company was formed in th march - , by the selection of twelve players from the companies of the two dudleys, earls of leicester and warwick, there must have been sufficient men left unemployed to form another company. these were probably still retained by the earl of leicester: for in a letter from sir philip sidney, dated utrecht, th march - , mention is made of "will, the earl of leicester's jesting player," who had gone with the earl to the netherlands in december . thomas heywood, in his _apology for actors_, , tells us that "the king of denmark, father to him that now reigneth, entertained into his service a company of english comedians, commended unto him by the honourable earl of leicester." this king of denmark, frederick ii., died in , and the exact date of the transaction is fixed by documents dated october , in which we find that five of these actors had been transferred from the service of frederick ii. of denmark to that of christian i., duke of saxony. i am far from wishing to adopt the conjecture of mr. bruce that "jesting will" was shakespeare; but when among the names of these five actors--thomas king, thomas stephen, george bryan, thomas pope, robert persie--we find two, pope and bryan, that are identical with those of two actors in the very first list extant of the first company with which we can positively connect shakespeare as an actor; when we find this same company acting at stratford in , at the very time that shakespeare's disappearance from all known connection with that town for nine years commences; when we find among a list of plays that had been acted by the english in germany _hester and ahasuerus_, _titus andronicus_ [_and vespasian_], both of which we shall trace to shakespeare's company; when we also find a version of the corambis _hamlet_ existing early in the same country--then i think we are justified in saying that there is great likelihood of this company having been the one in which shakespeare found his first employment. if so, he accompanied it in all its fortunes, and never (as we shall see) forsook it for another. . meanwhile in london the plague had prevailed to such an extent that the theatres were shut up during . it was not then during this year that shakespeare held horses at stage-doors, or obtained employment in london theatres. but at the end of the year lord leicester's players returned to england, and in january - are mentioned together with the queen's, the admiral's, and the earl of oxford's, in a letter to walsingham from a spy of his, which is preserved in the harleian mss. . this same company, the earl of leicester's men, visited stratford-on-avon in . i have not been able to trace their previous presence there since , although other companies paid frequent visits to this town. it is singular that in this year, the only one in which this company visited stratford during the twelve years intervening between the birth and death of hamnet shakespeare, we find also the only record of the poet's presence in the place of his nativity. i give this in the words of mr. halliwell. "in his parents had borrowed the sum of £ on the security of his mother's estate of asbies, from their connexion, edmund lambert of barton-on-the-heath. the loan remaining unpaid, and the mortgage dying in march , his son and heir john was naturally desirous of having the matter settled. john shakespeare being at that time in prison for debt, and obviously unable to furnish the money, it was arranged shortly afterwards that lambert should, on cancelling the mortgage and paying also the sum of £ , receive from the shakespeares an absolute title to the estate. his offer would perhaps not have been made had it not been ascertained that the eldest son william had a contingent interest, derived no doubt from a settlement, and that his assent was essential to the security of a conveyance. the proposed arrangement was not completed, but" the poet's sanction to it is recorded. i believe that immediately after this, in , shakespeare left stratford either with or in order to join lord leicester's company. . the earl of leicester died on th september . previously to this date the company of players acting under his patronage had played in london, probably at the cross-keys in bishopsgate street, and more frequently had travelled in the country. at the death of dudley, they had of course to seek for a new patron, and no doubt found one in ferdinando, lord strange, whose company (containing as we shall see some of the actors already known as leicester's men) are first traceable in . an earlier company bearing the title of lord strange's men, c. , seem to have been merely acrobats or posture-mongers. but before entering on the history of this company under its new name, of which we _know_ shakespeare to have been a member, we must note some particulars regarding other dramatists, especially marlowe, greene, and nash, which indirectly concern shakespeare, and have hitherto been wrongly interpreted. in , when the admiral's men re-opened after the plague, they produced, in what succession we need not here determine, greene's _orlando_ and _alphonsus of arragon_, peele's _battle of alcazar_, and marlowe's _tamberlaine_. those plays are enumerated in peele's _farewell_, , as-- "mahomet's pow, and mighty tamberlaine, king charlemagne, tom stukeley, and the rest." "mahomet's pow" is the head of mahomet in _alphonsus_; king charlemagne was probably a character in the complete play of _orlando_, of which only a mutilated copy has come down to us; tom stukeley is the hero of _the battle of alcazar_; and "the rest" most likely indicate lodge's _marius and sylla_ and marlowe's _faustus_. greene and peele wrote no more for this company, but in removed to the queen's men, who had been travelling in the country. on th march greene's _perimedes the blacksmith_ was entered on the stationers' registers. in the introduction greene attacks marlowe and lodge, who had remained with the admiral's men, in a passage worth quoting: "i keep my old course still to palter up something in prose, using mine old posy still, _omne tulit punctum_; although lately two gentlemen poets made two madmen of rome beat it out of their paper bucklers, and had it in derision, for that i could not make my verses jet upon the stage in tragical buskins, every word filling the mouth like the fa-burden of bow-bell, daring god out of heaven with that atheist tamberlaine or blaspheming with the mad priest of the sun. but let me rather openly pocket up the ass at diogenes' hand than wantonly set out such impious instances of intolerable poetry. such mad and scoffing poets that have poetical spirits as bred of merlin's race, if there be any in england that set the end of scholarism in an english blank verse, i think either it is the humour of a novice that tickles them with self-love, or too much frequenting the hot-house (to use the german proverb) hath sweat out all the greatest part of their wits." for the fuller understanding of this satire it may be noted that no "priest of the sun" is known in an early play except in _the looking-glass for london and england_ by lodge and greene, which is certainly of later date than _perimedes_, yet may indicate lodge's liking for that character; that diogenes is the name assumed by lodge in his _catharos_, , and that marlowe's name was written merlin as often as marlowe. there can be no doubt as to the persons aimed at, nor of the effect of the satire, for both of them left off writing for the admiral's men; and marlowe during the next two years produced _the jew of malta_, which can be traced to the queen's company, and together with greene, lodge, and peele produced the plays of _the troublesome reign of king john_, and _the first part of york and lancaster_ on which _ henry vi._ is founded. the internal evidence for the authorship of these last-mentioned plays is very strong: they were, however, published anonymously. . before the entry of greene's _menaphon_ on the stationers' registers on d august , _hamlet_ and _the taming of a shrew_ must have been represented by pembroke's men, and marlowe must have left the queen's company. as _menaphon_ is accessible in professor arber's reprint to the general reader, it will be sufficient to refer to it here without quoting passages in full. that greene refers so satirically to marlowe as to prevent our supposing that at this date they could be writing jointly for the same theatre, is clear from a hitherto unnoticed passage in p. : "whosoever descanted of that love told you a _canterbury_ tale; some _prophetical_ fullmouth, that, as he were a _cobler's_ eldest son, would by the last tell where another's shoe wrings." marlowe or _merlin_ was a shoemaker's son of canterbury. that doron in the story is meant for the author of _the taming of a shrew_ was shown by mr. r. simpson by comparing doron's speech in p. : "white as the hairs that grow on father boreas' chin," and the passage in nash's introduction, p. , about mechanical mates, servile imitators of vain-glorious tragedians, who think themselves "more than initiated in poet's immortality if they but once get boreas by the beard," with the words of the play itself: "whiter than icy hair that grows on boreas' chin." mr. simpson was, however, entirely wrong in identifying doron with shakespeare, and did not notice that doron's entire speech parodies one of menaphon's in p. , just as _the taming of a shrew_ parodies marlowe's plays, or "the mechanical mates" alluded to by nash imitate the "idiot art-masters" in the "swelling bombast of a bragging blank verse," or the "spacious volubility of a drumming decasyllabon." the name menaphon is taken from marlowe's _tamberlaine_. in these passages greene and nash satirise kyd, then writing for pembroke's company. in another paragraph, p. , nash speaks of "a sort of shifting companions" that "leave the trade of _noverint_ whereto they were born," who get their aphorisms from translations of seneca and can "afford you whole _hamlets_ of tragical speeches." this passage is familiar to all students of shakespeare; and yet no one has, i think, pointed out that nash identifies these "famished followers" of seneca with the "kidde in Æsop, who, enamoured with the fox's newfangles, forsook all hopes of life to leap into a new occupation." this pun in a tractate containing similar allusions to the names greene, lyly, and merlin is equivalent to a direct attribution of the authorship of _hamlet_ as produced in to kyd, and is also a refutation of those who have seen in the whole passage an allusion to shakespeare. very shortly after greene's _menaphon_ nash issued his _anatomy of absurdities_, which had been entered on the stationers' registers th september , and which contains much of the same satirical matter as his address in _menaphon_. we have now to pass from the private quarrel of greene and nash, as representing the queen's men at the theater, with marlowe and kyd, the writers for pembroke's company, to a much more important controversy in which many of the same dramatists were concerned. between october and october the martinists published their puritan controversial tracts; in opposition to them various writings had appeared, whose authors were cooper, formerly schoolmaster, afterwards bishop; lyly the euphuist; nash the satirist; and elderton "the bibbing fool" ballad-maker. they had also been ridiculed on the stage, in april , at the theater, most likely by greene; at the paul's school probably by lyly; and either in ballad or interlude by antony munday, even at that early date a dramatic writer. as the anti-martinist plays were on the side of the clergy and of secular authority they were not interfered with. but in november , in consequence of certain players in london handling "matters of divinity and state without judgment or decorum"--in other words, having the impertinence to suppose that there could be two sides to a question, mr. tylney, the master of the revels, suddenly becomes awake to the danger of allowing such discussions on public stages, and writes to lord burleigh that he "utterly mislikes all plays within the city." lord burleigh sends a letter to the lord mayor to "stay" them. the theater and curtain, where the queen's men and pembroke's were playing, were _without the city_, so that the anti-martinist plays were not interfered with; the paul's boys were for the nonce not regarded as a company of players: so that the mayor could only "hear of" the admiral's men, who on admonishment dutifully forbore playing, and lord strange's, who departed contemptuously, "went to the cross-keys and played that afternoon to the great offence of the better sort, that knew they were prohibited." the mayor then "committed two of the players to one of the compters." these players, however, gained their end, for all plays on either side of the controversy were forthwith suppressed, and commissioners were appointed to examine and licence all plays thenceforth "in and about" the city played by any players "whose servants soever they be." it is pleasing to find shakespeare's company acting in so spirited a manner in defence of free thought and free speech: it would be more pleasing to be able to identity him personally as the chief leader in movement. and this i believe he was. the play of _love's labour's lost_, in spite of great alteration in , is undoubtedly in the main the earliest example left us of shakespeare's work: and the characters in the underplot agree so singularly even in the play as we have it with the anti-martinist writers in their personal peculiarities that i have little doubt that this play was the one performed in november . if the absence of matter of state be objected, i reply that it would be easy for malice to represent the loss of love's labour in the main plot as a satire on the love's labour in vain of alençon for elizabeth. we must also remember that it is most likely that for some years at the beginning of his career shakespeare wrote in conjunction with other men, and that in those plays that were revived by him at a later date their work was replaced by his own. in the case of the present play, as the revision was for a court performance, we may be sure that great care would be taken to expunge all offensive matter: the only ground for surprise is that enough indications remain to enable us to identify the characters at all. . _love's labour's lost_ would no doubt be closely followed by _love's labour's won_, which play i for other reasons attribute to this year. we must now again refer to greene. his _farewell to folly_ had been entered on the stationers' registers, th june , but was not published till after his _mourning garment_, the entry of which dates d november . in the introduction, which was certainly written at the time of publication, although the body of the work had been lying by for some three years and more, greene distinctly alludes to _fair em_ and accuses its author of "simple abusing of scripture," because "two lovers on the stage arguing one another of unkindness, his mistress runs over him with this canonical sentence 'a man's conscience is a thousand witnesses'; and her knight again excuseth himself with that saying of the apostle, 'love covereth the multitude of sins.'" the exact words in the play are "love that covers multitude of sins" and "thy conscience is a thousand witnesses." greene, says mr. r. simpson, who first drew attention to this allusion to _fair em_ in a paper unfortunately spoiled by an absurd attempt to identify mullidor,[ ] of "great head and little wit," with shakespeare, has parallel plots to those of _fair em_ in his _tully's love_ ( ) and _never too late_ (before d november ). to me the connexion seems closer between this satire, by greene the profligate parson, based on scriptural grounds, of a play written for lord strange's company, and the persecution they had just endured for venturing to present a play in favour of the martinists. and as if to emphasise his intention in this direction, greene says in his dedication of his tract, "i cannot _martinize_." that _fair em_ was the production of r. wilson will i think be evident to those who will read it with careful remembrance. the _comedy of errors_ was also probably acted this year in its original form. . in this year were most likely produced two plays, not in the shape in which they have come down to us, but as originally written by shakespeare and some coadjutor, viz., _the two gentlemen of verona_ and _romeo and juliet_. the question of the dates of these and all other plays of shakespeare will be separately argued further on. it may be just worth while to note that the "pleasant willy" of spenser, who has been so carelessly identified with shakespeare, with kemp, and with tarleton (!) is certainly lyly. the line "doth rather choose to sit in idle cell" (_tears of the muses_) identifies him with "slumbering euphues in his cell at silexedra" (_menaphon_). compare "euphues' golden legacy found after his death in his cell at silexedra" (title of lodge's _rosalynde_). - . in the christmas records of this year, the queen's company made their final appearance at court on december th. lord strange's men performed at whitehall on december th, th, january st, th, february th, th. the import of this fact has not been fully appreciated. the exceptionally large number of performances of lord strange's men show a singular amount of court favour, and go far to prove that elizabeth did not sanction their persecution at the hands of burleigh two years before. they henceforth, under various changes of name and constitution, until the closing of the theatres in , retain the chief position in the performances at court. this date, , is in the history of this company of players, and therefore in that of shakespeare, their chief poet and one of their best actors, of the very greatest importance. the old plays of _king john_, on which shakespeare's was founded, were published this year, as having been acted by the queen's company--an additional indication of an important change in their internal constitution. . this year was scarcely less eventful than the preceding for the company to which shakespeare belonged. on th february henslowe opened the rose theatre on bankside for performances by lord strange's men under the management of the celebrated actor, edward alleyn. whether (and if at all, for how long) alleyn had been previously connected with the company, we are not directly informed; but as he gave up playing for worcester's men, c. january - , the exact time when the players of the late earl of leicester found a new patron in lord strange, that is the probable date of his joining them. this possession of a settled place for performance gave his company additional influence and status. at first they played old plays, among which may be mentioned kyd's _jeronymo_ and _spanish tragedy_, greene's _orlando_ and _friar bacon_, greene and lodge's _looking-glass_, marlowe's _jew of malta_, and peele's _battle of alcazar_. this last-named play, may, like greene's _orlando_, have been originally sold to the queen's men, and to the admiral's afterwards; but whether this be so or not, we have the singular fact to explain that four plays, three by greene and one by marlowe, all belonging to the queen's men, are now found in action by lord strange's. combining this with their sudden disappearance from the court revels, it would seem that some grave displeasure had been excited against them, and that they had become disorganised. in fact, although they, or a part of them, lingered on in some vague connection with sussex' players, they now practically disappear from theatrical history. of new plays lord strange's men produced on march d, _henry vi._, which is by the reference to it in nash's _piers penniless_ (entered th august ) identified with the play now known as _the first part of henry vi._ it was acted fourteen times to crowded houses (nash says to , spectators), and was the success of the season. i have no doubt that this play was written by marlowe, with the aid of peele, lodge, and greene, before , and that the episode of talbot's death added in is from the hand of shakespeare himself. in this last opinion it is especially pleasing to me to find myself supported by the critical judgment of mr. swinburne. on th april the play of _titus and vespasian_ was first acted. had it not been for the existence of a german version (given in full in cohn's _shakespeare in germany_) we should not have been aware that this play was identical in story with that known as _titus andronicus_. it is unfortunately lost--a loss the more to be regretted since it has led to the supposition of the extant play having proceeded from the hand of shakespeare. on th june _a knack to know a knave_ was performed for the first time. mr. r. simpson without the slightest ground conjectured that this was the play that greene says he "lastly writ" with "young juvenal." the most successful new plays in this season were _henry vi._ and _titus and vespasian_ (performed seven times in two months); of old plays _the spanish tragedy_ (performed thirteen times), _the battle of alcazar_ (eleven performances), and _the jew of malta_ (ten performances). on june the last performance took place before the closing of the theatres on account of the plague. on august _piers penniless_ was entered s. r., which contains nash's reference to _i henry vi._ on september greene died. on september his _groatsworth of wit_ was entered in the stationers' registers. this pamphlet was edited by chettle, and contains the often quoted address to marlowe, "young juvenal," and peele. in the portion where greene speaks to all three of them, he says: "trust them not, for there is an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that, _with his tiger's heart wrapt in a player's hide_, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you, and being an absolute _johannes factotum_, is in his own conceit the only shake-scene in our country." mr. r. simpson showed that "beautified with our feathers" meant acting plays written by us, but "bombast out a blank verse" undoubtedly refers to shakespeare as a writer also. the line "o tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide" occurs in _richard duke of york_ (commonly but injudiciously referred to as _the true tragedy_), a play written for pembroke's men, probably in , on which _ henry vi._ was founded. it is almost certainly by marlowe, the best of the three whom greene addresses. in december chettle issued his _kindheart's dream_, in which he apologises for the offence given to marlowe in the _groatsworth of wit_, "because myself have seen his demeanour no less civil than he excellent in the quality he professes; besides divers of worship have reported his uprightness of dealing, which argues his honesty, and his facetious grace in writing, which approves his art." to peele he makes no apology, nor indeed was any required. shakespeare was not one of those who took offence; they are expressly stated to have been two of the three authors addressed by greene, the third (lodge) not being in england. there were three plays performed at hampton court this christmas, on december , , january , by lord strange's men, in spite of the plague. i think the latter part of the most likely time for the writing of some scenes in _all's well that ends well_ and _twelfth night_ that show marks of early date. . on january lord strange's company, who had reopened at the rose, th december , produced a new play called _the jealous comedy_; this i take to have been _the merry wives of windsor_ in its earliest form. on january they produced marlowe's _guise_ or _massacre of paris_, which has reached us in an unusually mutilated condition. on february they performed for the last time this year in southwark; the rose as well as other theatres being closed because of the plague. on april _venus and adonis_ was entered by richard field for publication. shakespeare's choice of a publisher was no doubt influenced by private connection. r. field was a son of henry field, tanner, of stratford-on-avon, who died in . the inventory of his goods attached to his will had been taken by shakespeare's father on st august in that year. _venus and adonis_ was licensed by the archbishop of canterbury (whitgift) (at whose palace near croydon nash's play, _summer's last will_, was performed in the autumn of ), and was dedicated to henry wriothesley, earl of southampton. shakespeare calls it "the first heir of my invention," which may mean his first published work; but more probably means the first production in which he was sole author, his previous plays having been written in conjunction with others; and he vows "to take advantage of all idle hours till i have honoured you with some graver labour." he had probably then planned if not begun his _rape of lucrece_. on may a precept was issued by the lords of the privy council authorising lord strange's players, "edward allen, william kempe, thomas pope, john heminges, augustine philipes, and george brian" to play "where the infection is not, so it be not within seven miles of london or of the court, that they may be in the better readiness hereafter for her majesty's service." this list of names is by no means a complete one of the company of players; but probably does consist of all the _shareholders_ therein. shakespeare was not a shareholder yet. alleyn is described as servant to the admiral as well as to lord strange. accordingly they travelled and acted in the country--in july at bristol, afterwards at shrewsbury. meanwhile on june marlowe was killed, leaving unpublished his poem, _hero and leander_, his play _dido_, and in my opinion other plays; of which more hereafter. on th september henry earl of derby died, and ferdinand lord strange succeeded to his honours. his company of players are consequently sometimes called the earl of derby's for the next six months. there were no performances at court at christmas on account of the plague. . on d january _titus andronicus_ was acted as a new play by sussex' men at the rose. this company gave up playing there on th february. on th february the _andronicus_ play was entered on s. r. langbaine, who professes to have seen this edition, says it was acted by the players of "pembroke, derby, and essex." essex is clearly a mistake for sussex, for in the edition the companies are given as "sussex, pembroke, and derby." halliwell's careless statement that lord strange's players transferred their services to lord hunsdon in , has led me and others into grave difficulty on this matter. the fact is that lord derby's players became servants to the chamberlain between th april, when lord derby died, and d june, when they played at newington butts under the latter appellation. there was strictly no lord strange's company after th september , and no other derby's company till . the old name strange, however, does sometimes occur instead of derby. hence it seemed that the transfer to derby's company must have taken place in . indeed so little was the fact known even in , that shakespeare's company enjoyed the title of derby's men for six months, that although that name is given on the first page, on the title the same men reappear as the lord chamberlain's. why pembroke's men should have acquired the play on th february, and possibly parted with it by the th, does not appear, nor is there any parallel instance known: there must have been some great changes in their constitution at this time. but in any case shakespeare did not write the play; mr. halliwell's theory that he left lord strange's men, who in enjoyed the highest position of any then existing, and after having been a member successively of two of the obscurest companies, returned to his former position within a few months, is utterly untenable. there is no vestige of evidence that shakespeare ever wrote for any company but one. on th march _york and lancaster_ (_ henry vi._) was entered on s. r. from st to th april sussex' men and the queen's acted at the rose, among other plays, the old _leir_ (april ), on which shakespeare's _lear_ was founded. both these companies henceforth vanish from stage history. on april lord derby died. on may _the taming of a shrew_ was entered on s. r. on may _the rape of lucrece_ was entered. the difference in tone between the dedication of this poem to lord southampton and that of _venus and adonis_ distinctly points to a personal intercourse having taken place in the interval. hence the date of shakespeare's first interview with his patron may be assigned as between april and may . on may _the famous victories of henry v._ and _leir_ were entered on s. r. on may also the admiral's company, of which nothing is heard since , began to act at the rose, having acted at newington for three days only. alleyn, henslow's son-in-law, had left the management of shakespeare's company on the death of lord derby, and now joined the admiral's men. between[ ] june and june the chamberlain's men played at newington butts alternately with the admiral's: among the chamberlain's plays we notice on june , , _hester and ahasuerus_, which exists in a german version of which a translation ought to be published; june , , _andronicus_; june , _hamlet_; june , _the taming of a shrew_. the intermediate days were occupied by the admiral's men: who on the th [ th] went to the rose, and the chamberlain's men no doubt to the theater, the burbadges' own house. the chamberlain's company at this date included w. shakespeare, r. burbadge, j. hemings, a. phillips, w. kempe, t. pope, g. bryan, all of whom, with the possible exception of burbadge, had been members of lord strange's company; together with h. condell, w. sly, r. cowley, n. tooley, j. duke, r. pallant, and t. goodall, who had previously been in all probability members of the queen's company. c. beeston must have joined them soon afterwards. the names of richard hoope, william ferney, william blackway, and ralph raye occur in henslow's _diary_ as chamberlain's men c. january . the queen's men came in on the reconstitution of that company in - . see on this matter further on under the head of _the seven deadly sins_. on june the old play of _richard iii._ (with shore's wife in it) was entered on s. r., a pretty sure indication, which tallies with other external evidence, that the play attributed to shakespeare was produced about this time. no one can read the four plays composing the henry th series without feeling that, however various their authorship, they form a connected whole in general plan. margaret is the central figure, who hovers like a greek chorus over the terrible destiny that involves king and people in its meshes. but margaret is not shakespeare's creation; she is marlowe's. shakespeare had no share in the plays on the contention of york and lancaster, and but a slight one in _ henry vi._ marlowe had a chief hand in _ henry vi._ and _york and lancaster_; probably wrote the whole of _richard duke of york_, and laid, in my opinion, the foundation and erected part of the building of _richard iii._ at his death he seems to have left unacted or unpublished his poem of _hero and leander_, finished afterwards by chapman; _dido_, partly by nash, and produced (when?) by the chapel children; _andronicus_ acted (under peele's auspices?) by the sussex men, and _richard iii._, completed by shakespeare, and acted by the chamberlain's company as we have it in the quarto. all these plays were produced or published in . about the same time an earlier play of marlowe's, originally acted c. , was altered and revised by shakespeare. the date and authorship of the shakespearian part of _edward iii._, viz., from "enter king edward" in the last scene of act i. to the end of act ii., are proved by the allusion to the poem of _lucrece_; the repetition of lines from the _sonnets_: "their scarlet ornaments," "lilies that foster smell far worse than weeds," and many smaller coincidences with undoubted shakespearian plays: while the original date and authorship of the play as a whole will appear from the following quotations. in the address prefixed to greene's _menaphon_, in a passage in which nash has been satirising kyd and another as void of scholarship and unable to read seneca in the original, he suddenly attacks marlowe, whom he has previously held up as the object of their imitation, and asks what can they have of him? in nash's own words: "what can be hoped of those that thrust elysium into hell, and have not learned, so long as they have lived in the spheres, the just measure of the horizon without an hexameter?" marlowe in _faustus_[ ] has "confound hell in elysium," and, in _edward iii_, _horízon_ is pronounced _hórizon_. this, however, might occur in other plays; but in greene's _never too late_ we find tully addressing the player roscius, who certainly represents r. wilson, in these words: "why, roscius, are thou proud with Æsop's crow, being pranked with the glory of others' feathers? of thyself thou canst say nothing: and if the cobbler hath taught thee to say _ave cæsar_, disdain not thy tutor because thou pratest in a king's chamber." unless another play can be produced with "ave cæsar" in it, this must be held to allude to _edward iii._, in which play wilson must have acted the prince of wales (act i. . ). the "cobbler" alludes to marlowe as a shoemaker's son. on july , _locrine_, an old play written, says mr. simpson, by g. tylney in , but in which peele had certainly a principal hand, was entered on s. r. it was issued as "newly set forth, overseen and corrected by w. s." i see no reason to believe that this was shakespeare. of course he had no hand in writing the play; and in any case peele did not probably sanction the publication. to this year we must assign the production of the earliest of shakespeare's _sonnets_. that these (or rather that portion of them which are continuous, - ) were addressed to lord southampton was proved by drake. the identity of language between the dedication of _lucrece_ and sonnet , the exact agreement of them with all we know of the careers of shakespeare and his patron during the next four years, and the utter absence of evidence of his connection with any other patron, are conclusive on that point. they begin ( - ) with entreaties to marry, which date about th october , when southampton attained his majority, and before he had met elizabeth vernon, and end ( ) in a time when "peace proclaiming olives of endless age," after the treaty of vervins, d may : and before the earl's marriage at the end of that year. they involve a story of some frail lady who had transferred her favours to the young lord from the older player ( - ). far too much has been written on this matter from a moral point of view. the fact remains, and all we can say is: remember these sonnets were written "among private friends," and not for publication. the lady has not hitherto been identified, but is, i think, identifiable. on september d was entered on s. r., _wyllobie his avisa_. dr. ingleby has shown in his _shakespeare allusion-books_ that the w. s. in this poem is william shakespeare, and that hadrian dorrell, the reputed editor, is a fictitious character. he has, however, missed the key to this anonymity; viz., that the book was known to be a personal satirical libel. p[eter] c[olse], according to the author of _avisa_, "misconstrued" the poem; and so necessitated the further figment in the edition that the supposed author, a. willobie, was dead; in this edition the mythical h. d. says: "if you ask me for the persons, i am altogether ignorant of them, and have set them down only as i find them named or disciphered in my author. for the truth of this action, if you enquire, i will more fully deliver my opinion hereafter." but independently of this evidence from the book itself we find in s. r. (arber, iii. ) that when the works of marston, davies, &c., were burnt in the hall, th june , other books were "stayed;" viz., _caltha poetarum_, hall's _satires_, and "_willobie's adviso_ to be called in." this marks the book as of the same character as its companions; viz., libellous, calumnious, personally abusive. the characters in the poems were evidently representations of real living persons. the heroine of the poem is av[)i]sa, or av[=i]sa (sometimes written a vis a), that is, avice or avice a. this name was not uncommon (see camden's _remaines_, p. ). she lived in the west of england, "where austin pitched his monkish tent," in a house "where hangs the badge of england's saint." the place is more fully described thus:-- "at east of this a castle stands by ancient shepherds built of old, and lately was in shepherds' hands, though now by brothers bought and sold: at west side springs a crystal well: there doth this chaste avisa dwell." and again:-- "in sea-bred soil on tempe downs, whose silver spring from neptune's well with mirth salutes the neighbouring towns." these descriptions suit the vale of evesham, the castle being that of bengworth and the well that of abberton. austin's oak was traditionally placed in this part by some, though others put it in gloucestershire. avisa's parents are mentioned as "of meanest trade." they were, i take it, inn-keepers, and the inn had the sign of st. george. the other characters are d. b., a frenchman, with motto _dudum beatus_; didymus h., an anglo-german, with motto _dum habui_; h. w., _italo hispalensis_, and w[illiam] s[hakespeare]. the story is that avisa, the chaste, who "makes up the mess" of four with lucrece, susanna, and penelope, has been married at twenty, tempted by a nobleman, a cavaliero, a frenchman, an anglo-german, &c., without result, and is consequently england's _rara avis_, who matches those of greece, palestine, and rome. the mottoes of the foreigners, however, point to a different conclusion, and so does this passage: "if any one, therefore, by this should take occasion to surmise that the author meant to note any woman, _whose name sounds something like that name_, it is too childish and too absurd, and not beseeming any deep judgment, considering there are many things which _cannot be applied to any woman_." in plain language, mr. dorrell believes no woman to be chaste. h. w., at first sight of avisa, is infected with a fantastical fit, and bewrays his disease to his familiar friend, w. s., who, _not long before_, had tried the courtesy of the like passion, and was now newly recovered [in ]. having been laughed at himself he determined to see whether it would sort to a happier end for the _new actor_ than it did for the _old player_. doubtless w. s. is shakespeare, and avisa is represented ironically as a _trader_ who had made a frenchman long happy (_dudum beatus_), been possessed by an anglo-german (_dum habui_), had then passed to shakespeare, and finally to h. w. such was the slanderous story published in ; how far true, whether at all true, i care not to inquire; but that it is the same story as that of the sonnets, that h. w. is henry wriothesley, and that the black woman of the sonnets is identical with avisa, i regard as indubitable. of course the thomas willoby, _frater henrici willoughby nuper defuncti_, of the edition is a mere device to blind the licensers for the press. similar devices have often been used, but i know of none so impudently charming as the "author's conclusion" as to the man who is _nuper defunctus_. "h. w. was now again stricken so dead that he hath not yet any further essayed, nor i think ever will, and whether he be alive or dead i know not, and therefore i leave him." on december th and th the chamberlain's servants performed before the queen at greenwich, apparently in the daytime. kempe, shakespeare, and burbadge were paid for these performances on the following march. it is singular that the performance of "a comedy of _errors_ like unto plautus his _menoechmi_" should have also been performed apparently by the same company at gray's inn, also on december th. this seems to be the first mention of shakespeare's play, the true title of which is simply _errors_: but whether it was written in or - , there is no evidence that is absolutely decisive. the allusion to france fighting against her heir, v. ii. . , would be equally applicable at any date from july , when henri iii. was killed, to february , when henri iv. was consecrated. . that the date of _midsummer night's dream_ should be fixed in the winter of - was long since seen by malone, the allusions to the remarkable weather of being too marked to be put aside contemptuously. it has also been attempted to assign other dates on account of the play's being manifestly written for some marriage solemnity. it is not needful to alter the date for that reason. either the marriage of w. stanley, earl of derby, at greenwich, on th january, - , or that of lord russel, earl of bedford, to lucy harrington (before th february, s. r.), would suit very well in point of time. the former is the more probable; because it took place at greenwich, where we know the chamberlain's men to have performed in the previous month, and because these actors had mostly been servants to the earl of derby's brother in the early part of the previous year. there is little, if any doubt, that shakespeare produced _richard ii._ and _the two gentlemen of verona_, as we now have it, in this year. _a larum for london_, or _the siege of antwerp_, by (?) lodge, was acted about this time. the play of _richard duke of york_ was printed in and on st december _edward iii._ was entered on s. r. the performances of the chamberlain's men, - , at court, were on december , , ; january ; february . payment was made to hemings and bryan. . early in this year the play of _sir t. more_ was produced by the chamberlain's company. the name of t. goodale, who was one of their actors, occurs in the ms. it appears from the notes of e. tylney, then master of the revels, that much revision had to be made in its form in consequence of its reproducing, under a thin disguise, a narrative of the apprentice riots of june . the imprisonment of the earl of hertford in october of the same year was too closely paralleled by that of sir t. more in the play to be agreeable to the government. another point objected to was satirical allusion to frenchmen. the date hitherto assigned to this play is " or earlier" (dyce), which is palpably wrong. soon after shakespeare's _king john_ was acted. it contains, in my opinion, an allusion to the expedition to cadiz in june (i. . - ). on july d henry carey died, and the "chamberlain's players" became the men of his son, george carey l. hunsdon. in the same month, or earlier, _romeo and juliet_ was revived in a greatly altered and improved form. all work by the second hand was cut out and replaced by shakespeare's own writing. it was not, however, acted at this date at the curtain, but at the theater. lodge's allusion in his _wit's miserv_, , to _hamlet_, as acted in that house, is inconsistent with any other supposition. on august a ballad on _romeo and juliet_ was entered on s. r. this is taken by mr. halliwell as evidence that the play was then on the stage. on august ballads are also mentioned on _macdobeth_ and _the taming of a shrew_. that on macbeth could not have been on the play as we now have it, but that a play on this subject, perhaps an earlier form of the extant one, was then acted, is very probable. on august hamnet shakespeare was buried at stratford: his father undoubtedly was present. this is the first visit to stratford on his part since so far as any evidence exists. shakespeare returned to his lodgings "near the bear garden" in southwark (alleyn ms. _teste_ malone) before october , where a draft of a grant of arms was made to john shakespeare, no doubt at his son's expense. in november, a petition was presented by the inhabitants of blackfriars against the transformation into a theatre of a large house bought by j. burbadge on the preceding february . the petition was ineffectual. shakespeare's play _the merchant of venice_, sometimes called _the jew of venice_, is generally assigned to this year. i prefer . on december , henry shakespeare, the poet's uncle, was buried at snitterfield; and his wife margaret on th february - . the court performances of lord hunsdon's men at whitehall were six in number, two at christmas, and others on st, th january; th, th february - . . before march a surreptitious edition of _romeo and juliet_ was published, but not entered on s. r. this consists of an imperfect and abridged copy of the revised play, with lacunæ filled up by portions of the original version of . see hereafter in section iv. in easter term, shakespeare purchased new place, a mansion and grounds in stratford, for £ . this was freehold, and henceforth his designation is, william shakespeare of new place, stratford, gentleman. from this time, male heirs failing, his ambition seems to be to found a family in one of the female branches; and stratford is to be regarded as his residence. soon after th march, lord hunsdon was appointed chamberlain _vice_ w. brooke, lord cobham, deceased, and lord hunsdon's men again became the lord chamberlain's. during this year and the next shakespeare undoubtedly produced _ _ and _ henry iv_. the name given to the "fat knight" was originally sir john oldcastle. this offended the cobham family, who were lineally descended from the great sir john oldcastle, and through their influence the queen ordered the name to be altered. the new name was that of falstaff, unquestionably identical with the fastolfe of history. shakespeare had unwittingly adopted the name oldcastle from the old play of _the famous victories of king henry v._ mr. halliwell has pointed out that there must have been another play in which a sir john oldcastle was represented: he quotes _hey for honesty_, "the rich rubies and incomparable carbuncles of sir john oldcastle's nose;" and howell's _letters_, ii. , "ale is thought to be much adulterated, and nothing so good as sir john oldcastle and smug the smith was used to drink." i venture to add that this last quotation fixes the other play. it was drayton's _merry devil of edmonton_, in which sir john the priest of enfield drinks ale with smug the smith, and "carries fire in his face eternally." this play was probably produced between _ henry iv._ and _ henry iv._ the words "tickle your catastrophe" in the latter are more likely to be an allusion to the "gag" in the _merry devil_ than conversely; similar ridicule of this phrase is introduced in _sir giles goosecap_, which is certainly of later date. it seems strange that sir john oldcastle should have been used as the name of a priest; but the play has been so greatly abridged (all the part of the story in which smug replaces st. george as the sign of the inn, for instance, having been cut out) that it would be mere guess-work to try to restore its original form, and without such restoration we cannot judge of the reasons for so singular an impersonation. of course it was attempted to remove all trace of oldcastle's name; but just as the prefix _old._ to one of the speeches in shakespeare's play bears evidence to oldcastle having been his original fat knight, so it is possible that in a hitherto unexplained passage there may be a trace of oldcastle as drayton's original ale-drinking priest. in scene the words italicised in "my _old jenerts_ bank my horse, my _castle_" look very like a corruption of a stage direction written in margin of a proof thus-- old- j. enters castle --he is on the scene directly after, and his entrance is nowhere marked. t. lodge, as well as drayton, was writing about this date for the chamberlain's men. on august _richard ii._ was entered on s. r., and on october _richard iii._ these were evidently printed from authentic copies, duly authorised for publication. about july the theater, with regard to extension of the lease of which james burbadge had been negotiating up to his death in the spring of that year, was finally closed as a place of performance. in october the chamberlain's men no doubt began to act at the curtain, which pembroke's men left at that date to join the admiral's company at the rose; some of them, however, probably cooke, belt, sinkler, and holland, had already in joined the chamberlain's, as we shall see. about this date mr. halliwell says "shakespeare's company" were at rye (in august), at dover and bristol (in september), &c. pembroke's company were at these places, but he has given no proof that the chamberlain's were. the "curtain-plaudities" of marston's _scourge of villany_, entered s. r. th september , would certainly seem to show that they acted at the curtain in . this does not, however, involve the inference that they acted there in , at which time they no doubt performed at the theater. about this same time the play of _wily beguiled_ was acted, which contains distinct parodies of speeches by shylock and old capulet, as well as of other scenes in the _merchant of venice_, which must have preceded it. it has been alleged by steevens and others that this play existed in , but no proof has been given of this assertion. in november john shakespeare filed a bill against lambert for the recovery of the asbies estate. there is no trace of his having proceeded further with this litigation. at christmas the chamberlain's men performed four plays at whitehall, one of which was _love's labour's lost_. the corrections and augmentations of the play, as we have it, may be confidently ascribed to the preparation for this performance. . on january abraham sturley wrote to richard quiney urging him to persuade shakespeare to make a purchase at shottery, on the ground that he would thus obtain friends and advancement, and at the same time benefit the corporation. on february _ henry iv._ was entered on s. r., and on july _the merchant of venice_. in this spring or in _much ado about nothing_ was probably produced. it was probably an alteration of _love's labour's won_. in september jonson joined the chamberlain's men, and produced his _every man in his humour_ at the curtain. this was the quarto version with the italian names. aubrey has been subjected to much unfounded abuse for asserting that jonson acted at the curtain. the actors in this play were shakespeare, burbadge, phillips, hemings, condell, pope, sly, beeston, kemp, and duke. shakespeare, it will be noted, is first on the list. on september meres' _palladis tamia_ was entered on s. r. among the abundant and often-quoted praises of shakespeare in this work the most important for biographical purposes are the enumeration of his plays, the lists of tragic and comic dramatists, and this passage, which i shall have to refer to hereafter. "as the soul of euphorbus was thought to live in pythagoras, so the great witty soul of ovid lives in mellifluous and honey-tongued shakespeare. witness his _venus and adonis_, his _lucrece_, his sugared _sonnets_ among his private friends," &c. a careful comparison of the list of dramatists with that of known plays or titles of plays that have come down to us shows that the _palladis tamia_ could not have been completed for the press till june , and an examination of the list of shakespeare's plays shows that it consists of those then in the _repertoire_ of the chamberlain's company, that is, of those either newly written or revived between june and june . these plays are: _gentlemen of verona_; _errors_; _love's labour's lost_; _love's labour's won_; _midsummer-night's dream_; _merchant of venice_--comedies. _richard ii._; _richard iii._; _henry iv._; _john_; _titus andronicus_; _romeo and juliet_--tragedies. it is clear that _richard iii._ and a play on andronicus, which i believe to be the one we have, were attributed to shakespeare at that time. on th october richard quiney wrote from the bell in carter lane to his "loving good friend and countryman mr. william shakespeare," who was, according to the subsidy roll discovered by mr. j. hunter, then living in the parish of st. helen's, bishopsgate, asking for the loan of £ . on the same day he wrote to his brother-in-law mr. sturley at stratford, that "our countryman mr. w. shakespeare would procure us money." the former letter was sent evidently by hand, an affirmative answer obtained, and soon after instructions given by shakespeare for the procuring the money. we could not otherwise account for the letter being preserved among the documents of the corporation. _the famous victories of henry v._ was reprinted in ; as we so often find to be the case with old plays on which other plays have been founded. the complaint about the name oldcastle no doubt was a special motive for reproducing the old play in this instance. there were three plays performed at court by shakespeare's company in the christmas festivities. . in april a play of _troylus and cressida_, by dekker and chettle, was written; no doubt an opposition play to some revival of shakespeare's older one on the same subject. the chamberlain's men acted _a warning for fair women_ about this time. this play appears to me to come from the hand of lodge. in this year _the passionate pilgrim_, "by w. shakespeare," was imprinted by jaggard. it contains two of the _sonnets_, two other sonnets from _love's labour's lost_, and one other poem from the same play by shakespeare. the remaining poems, as far as they are known, are by barnefield and other inferior authors. there is not a vestige of reason for reprinting this book as shakespeare's. in the spring shakespeare's company left the curtain and went to act at the globe. this was a newly erected building on bankside, made partly of the materials of the old theater, which had been removed by burbadge at the beginning of the year. one of the first plays performed in it was jonson's _every man out of his humour_, the chief actors in which were burbadge, hemings, phillips, condell, sly, and pope. kempe, beeston, duke, and pallant had left the company, and did not act at the globe. but shakespeare's name is also absent in this list, and this fact, coupled with that of the libellous nature of this "comical satire," and jonson's leaving the chamberlain's men immediately after it to continue his strictures on dekker, &c., at blackfriars with the children of the chapel, makes it exceedingly probable that the disagreement which eventuated in the "purge" given by shakespeare to jonson mentioned in _the return to parnassus_ had already arisen. it would lead to too long a digression to do more than touch on this stage quarrel here. i can only say that it lasted till ; that jonson and chapman on the one side at blackfriars, and shakespeare, marston, and dekker on the other, at first at the globe, rose, and paul's, afterwards at the fortune, kept up one continual warfare for more than three years. not one of their plays during this time is free from personalities and satirical allusions; nor, indeed, are most comedies of elizabeth's time; it is only because the allusions have grown obscure and uninteresting to us, that we fail to see that the elizabethan comedy is eminently aristophanic. it is not till the reign of james that we find the comedy of manners and intrigue at all generally developed. another play produced after the opening of the globe was _henry v._, and soon after in this year _as you like it_. somewhere about this time an attempt was made to get a grant to "impale the arms of shakespeare with those of arden," _ignotum cum ignotiore_. the grant was not obtained. at this christmas the chamberlain's men gave three performances at court, viz., on th december at whitehall, on th january - and on th february at richmond. . shrovetide, february . the play performed at court was probably _the merry wives of windsor_. this play is assigned by tradition to a command of the queen, who wished to see falstaff represented in love, and is said to have been written in a fortnight. it was probably an adaptation of the old _jealous comedy_ of , and is more likely to have come after than before _henry v._, in which shakespeare had failed, according to his implied promise in the epilogue to _ henry iv._, to continue the story with falstaff in it. it stands apart altogether from the historical series. march . the chamberlain's men acted "oldcastle" before their patron, lord hunsdon, and foreign ambassadors at somerset house. this could not have been shakespeare's "falstaff," for the obnoxious name of oldcastle would certainly not have been revived before such an audience; nor could it have been the _sir john oldcastle_, which belonged to another company; it may have been _the merry devil of edmonton_. about this time shakespeare, always attentive to pecuniary matters, brought an action against one john clayton for £ , and obtained a verdict. the august entries on s. r. are specially interesting. on the th a memorandum (not in the regular course of entry) appears to the effect that _as you like it_, _henry v._, _every man in his humour_, and _much ado about nothing_, were "to be stayed." on the th, _every man in his humour_ was licensed; on the d, _much ado about nothing_, and along with it _ henry iv._, "_with the humours of sir john falstaff_. written by master shakespeare." on the th the first and second parts of the _history of the life of sir john oldcastle, lord cobham, "with his martyrdom,"_ had been licensed. the "staying" is generally supposed to have relation to surreptitious printing; i think it more likely to have been caused by the supposed satirical nature of the plays. _as you like it_ was not printed; _henry v._ was printed in an incomplete form[ ] without license; while the emphatic mention of falstaff and the insertion of the author's name to _ henry iv._, not customary at that date, show that the oldcastle scandal had not yet died out. this is still further proved by the almost simultaneous entries of the two plays written october to december for the admiral's men by monday, drayton, wilson, and hathaway, on sir john oldcastle. only one has reached us, which is plainly satirical of _henry v._ it was, however, in one of the editions printed in ascribed to william shakespeare. drayton, who was the chief author concerned in its production, had left the chamberlain's men in , and been writing for the admiral's ever since. it is noticeable that after we find the favourable notices of lodge and shakespeare which had been inserted in previous editions expunged from his writings, notably the lines on lucrece in the legend of _matilda_. drayton had probably quarrelled with both his coadjutors. with the entry here on oldcastle's "martyrdom" compare the epilogue to _ henry iv._ this was not the play acted before hunsdon on march , which was probably _the merry devil_. on th october _midsummer-night's dream_ was entered on s. r.; on th october _the merchant of venice_. curiously enough, two rival issues of each of these plays was made this year, although only one publisher made an entry in each case. on d july , j. roberts had entered _the merchant of venice_, but was refused permission to print unless he could get the lord chamberlain's license, who was the patron of the actors of that play. he apparently did not get it; but in , when j. heyes does get the license, he arranges with heyes to print the book for him, but previously prints a slightly differing copy on his own account. he makes with fisher, the publisher of the other play, a somewhat similar transaction. there were three court performances this christmas by the chamberlain's men, december , january , february . the payment for these to hemings and cowley indicates that the latter was a shareholder in the globe. _ _ and _ henry vi._ were probably revised and revived at the globe about this time. . in this year _all's well that ends well_ and _hamlet_ were produced. the form in which the latter appeared is matter of dispute; but we may safely assert that it lay between the version of the first quarto and that of the folio; the variation of the quarto from this original form being caused by the surreptitious nature of that edition, and that of the folio by a subsequent revision in . the company of "little eyases" satirised in this play was not of the paul's children, with whom the chamberlain's men were on the most friendly terms, but of the chapel children at the blackfriars, who were then acting jonson's "comical satires" against dekker, marston, and shakespeare. singularly enough, they were tenants of the burbadges, who were also owners of the globe. in the same year , a poem by shakespeare appeared along with others by jonson, marston, and chapman in r. chester's _love's martyr, or rosalin's complaint_. this publication, could we ascertain its exact date, would show the time when the stage controversy ceased and these four writers could amicably appear together. dekker, however, does not appear among them, and we cannot tell if his _satiromastix_ was acted with shakespeare's approval or not. it was produced at the globe by his company as well as by the children of paul's at some time between d may, up till which day dekker was writing for the admiral's men, and th november, when it was entered on s. r. this bitter satire seems to have been the last open word in the controversy, but by no means the end of its history. the next fact we have to notice may perhaps explain why, just at this point of shakespeare's career, we find in a cessation of production, accompanied by a change of manner in outward form and inward thought when writing was resumed in . in march , in the essex trials, meyrick was indicted "for having procured the outdated tragedy of _richard ii._ to be publicly acted at his own charge for the entertainment of the conspirators" (camden). from bacon's speech (_state trials_) it appears that phillips was the manager who arranged this performance. this identifies the company as the chamberlain's, and therefore the play as shakespeare's. it may seem strange that a play, duly licensed and published in , could give offence in ; but the published play did not contain the deposition scene, iv. , the acted play of certainly did. this point is again brought forward in southampton's trial: he calmly asked the attorney-general, "what he thought in his conscience they designed to do with the queen?" "the same," replied he, "that henry of lancaster did with richard ii." the examples of richard ii. and edward ii. were again quoted by the assistant judges against southampton, while essex in his defence urged the example of the duke of guise in his favour. from all which it is clear that the subjects chosen for historical plays by marlowe and shakespeare were unpopular at court, but approved of by the essex faction, and that at last the company incurred the serious displeasure of the queen. accordingly, they did not perform at court at christmas - ;[ ] and we find them travelling in scotland instead--l. fletcher with his company of players being traceable at aberdeen in october. here the actors would hear of the gowry conspiracy instead of essex', of which we shall find the result hereafter. before leaving london, however, or in the next year after their return, they acted _the life and death of lord cromwell_, earl of essex, a play in which the rise and fall of robert devereux, the late earl, was pretty closely paralleled. this was entered on s. r., th august , "as lately acted." on september john shakespeare, the poet's father, was buried at stratford. . on th january _the merry wives of windsor_ was entered on s. r.: a surreptitious issue. on d february, _twelfth night_ was performed at the readers' feast at the (?) middle temple, "much like _the comedy of errors_ or the _menechmi_ in plautus, but most like and near to that in italian, called _inganni_" (manningham's diary). on th april _ _ and _ henry vi._ (evidently the quarto plays on which _ _ and _ henry vi._ were founded) were assigned by millington to pavier, _salvo jure cujuscumque_, s. r. this entry is important. it shows that the remodelling of the old quarto plays under the new name of _henry vi._ instead of _the contention of york and lancaster_ had taken place; it indicates a doubt or fear as to whether the copyright might be disputed by some publisher, authorised by the chamberlain's men to produce the amended version. in may, shakespeare bought for £ , from the combes, acres of arable land in old stratford. the indenture was sealed and delivered in his absence to his brother gilbert. on july the surreptitious _hamlet_ was entered on s. r., and on august _the life and death of the lord cromwell_. on th september, at a court baron of the manor of rowington, walter getley transferred to shakespeare a cottage and garden in chapel lane, about a quarter of an acre with forty feet frontage, possession being reserved for the lady of the manor till suit and service had been personally done for the same. two plays were performed by the chamberlain's men at court this christmas, one at whitehall th december, one at richmond d february. . february . _troylus and cressida_, as performed probably in by the chamberlain's men, not the play by dekker and chettle, was entered on s. r. the _taming of the shrew_ as we have it was probably produced in march. march . the queen died. on th may a license was granted to l. fletcher, w. shakespeare, r. burbadge, a. phillips, j. hemings, h. condell, w. sly, r. armin, r. cowley, to perform stage plays "within their now usual house called the globe," or in any part of the kingdom. they are henceforth nominated the king's players. the functions of fletcher are not exactly known: he did not act, and was probably a sort of general manager; the other eight were probably shareholders, among whom it will be noted that shakespeare and burbadge stand first. in the list of actors in jonson's _sejanus_, cowley and armin are omitted, a. cook and j. lowin appearing instead. this play got jonson into trouble. he was accused before the council for "popery and treason" in it. when he published it next year he no doubt omitted the most objectionable passages, and put forth an excuse that a second hand had good share in it. this was his usual way of getting out of a difficulty of this kind. even as the play stands there is abundant room for malice to interpret the quarrel between sejanus and drusus as that between essex and blount; and to see in sejanus' poisoning propensities allusions to the earl of leicester. whalley's curious notion that jonson in his argument alluded to the powder plot, ignores the fact that the play was entered on d november in s. r. it is raleigh's plot that is intended. _the london prodigal_, and wilkins' _miseries of enforced marriage_, were written and perhaps acted (at the globe?) this year. the edition of _hamlet_ entered in the preceding year was issued in the autumn. on december the king's players performed at the earl of pembroke's at wilton, and at hampton court before the king on december , , , january [? december ]; before the prince, december , january ; before the king at whitehall, february , ; nine plays in all. a much larger number of plays were acted at christmas festivities at court in james's reign than in elizabeth's. perhaps the queen only cared for new plays. we know that james frequently ordered a second performance of any one that specially pleased him, and often had old plays revived. on th february , there occurs an entry in the revels accounts which explains the small number of public theatrical performances, and the cessation of work of the principal author for the king's men in . to r. burbadge was given £ , "for the maintenance and relief of himself and the rest of his company, being prohibited to present any plays publicly in or near london by reason of great peril that might grow through the extraordinary concourse and assembly of people to a new increase of the plague, till it shall please god to settle the city in a more perfect health." from july till march the theatres were probably closed. hence my doubt as to whether _the london prodigal_ and _the miseries of enforced marriage_ were performed in london till . the king's company were most likely travelling in the provinces till the winter; but were disappointed at not being allowed to reopen at christmas when the plague had abated. . the king's men, like those of other companies, had an allowance for cloaks, &c., to appear at the entry of king james on th march. the second quarto of _hamlet_ was published in this year--"newly imprinted and enlarged to almost as much again as it was, according to the new and perfect copy." this version was probably that performed at court in the christmas festivities - . we cannot suppose that among the nine plays then exhibited _hamlet_ would not be included. of course on such occasions plays were always more or less rewritten. in this instance the remodelling is twofold; the quarto version for the court, - , the folio for the public, of the same date. that the folio does not merely reproduce the play, as it was acted in london, "in the universities of cambridge and oxford" (perhaps in going to or returning from scotland in ), "and elsewhere," is clear for many reasons, one of which concerns us here. in the well-known passage in ii. relating to the children's company, an "inhibition" and "innovation" are mentioned in the quarto of which there is no note in that of . the only time at which we know of any contemporary inhibition and innovation was in january-february . the inhibition on account of the plague, which was going on till nearly th february, i have already noticed; the innovation was either the political conspiracy of raleigh or the attempt at reformation in religion by the puritans. the children of the chapel, who under evans, burbadge's lessee, had satirised shakespeare and other players in their performances at blackfriars, were reappointed at this time to act in that same theatre under e. kirkham, a. hawkins, t. kendall, and r. payne, with the new appellation of children of the revels. the date of the warrant is th january . the king's men acted at court d february, and if _hamlet_ was then performed the passage in ii. may have brought their grievance under the king's notice, and resulted in the gift of £ by way of compensation. i do not insist on this, however, as it is omitted in the quarto. no doubt they had expected to get rid of the children at blackfriars at the end of seven years from the date of the original lease, th february . at the end of another seven years they did so, but only by purchasing the remainder of the lease. in this summer marston's _malcontent_ was obtained in some indirect manner from these blackfriars children, perhaps from one of the children actors who "left playing" at the time of the new license, and was played at the globe, with an induction by webster introducing sinkler, sly, burbadge, condell, and lowin on the stage. this was a retaliation for the children having in like fashion previously appropriated _jeronymo_ (_the spanish tragedy_), which belonged to the chamberlain's men. the curious thing about the transaction is that the _malcontent_ was originally produced in , containing satirical allusions to _hamlet_; and that in both plays, revised, were acted on the same stage, by the same actors. on d november _sejanus_ was entered on s. r. on th december a letter from chamberlain to winwood contains the following notice. "the tragedy of _gowry_, with all action and actors, hath been twice represented by the king's players, with exceeding concourse of all sorts of people: but whether the matter or manner be not well handled, or that it be thought unfit that princes should be played on the stage in their lifetime, i hear that some great councillors are much displeased with it, and so 'tis thought it shall be forbidden." shakespeare's work during this year is shown by the transcript of the revels accounts obtained by malone. the king's men acted at whitehall on november _the moor of venice_; november , _the merry wives of windsor_; december , _measure for measure_, and _errors_; ["between january and january " in the forged copy of this entry still extant][ ] _love's labour's lost_; january , _henry v._; january , _every one out of his humour_; february , _every one in his humour_; february , _the merchant of venice_; february , _the spanish maz_; february , _the merchant of venice_ again. i have given the full list as in the forged copy, but malone is our safe guarantee for all the shakespeare plays. it appears then that in this year shakespeare must have written _measure for measure_ and _othello_, and, as we have already seen, produced a revision of _hamlet_. how much of this work was performed in we cannot tell; but it is not likely that _othello_ was written till . the only definite dates in this year relate to other matters. in may shakespeare entered an action at stratford against one philip rogers for £ s. d., balance of account for malt. in august the king had a special order issued that every member of the company should attend at somerset house when the spanish ambassador came to england (halliwell, _outlines_, p. ). the christmas court performances have been noted above. . on th may, the old play on _leir_ was entered on s. r. on th may phillips made his will, which was proved on the th. in it he leaves s. each to shakespeare and condell, and s. each to fletcher, armin, cowley, cook, and tooley, all his fellows; to beeston, "his servant," s.; to gilburne, his "late apprentice," s. and clothes; to james sandes, "his apprentice," s. and musical instruments; to hemings, burbadge, and sly, overseers and executors, a bowl of silver of £ apiece. on d july a ballad on the _yorkshire tragedy_ was entered on s. r.; the play which has been erroneously attributed to shakespeare was no doubt acted about the same time. _the london prodigal_ was published, but not entered on s. r., this same year, with the name of william shakespeare on the title-page. jonson's _fox_ was acted by the king's men; the chief actors were the same as those of _sejanus_ in , except phillips, who died in may, and shakespeare, a most noteworthy exception. on th july, william shakespeare, _of_ stratford-upon-avon, bought of ralph huband an unexpired term of thirty-one years of a ninety-two years' lease of a moiety of the tithes of stratford, old stratford, bishopton, and welcombe for £ , subject to a rent payable to the corporation of £ , and £ to john barker. this, at the rate of interest then prevalent, was a dear purchase. in his "purchasing these tithes" had been mooted at stratford. as to shakespeare's dramatic work during this year i have no doubt that _lear_ was on the stage in may, when the old play was published. i cannot otherwise account for the description of the latter in s. r. as a _tragical_ history. until shakespeare's play this story had always been treated as a comedy. _macbeth_ was probably produced in the winter, or in the following year. when james i. was at oxford in august, he had been addressed in latin by the three witches in this story, at an entertainment given by the university. no doubt james would be pleased by their prophecies, and desirous that they should be promulgated in the vulgar tongue. no more likely date can be found for the holograph letter which he is said to have addressed to shakespeare. it may possibly be that that letter was a command to write this play. but, putting conjecture aside, oldys says that sheffield, duke of buckingham, told lintot that he had a letter from the king to the dramatist. on october , shakespeare's company performed before the mayor and corporation of oxford. it may have been on this occasion that shakespeare made the acquaintance of the davenants, and stopped for the first time at the crown, the license for which inn had only been taken out by davenant in the preceding year. enough has been written by others as to the scandal about mrs. davenant, and the tradition that william davenant the poet, the godson of shakespeare, was really his son. no foundation beyond a joe miller joke has been discovered for this report. at court, ten plays were acted in the christmas season by the king's men; among them the revived _mucedorus_, which, as we have seen, was an apology for jonson's satire in _volpone_. . in this year, shakespeare's portion of _timon of athens_, and that part of _cymbeline_ which is founded on so-called british history, were probably written. a play called _the puritan_ (_widow_), evidently by middleton, was acted by the paul's boys this year, in which we find direct allusion to _richard iii._ and _macbeth_, both of which were probably on the stage. the same scene contains a palpable parody of the action of the scene in _pericles_ in which thaisa is recovered to life. that play must then have also been on the stage. it does not follow that it was the play as we have it. it may have been, and i believe was, wilkins' play before shakespeare's improvement had been introduced. during july or august, the king's men had performed three plays before the king of denmark and his majesty--two at greenwich, one at hampton court; and at christmas they performed at court nine plays: on december , ; january , , ; february , , , . that on th december was _lear_, as we have it in the quarto version. the folio is that used on the stage of the same date. . _anthony and cleopatra_ must have been acted about this time, as well as cyril tourneur's _revenger's tragedy_. on th june susanna, shakespeare's eldest daughter, married dr. john hall, an eminent physician at stratford. on th august middleton's _puritan widow_ was entered on s. r., and imprinted as by w.s. twine's _pattern of painful adventures_, on which wilkins' version of _pericles_ was founded, was reprinted in this year. on d october drayton's _merry devil of edmonton_ was entered on s. r. the entry on th april under the same title, in which the authorship is ascribed to t[homas] b[rewer], refers to the prose story, not the play. on th november _king lear_ was entered on s. r. on december shakespeare's brother edmund was buried at st. saviour's, southwark, aged twenty-eight, "a player," "with a forenoon knell of the great bell." there were thirteen court performances by the king's men: on december , , ; january , (two plays), , , (two plays), ; february , . . on february elizabeth hall, shakespeare's granddaughter, was baptized at stratford. _the yorkshire tragedy_ was entered on s. r. may , as by william shakespeare. the authorship of this play has not been yet ascertained. on may _anthony and cleopatra_, and _pericles_ (not as in the quarto version with the three last acts by shakespeare), were entered on s. r. wilkins' prose version of the play was printed this same year. i take the order of events regarding this play to have been as follows. wilkins wrote a play on pericles in , which was parodied in middleton's _puritan_ that same year; in twine's _pattern of painful adventures_ was reprinted; in the same year wilkins left the king's company and joined the queen's; in may the play was entered for publication, but not published; it may have been "stayed" by the chamberlain's company; in the same year wilkins issued surreptitiously (it was not entered on s. r.) his "_true_ history of the play as it was lately presented by the poet gower." such a proceeding as this, a printing of a prose narrative founded on an unprinted play and by the same author, is unparalleled in the history of shakespearean drama. it must be remembered that wilkins was not even connected with the king's company at the time. meanwhile shakespeare had rewritten acts iii.-v. in this new shape the play was acted in , and was, as we know from an allusion in _pimlico, or run redcap_ (entered s. r. th april ), very popular. an edition of the play thus altered was issued in , not by blount, who made the entry in may , but by gosson, as the "late much-admired play ... with the true relation of the whole history ... as also the _no less_ strange and worthy accidents in the birth and life of his daughter marina," that is, of the part written by shakespeare. this edition is very hurriedly and carelessly got up. in august shakespeare commenced an action against addenbroke. on september shakespeare's mother was buried at stratford. shakespeare's company had been shortly before travelling on the southern coast (halliwell, who suppresses the exact date as usual). it is always dangerous to read personal feeling in a dramatist's work; but the coincidences in date of his _king john_ and hamnet's death, of his _coriolanus_ and his mother's death, justify, i think, my opinion that his wife's grief is apotheosised in constance, and his mother's character in volumnia. this is confirmed by the great change that takes place in his work at this time; his next four plays are devoted to subjects of family reunion after separation. on th october he was godfather to william walker at stratford. in this autumn _coriolanus_ was probably produced. the court christmas performances by the king's men were twelve, on unknown dates. . on january _troylus and cressida_ was entered on s. r., and published from a surreptitious copy, with a preface, stating that it had been "never staled with the stage." this preface was withdrawn before the close of the year, probably at the instance of the king's company. it has been, however, the cause of misleading many modern critics (myself included), as to the date of the production of the play. in the new issue the title states that it is printed "as it was acted by the king's majesty's servants." on february , a verdict for £ and £ , s. costs was given in favour of shakespeare against john addenbroke for debt, and execution issued. this suit began in august ; the precept for a jury is dated st december, when an adjournment of the trial probably took place. after the final judgment addenbroke was _non inventus_, and on th june , shakespeare proceeded against his bail, one horneby. all these proceedings were conducted not personally, but through his solicitor and cousin thomas greene. on th may the sonnets were entered on s. r., and published with dedication to mr. w. h., who, in my opinion, was some one connected with lord southampton, who had obtained a copy from him or his, and possibly may have given shakespeare the hint to write them in the first instance, at the time ( ) when his friends were anxious for him to marry. such a person was sir william hervey, the third husband of southampton's mother: she died in , and i conjecture that the delay in publishing the sonnets was due to the fact that she wished them to remain in ms. at any rate during her lifetime. the copy used may have been found among her papers. on th may had been entered _pericles_, and _antony and cleopatra_, which were not published by blount, who made the entry. _pericles_, however, was printed surreptitiously in for another firm as we have it in the quarto. this play was probably then continued on the stage, as we find another edition required by . _cymbeline_ was probably produced in the autumn. this year being a plague year there was little dramatic activity; even jonson did not produce his _epicene_ for the king's men, but had it acted by the chapel (or revels) children. for the same reason there were no stage performances at court at christmas. . on th january a patent was granted to r. daborne, p. rossiter, j. tarbook, r. jones, and r. browne, to set up a new children's company in whitefriars. their success was no doubt the cause that determined the burbadges to take the blackfriars into their own hands.[ ] accordingly they arranged to purchase at lady day the remainder of evans' lease of the blackfriars (they had already taken the boys, "now growing up to be men," underwood,[ ] ostler, &c., to "strengthen the king's service"), and to place men players--hemings, condell, shakespeare, &c., therein. before the end of the year we accordingly find the boys alluded to acting as members of the king's company in jonson's _alchemist_. the chief players were burbadge, hemings, lowin, ostler, condell, underwood, cooke, tooley, armin, and egglestone. of these tooley and cooke had been boy actors in the chamberlain's company, underwood and ostler in the revels children. shakespeare's name does not occur; nor do i find any evidence except mr. halliwell's unsupported assertion (_outlines_, p. ), that he continued to act at this date. it is noticeable that there are ten actors mentioned; this is very unusual in these play lists, and suggests that the number of sharers may have been increased from eight to ten. there are certainly about this time allusions to ten shares scattered about in contemporary plays. if this be the case, shakespeare would no longer be a shareholder: the whole question of his shares is involved in difficulty, and this conjecture is only thrown out to call attention to any allusions in writings of this date that may throw light on the matter. the king's men performed fifteen plays at court this christmas. in this year, in my opinion, shakespeare having produced _the winters tale_ and _the tempest_, retired from theatrical work. malone's hypothesis that sir w. herbert's mention of sir g. buck's "allowing" the former play implies a date subsequent to august , is worthless; buck had the "allowing" of plays in his hands from onwards. there is direct evidence that the blackfriars theatre was occupied even after by other companies. field's _amends for ladies_ was acted there by the prince's and the lady elizabeth's men; and charles could not be called prince till after the death of henry, th november . the production of field's play was probably in the spring . by careful comparison of the dry documents concerning shareholders in , with those of the blackfriars property in , we ascertain that j. burbadge bought that property th february ; that in november the establishment of a theatre there was petitioned against, but carried out soon after; that a lease of twenty-one years was granted to evans, either at christmas or lady day , most probably the latter; that at the end of thirteen years the burbadges bought the remaining eight years of the lease, probably at lady day , and took possession of the building;--but that they _at the same time_ took the boys into the king's company or set up hemings, shakespeare, &c., in the blackfriars is mere rhetoric of cuthbert's. underwood and ostler had both left the revels children before the performance of jonson's _epicene_ in , and field did not join the king's men till - . in june shakespeare purchased twenty acres of pasture land from the combes. at christmas the king's men performed fifteen plays at court. . in this year unusual efforts seem to have been made by the king's company to secure authors of repute to write for their playhouse. jonson's _catiline_ was acted by nearly the same cast as _the alchemist_, the only change being that robinson appears in the list instead of armin. the second _maiden's tragedy_ was produced in october, most likely written by tourneur, having been preceded by the first _maid's tragedy_ by beaumont and fletcher, who also in this year brought out their _philaster_ and _king and no king_: in all we have five new plays of the first rank, acted by a company that hitherto appears to have almost entirely depended on about two plays from shakespeare, and occasionally a third by some other hand, as sufficient novelty to attract a year's full houses. it is this _quasi_ monopoly in writing for his company that explains shakespeare's accumulation of property; and it is to me incredible that _macbeth_, _the winter's tale_, _cymbeline_, and _the tempest_ should all have been produced in this year. yet this seems to be the belief of practical critics who believe only what can be supported by what they term "positive evidence," the evidence in this case being that forman, the astrological charlatan, entered in his note-book that he had seen acted _cymbeline_, _macbeth_, th april [ ]; _richard ii._, th april ; _winter's tale_, may . this evidence has, however, value of another kind, for it shows that a large number of revivals took place in this year; indeed, coupling this with the fact that at this christmas and the next the unprecedented number of fifty plays were performed by the king's men at court, it is likely that _all_ shakespeare's plays were revived immediately after his retirement from the stage. we cannot trace fifty plays to the possession of his company at this date without including them. on september shakespeare's name occurs in the margin of a folio page of donors (including all the principal inhabitants of stratford) to a subscription list "towards the charge of prosecuting the bill in parliament for the better repair of the highways." this appears to confirm the view that shakespeare was at this time residing in stratford. on december the play of _lord cromwell_ was entered on s. r., and published as by w. s. the plays at court were twenty-two: on october ; november , ; december ; january , february , before the king; on november , ; december , ; january , ; february , , ; april , , before prince henry and charles, duke of york; on february , (_sic_), before the prince; on march , april , before the lady elizabeth. . on february the burial of gilbert shakespeare "adolescens" was entered in the stratford register. i agree with mr. french that this was most likely shakespeare's brother. in this year a suit was commenced "lane greene, and shakespeare compl^{ts.}" on the ground that they had to pay too large a proportion of the reserved rent of the tithes purchased in . it appears from the draft of the bill filed before lord ellesmere that shakespeare's income from this source was £ . the plays produced by the king's men were _the woman's prize_, _cardenno_ (_i.e._, _cardenes, or loves pilgrimage_), and _the captain_, by fletcher and his coadjutors, and the _duchess of malfi_ by webster, who also published _the white devil_, with the remarkable allusion to the "right happy and copious industry" of shakespeare, dekker, and heywood. curiously enough, this is often referred to even now as a eulogy on webster's part; it is really damning with faint praise the poet to whom he hoped to be the successor as provider of plays to the king's company. _the passionate pilgrim_ reached a third edition, and was reissued as "certain amorous sonnets between venus and adonis," by w. shakespeare; "whereunto is added two love epistles" between paris and helen. these were stolen from heywood's _troja britannica_ of . in his _apology for actors_ ( ), he complains of the injury done him, as it might lead to unjust suspicion of piracy on his part, and adds, "as i must acknowledge my lines not worthy his patronage under whom he hath published them, so the author i know much offended with m. jaggard that altogether unknown to him presumed to make so bold with his name." in consequence, no doubt, of this remonstrance, jaggard had to substitute a new title-page, from which shakespeare's name was entirely omitted. he had allowed his name to be used in the titles of _the london prodigal_ in , of _the yorkshire tragedy_ in , of _the passionate pilgrim_ of , and even of _sir john oldcastle_ in without murmuring; but directly the interests of another demand justice at his hands he takes prompt action, and compels the piratical publisher to withdraw his name altogether. the king's men at the christmas festivities, &c., presented at court fourteen plays before the king and fourteen before the prince, the lady elizabeth, and the prince palatine. among the plays so represented were _philaster_, _the knot of fools_, _much ado about nothing_, _the maid's tragedy_, _the merry devil of edmonton_, _the tempest_, _a king and no king_, _the twins' tragedy_, _the winter's tale_, _sir john falstaff_ (_the merry wives of windsor_), _the moor of venice_, _the nobleman_, _cesar's tragedy_, _love lies a bleeding_ (_philaster_ repeated), before the prince, lady elizabeth, and the palatine; _a bad beginning makes a good ending_ (? _all's well that ends well_; but entered s. r. as ford's, and destroyed in ms. by warburton's servant; ford's revision must, of course, have been later than ), _the captain_, _the alchemist_, _cardenno_, _the hotspur_ (_ henry iv._), _benedicte and betteris_ (_much ado about nothing_), before the king. see stanhope's accounts (halliwell, _outlines_, p. , third edition, and _revels accounts_, p. xxiii.) of these twenty shakespeare contributes nine, fletcher (with beaumont) six, jonson one, tourneur one, drayton (?) one, and two have not been identified. . on th february richard shakespeare, the poet's only surviving brother, was buried at stratford. on th march shakespeare purchased in blackfriars a house with yard and haberdasher's shop for £ , subject to a mortgage of £ . this property had greatly increased in value since , when it was sold for £ , probably in consequence of the immediate vicinity of the theatre, which drew large custom for feathers and other articles of attire to blackfriars. shakespeare leased it to john robinson, who had by this time seen the absurdity in a business point of view of his opposition to the establishment of the theatre in . one of the trustees for the legal estate (the mortgage remaining unredeemed till ) was john heming, unquestionably shakespeare's friend the actor. on th june the king's men played at court before the duke of savoy's ambassadors. on th june the globe theatre was burnt down, "while burbadge's company were acting the play of _henry viii._, and there shooting off certain chambers by way of triumph" (t. lorkin's letter). sir h. wotton says it was "a new play called _all is true_, representing some principal pieces of the reign of henry viii." it was of course shakespeare's play in its original form. a fool must have acted in it, for in the old ballad about this fire, "the reprobates prayed for the fool and henry condy" (condell), who were apparently the last actors who escaped. it has been conjectured that at this time shakespeare retired from the stage, having sold his shares in the globe and blackfriars in order to purchase the house above mentioned. there is no particle of evidence that he had not saved the £ then paid from his usual economies, or that if he had wished to sell his shares he could have done so. it is true that shares in the later globe (rebuilt - ) were so sold; but all the evidence as to the theatre in which shakespeare was concerned points the other way. it appears from the documents that hemings, shakespeare, &c., had their shares without paying any consideration, and that all the shares held by pope, kempe, bryan, shakespeare, sly, and cowley had reverted by into the hands of the surviving shareholders, the burbadges, hemings, and condell. if we examine the wills of these men, we find that pope indeed, in , leaves all his estate or interest in the globe, "which i have or ought to have," to mary clark and thomas bromley; but that phillips in , and cooke in , make no mention of any shares. it seems most likely that this will of pope's raised the question as to whether these shares were held during office as actor or absolutely. there can be little doubt that the former was the case, as is only reasonable where the shares, as in the first globe, were given "without consideration." purchased shares, like those in the latter globe, are in a different position. at any rate, the shares left to bromley and clark in fact reverted to the surviving shareholders. sly's will in , which is in similar terms to pope's, leaves his shares to robert brown, who, like clark and bromley, disappears from all future history of these shares. moreover, there is no mention of any shares belonging to cowley, beeston, or kempe: yet there can be no doubt that kempe was till a shareholder. on th july, in the ecclesiastical court at worcester, the case of dr. john hall _v._ john lane, for slandering his wife, was heard, and the defendant excommunicated on the th. there were sixteen plays performed at court by the king's men this year, on november , ; january ; february , , , ; and nine others. . fletcher, webster, and beaumont had all left the king's men, and now, st october, jonson leaves them too, and produces his _bartholomew fair_ at the hope, with abundant sneers at shakespeare's plays, especially the _tempest_ and _winter's tale_. he does not allude to _henry viii._ fletcher was now, as well as jonson, a writer for the princess elizabeth's players. in july john combe left shakespeare £ as a legacy. in the autumn an attempt was made by w. combe, the squire of welcombe, to inclose a large portion of the neighbouring common fields; this attempt was opposed by the corporation, but supported by mr. manwaring and shakespeare. the latter clearly acted simply with a view to his own personal interest. his name as an ancient freeholder occurs in a list, th september, as having claim for compensation if the inclosure took place. on th october, replingham, combe's agent, covenanted to give him full compensation for injury by "any inclosure or decay of tillage:" on th november he went to london: on th november his "cousin," t. greene, town clerk of stratford and at the same time his own solicitor, called to see him: he said the inclosures were to be less than had been represented, that nothing would be done till april, and that he and mr. hall thought nothing would be done at all. on d december letters to mr. manwaring and shakespeare were written, with "almost all the company's hands" to them, and a private letter in addition by greene to "my cousin," with copies of all the acts of the corporation, and notes of the inconveniences that would result from the inclosure. the inclosure was not made, and shakespeare did not get his compensation. . on th january the first draft of shakespeare's will was drawn up. on th february his daughter judith was married without a license to t. quiney, vintner of stratford; they were summoned in consequence to the ecclesiastical court of worcester a few weeks after. on th march the will was executed, and on th april "will. shakspere, gent." was entered in the burial register at stratford. he died just before completing his fifty-fourth year; but it is usually supposed on the d, his birthday. footnotes: [ ] a dor, dorne, or drone is the lazy male bee that makes no honey: hence doron, the dorne (pronounce dor´un). there was a myth that dors or drones were produced by mules, hence muli-dor (see minshew _drone_). but a drone is also the drone of a bagpipe, or the bagpipe itself, which was called chevrau (see cotgrave, _chevrau_) or cheveril: and _chevrau_ is kyd. it is evident from greene's tracts that doron was meant for the writer of _the taming of a shrew_, and mulidor for the same author--there cannot be a doubt of the identity of the characters. nash's address identifies _the taming of a shrew_ writer with kyd. [ ] these dates are so given by henslow: they should be june and june . [ ] simpson. but rather in _tamburlane_ v. : "hell and elysium swarm with ghosts of men," and similarly a few lines before "where shaking ghosts," &c. [ ] _henry v._ was transferred to t. pavier on th august. [ ] mr. halliwell (_outlines_, p. , d edition) says they performed four plays at whitehall, but quotes no authority. [ ] this performance was at southampton's house before queen anne. [ ] mr. halliwell (_outlines_, p. ) gives december as the date of this change. this is certainly not in accordance with other facts which i shall adduce in the following pages; he gives no authority for his statement. [ ] cuthbert burbadge in adds field by a slip of memory. section iv. the chronological succession of shakespeare's plays. it is of the greatest importance, in investigating the chronological succession of an author's works, that we should start from a definite and certain date. the neglect of this point, especially in so difficult an instance as the present, involves us too often in thorny discussions at the very onset. such an epoch is presented us at once by the publication of shakespeare's earliest poem. i begin therefore at this point. _venus and adonis_ was entered on s. r. th april by richard field, printer, son of henry field, tanner, of stratford-on-avon, who parted with his copyright to mr. harrison, senior, th june . there were editions in , (r. field); (r. field for j. harrison); and , _bis_ (w. leake); (w. barrett); and (j. parker). harrison had assigned his copyright to leake th june . it was transferred to w. barrett th february - ; and again to j. parker th march . this was "the first heir of my invention," which means--the first production in which i have had no co-labourer. compare ford's expression "the first-fruits of my leisure" applied to _'tis pity she's_ &c., although he had certainly at that time written plays in connection with dekker and others. _lucrece._ entered on th may in s. r. by mr. harrison, senior. editions (r. field for j. harrison); (p. s. for j. harrison); (j. h. for j. harrison); (n. o. for j. harrison); (t. g. for r. jackson). this poem is a pendant to the former; the one exhibiting woman's chastity, the other her lust. such opposition of subject in successive productions is very characteristic of shakespeare. _a lover's complaint_, published with the _sonnets_ , written probably - , between the _venus_ and _lucrece_. _sonnets_, entered on s. r. th may for t. thorpe. i have on pp. , already stated my opinion that these were written during - . _titus andronicus_ was a new play in , acted for the first time by sussex' men at the rose on d january. _richard iii._ was no doubt acted this same year by the chamberlain's men; just before the old play which had been acted by the queen's players was published (s. r. th june ). a _richard_ is alluded to in john weever's _epigrams_, published , when the author was twenty-three, but written when he was not twenty; they must therefore date at latest in (not as usually stated). weever mentions _venus and adonis_, _lucrece_, _romeo_, and _richard_ as the issue of honey-tongued shakespeare. we shall see that _romeo_, as referred to here, was acted in - , and i believe the _richard_ referred to is the _richard ii._ of . _edward iii._ i have shown in p. to be an alteration of an old play of marlowe's written in , revived in about the autumn, after _lucrece_ was published. it will be most convenient to defer the consideration of authorship of the preceding plays till i have to treat of _henry vi._; the dates of editions of all the plays will be exhibited in tabular form further on, which will save much repetition and interruption of argument. we now come to an unquestionable date; and it is from this, the first recorded date in connection with an undoubted play, that i wish the reader to regard our investigation of play dates as beginning. . december . shakespeare's only farcical comedy of _errors_ was acted at gray's inn at night: the same players had acted before the queen at greenwich on that day, very likely in the same comedy. in april the english agent in edinburgh wrote to burghley, how ill king james took it that the comedians in london should scorn the king and people of scotland in their plays. the barrenness of scotland is mentioned in iii. . neither would james approve of a play in which witchcraft and exorcising is so constantly ridiculed. the opening scene is very like in method to that of _midsummer-night's dream_; and the reiterated allusions by either dromio to being transformed to an ass (ii. . ; iii. . ; iv. . ; iii. . ) remind us so strongly of that play as almost to infer contemporaneity of production; especially as in iii. . the same quibble, an _ass_ and _ace_, occurs as in _midsummer-night's dream_, v. . . now in , in his _pierce's supererogation_, and in in his _four letters_, gabriel harvey had rung the changes on _an ass_ and _a nash_ even to wearisomeness; just as shakespeare in this play puns on _an ell_ and _a nell_ (iii. . ). this may seem very forced; but i must remind the reader, that _s_ and _sh_ were not distinguished in pronunciation except by pedants at the end of the sixteenth century. it seems then most likely that in dwelling on this transformation, shakespeare meant to recall to his audience the dyslogistic name inflicted on his old enemy nash by gabriel harvey. all this points to a production of the play in , by the chamberlain's men; but there are also indications of its having been altered from an earlier version. in the stage directions there are traces of the name juliana[ ] for luciana: in the text dowsabel occurs instead of nell, and in v. , the prefix _fat._ (father) has been clearly replaced by _mar._ (merchant) in a revision; note especially v. . , where both prefixes have by a common printer's error been inserted at once. the older form, again, had antipholus sereptus for a. of syracuse, and erotes or erratis for a. of ephesus; and it had twenty-five years of separation between the parents for thirty-three in the later version. this last difference occurs in i. , which is throughout written in a more mechanical and antique style of metre than the rest of the play; and indeed seems to be one of the earliest specimens left us of shakespeare's attempts to bombast out a blank verse. there is also the name menaphon (v. . ), which is likely to have been adopted from greene's _menaphon_ ( ), who again took it from marlowe's _tamberlaine_ ( - ). the adam "that goes in the calf-skin," surely alludes to the adam in the _looking-glass for london_ ( ), whose "calf-skin jests" were even after seven years an object of ridicule to the playwrights. for all these reasons i believe that a version of this play was acted c. , perhaps in the winter of that year. it does not follow that that version was entirely by shakespeare, as the present play is; he may have replaced a coadjutor's work of by his own of . the plot, with its time-unity, is not likely to be of his arranging. as to the pun on the war made by france against her heir (iii. . ), which is usually relied on for the date of production, it merely gives as limits august , when the war of succession began, and th february , when henri iv. was crowned. it does, however, enable us to say positively that the first performance of the play was before the formation of the chamberlain's company, who only revived it, no doubt in an amended shape, on th december , most likely for the sake of the court performance. the original plot was probably suggested by plautus' _menæchmi_ and _amphitryo_; and perhaps more directly by the _history of error_ performed by the chapel children in , which, by the bye, has nothing to do with the _ferrar_ of the earl of sussex' men in . but we cannot assume in these early plays that shakespeare was the plotter. it is certain, however, that he did afterwards adopt the likeness of twins in _twelfth night_ as a means of introducing "errors" on the stage. . january was the date of the marriage of william stanley, earl of derby, at greenwich. such events were usually celebrated with the accompaniment of plays or interludes, masques written specially for the occasion not having yet become fashionable. the company of players employed at these nuptials would certainly be the chamberlain's, who had, so lately as the year before, been in the employ of the earl's brother ferdinand. no play known to us is so fit for the purpose as _midsummer-night's dream_, which in its present form is certainly of this date. about the same time edward russel, earl of bedford, married lucy harrington. both marriages may have been enlivened by this performance. this is rendered more probable by the identity of the oberon story with that of drayton's _nymphidia_, whose special patroness at this time was the newly married countess of bedford. that poem contains an allusion to don quixote, which could not well have been written till , and certainly not till ; but drayton is known to have constantly altered his poems by way of addition and omission, and no date of original production can in his case be fixed by allusions of this kind. the date of the play here given is again confirmed by the description of the weather in ii. . in , and in that year only, is there on record such an inversion of the seasons as is there spoken of. chute's _cephalus and procris_ was entered on s. r., th september ; marlowe's _hero and leander_, d october ; marlowe and nash's _dido_ was printed in . all these stories are alluded to in the play. the date of the court performance must be in the winter of - . but the traces of the play having been altered from a version for the stage are numerous. there is a double ending. robin's final speech is palpably a stage epilogue, while what precedes from "_enter puck_" to "break of day--_exeunt_" is very appropriate for a marriage entertainment, but scarcely suited to the stage. in acts iv. and v., again, we find in the speech-prefixes _duke_, _duchess_, _clown_ for _theseus_, _hippolita_, _bottom_: such variations are nearly always marks of alteration, the unnamed characters being anterior in date. in the prose scenes speeches are several times assigned to wrong speakers, another common mark of alteration. in the fairies the character of moth (mote) has been excised in the text, though he still remains among the _dramatis personæ_. it is not, i think, possible to say which parts of the play were added for the court performance; but a careful examination has convinced me that wherever _robin_ occurs in the stage-directions or speech-prefixes scarcely any, if any, alteration has been made; _puck_, on the contrary, indicates change. the date of the stage play may, i think, be put in the winter of ; and if so it was acted, not at the rose, but where lord strange's company were travelling. for the allusion in v. . , "the thrice three muses mourning for the death of learning, late deceased in beggary," to spenser's _tears of the muses_ ( ), or greene's death, d september , could not, in either interpretation, be much later than the autumn of ; and the lines in ii. . -- "i am a spirit of no common rate; the summer still doth tend upon my state, and i do love thee"-- are so closely like those in nash's _summer's last will_, where summer says-- "died i had indeed unto the earth, but that eliza, england's beauteous queen, _on whom all seasons prosperously attend_, forbad the execution of my fate until her joyful progress was expired"-- that i think they are alluded to by shakespeare. the singularly fine summer of is attributed to the influence of elizabeth, the fairy queen. nash's play was performed at the archbishop's palace at croydon in michaelmas term of the same year by a "number of hammer-handed clowns (for so it pleaseth them in modesty to name themselves);" but i believe the company originally satirised in shakespeare's play was the earl of sussex', bottom, the chief clown, being intended for robert greene. thus much for date of production. for the title of the play, compare the conclusion of _the taming of a shrew_ and peele's _old wife's tale_, the latter of which is performed in a dream, and the former is supposed by sly to be so; the interpretation that it means a play performed at midsummer is quite inconsistent with iv. . , &c., and other passages. the names of the personages are interesting, because they show us what books shakespeare was reading at this time: from north's _plutarch_, life of theseus, the first in the book, he got periginia (perigouna), aegles, ariadne, antiope, and hippolita; from chaucer's _knight's tale_, also the first in the printed editions, which he afterwards dramatised, philostrate; from greene's _james iv._ oberon. this last name, with titania's, also occurs in the queen's _entertainment_ at lord hertford's, . the time-analysis of this play has probably been disturbed by omissions in producing the court version. i. . - ought to form, and probably did, in the original play, a separate scene; it certainly does not take place in the palace. to the same cause must be attributed the confusion as to the moon's age; cf. i. . with the opening lines: the new moon was an afterthought, and evidently derived from a form of the story in which the first day of the month and the new moon were coincident after the greek time-reckoning. it is worth notice that not only is the title of preston's _cambyses_ parodied in the pyramus interlude, but his pension of sixpence a day is ridiculed in iv. . nor must we quite pass over the fact, which confirms the date, that on th august , at the baptism of prince henry (of scotland), the tame lion which was to have been brought in in the triumph was replaced by a moor, "because his presence might have brought some fear." the play is nearly as much an error play (iii. . ) as the _errors_ itself, and, like it, has no known immediate source for the plot. the pyramus interlude is clearly based on c. robinson's _handfull of pleasant delights_ ( ); and some of the fairy story may have been suggested by montemayor's _diana_. the line ii. . , is from peele's _edward i._ (near end), "how nature strove in them to show her art," and i think the man who dares not come in the moon because it is in snuff may allude to the offence given at court by lyly's _endymion_ in . an absolute downward limit of date is given by a line imitated in _doctor doddypol_, a play alluded to in by nash, and spoiled in the imitation-- "hanging on every leaf an orient pearl, which shook together by the silken wind of their loose mantles made a silver chime." this solidification of the dewdrops does not occur in the shakespeare parallel, ii. . . mr. halliwell's fancy that spenser's line in _fairy queen_, vi.--"through hills and dales, through bushes and through briers" must have been imitated by shakespeare in ii. . , is very flimsy; hill and dale, bush and brier, are commonplaces of the time. nor is there any proof that this song could not have been transmitted to ireland in or . . _richard ii._ cannot be definitely dated by external evidence, but all competent critics agree that it is the earliest of shakespeare's historical plays; the question of authorship, &c., of _richard iii._ being reserved for the present. it is a tragedy like marlowe's _edward ii._, not a "life and death" history. the _civil wars_ of daniel, from which shakespeare seems to have derived a few hints, was entered on s. r. th october . the play probably was produced after this date, and before the publication of the pope's bull in , inciting the queen's subjects to depose her. in consequence of this bull the abdication scene was omitted in representation, and in the editions during elizabeth's lifetime. in like manner, hayward was imprisoned for publishing in his _history of the first year of henry iv._, which is simply the story of richard's abdication. the omitted scene was restored in under james i. as "new additions." such _new_ additions on title-pages are often restorations of omitted passages. the folio copy omits a few other speeches, the play having been evidently found too long in representation; but it contains the abdication scene. this being the first play of shakespeare's that passed the press was carelessly corrected, whence much apparently unshakespearian and halting metre, which is easily set right. the source of the plot is holinshed's _chronicle_; "the earlier play on _richard ii._ lately printed" (says mr. stokes in ) "i have not seen; but it concludes with the murder of the duke of gloster." the play seen at the globe by forman in began with the rebellion of wat tyler. it was not shakespeare's. there is no prose in this play, in _john_, or the _comedy of errors_; a sign of early work. . _the two gentlemen of verona_ is a striking instance of the difficulties in which we are involved if we attempt to assign a single date for the production of every play, and neglect the fact that alterations were and are continually made by authors in their works. drake and chalmers date this play in ; gervinus, delius, and stokes . malone at different times adopted both dates. i believe that all these opinions are reconcilable, that the play was produced in , with work by a second hand in it, which was cut out and replaced by shakespeare's own in . for a date after is distinctly indicated in the play as we have it by the allusions to _hero and leander_ in i. . , iii. . ; and to the pestilence in ii. . ; a still closer approximation is shown to the _merchant of venice_, by the mistake of padua for milan in ii. . . if shakespeare had not, at the time when he finally produced the _two gentlemen_, begun his study for the venetian story, whence this name? it only occurs there, once in _much ado_, and in the non-shakespearian parts of _the taming of the shrew_. in like manner the mistake of verona for milan in iii. . , v. . , indicates that he had been preparing _romeo and juliet_. that our play lies between the _errors_ and the _dream_ on one hand and _the merchant_ on the other, becomes pretty clear by comparing the development of character in the dromios, launce and speed, lancelot gobbo; in lucetta and nerissa; in demetrius and lysander, valentine and proteus. nor are marks of the twofold date wanting. in the first two acts we find valentine at the emperor's court, no duke mentioned; in the last three at the duke's, no emperor mentioned. the turning-point is in ii. , where, though "emperor" occurs in the text, "duke" is used in the stage directions. in i. . , "if haply won perhaps a hapless gain; if lost, why then a grievous labour won," there is surely an allusion to _love's labour's won_, and _love's labour's lost_; we shall see hereafter that in these were quite recent plays. the eglamour of verona mentioned in i. . is not the eglamour of milan who appears in iv. , v. . style and metre require an early date for i. ii. - and parts of iii. ; but in any argument of an internal nature, johnson's weighty remark should be remembered--"from _mere_ inequality, in works of imagination, nothing can with exactness be inferred." the immediate origin of the plot is unknown; parts of the story are identical with those of _the shepherdess filismena_ in montemayor's _diana_, translated in ms. by young, c. , and of bandello's _apollonius and sylla_ in rich's _farewell to military profession_ ( ). _felix and philiomena_ had been dramatised and acted at court by the queen's players, - . that the revision of _the two gentlemen_ was hurriedly performed is clear from the unusually large number of _exits_ and _entrances_ that are not marked. this hurry accounts, in some degree, for the weakness of the play, which induces so many critics to insist on an early date for it as a whole. yet the special blemish they discover, v. . , the yielding up of silvia by valentine, is paralleled in the _dream_, where (iii. . ) lysander says, "with all my heart, in hermia's love i yield you up my part:" and that shakespeare felt the unreality of this part of the plot is clear from _two gentlemen_, v. . , which to me seems a manifest reminiscence of his last play, "how like a dream is this i see and hear!" (cf. _midsummer-night's dream_, iv. . , "it seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream"). he had been reading chaucer, as we know, and from him had adopted this method of presenting stories in a dream. a slighter reminiscence of chaucer's _knight's tale_ occurs in the mention of theseus, iv. . . - . _romeo and juliet_ was surreptitiously printed by j. danter in ; "as it hath been often with great applause played (publicly), by the rt. hon. the l. of hunsdon, his servants." this edition must have been printed in (old reckoning), for the players would have been called the chamberlain's servants except during the tenure of that office by w. brooke, lord cobham, from d july to th march . that it was on the stage as well as _richard ii._ in - , appears from weever's _epigrams_. a correct edition of _romeo_ appeared in . the relation of these two versions of the play presents a difficult problem. the quarto q_{ } is unquestionably the play of - , as acted by the then chamberlain's players at the theater; for it does not follow, as mr. halliwell supposes, that because they continued to act it when called lord hunsdon's players, they had not ever acted it before. such reasoning would compel us to assign all plays published as "acted by the king's players" to a date subsequent to --_hamlet_, for example, and _troylus and cressida_. nor does it follow that because it was acted at the curtain, where marston mentions it in his _scourge of villany_ (s. r. th september ), that it was _produced_ at that same theatre. mr. p.a. daniel has shown, in his parallel text edition, that the quarto q_{ } is a shortened version of the play, no doubt for stage purposes (compare the quartos in i. ; i. ; iii. ). he has also with great ingenuity conclusively proved that q_{ } is a revised copy made on a text in many places identical with q_{ } (see i. . ; i. . ; ii. . - ; iii. . ; iii. . - ; iii. . - ; iv. . - , ; v. . , ). but his conclusion that q_{ } is partly made up from notes taken during the performance, is not borne out by any evidence. there are no "mistakes of the ear" in this play, nor is this conclusion consistent with his own theory that q_{ } was a revision made on the text of q_{ }. i owe what i believe to be the real solution to a hint from my son, a boy of thirteen. when a play was written and licensed, at least three copies would be made of it. one, with the master of the revels' endorsement (which i will call r), would be kept in the archives of the theatre intact; one would be made for the manager (m), which would have occasional notes of stage direction, &c., inserted; and one, an acting copy, for the prompter (p), usually much abridged from the original and always altered: this would contain stage directions, &c., in full, but in the unaltered passages would be identical with m. now q_{ } shows evident signs of being printed from a shortened copy p; q_{ } is manifestly a revision of a full copy m. the genealogy of the quartos then stands thus:-- r (_author's first version_). | +---+---+ | | p m | | q_{ } q_{ } q_{ } is, according to this theory, a revised version made on a _complete_ copy of an early version of the play, while q_{ } is printed from the prompter's copy of the same early version. when the revision took place this copy would be thrown aside as worthless; and any dishonest _employé_ of the theatre could sell it to an equally dishonest publisher, who would publish it as the play now acted. if this solution be correct, and it is the only one yet proposed that meets all the difficulties of the case, q_{ } is specially interesting as being the earliest extant play (as acted) in which shakespeare had a share. for it is clear that some passages in it, especially ii. , the laments in iv. , and paris' dirge in v. , are not only unlike the corresponding passages in q_{ }, but unlike anything we have from shakespeare's hand. the date of the early form of the play was , eleven years after the earthquake of (i. . , ). as confirmatory of the conclusion that q_{ } was revised from an early play note that in i. the servants are nameless in q_{ }, but have names in the stage directions in q_{ }; that in . the servant is called clown in q_{ }; that in iii. in q_{ }, where the prefixes vary between _lady_ and _mother_, it is in the unaltered parts that _mother_ is used as in q_{ }, but _lady_ always where enough alteration has taken place to require a completely fresh transcript; that in v. there is a double entry marked for the capulets (a sure sign); that in ii. . - , v. . - , duplicate versions occur. on the other hand, the printing of the nurse's speeches in italics in both quartos is conclusive for identity of origin in that scene. other points worth noting are that "queen mab, what's she?" i. . in q_{ } are omitted in q_{ }: mab had become well known in , probably through drayton's _nymphidia_. in ii. . , "i am afraid all this is but a dream," reminds us of similar passages in _errors_, ii. . ; _two gentlemen_, v. . ; and _dream_, iv. . , &c. w. kempe acted the part of peter (see entry in iv. ); balthazar is proparoxyton in v. . the line in iii. , , "o serpent heart hid with a flowering face" (where q_{ } has "serpent's hate"), is very like the often-quoted "o tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide" (_ henry vi._ i. . ). the play is founded on arthur brooke's poem, _the tragical history of romeus and juliet, containing a rare example of true constancy_. constancy in love is its main subject. he took the italian form of the name romeo, and the time of juliet's sleep forty-two hours ("forty at least" in the novel) from _rhomeo and julietta_ in painter's _palace of pleasure_. much unnecessary writing has been expended on this forty-two hours; the plot requires forty-eight. daniel, in his _rosamund_ (s. r. february - ), and the author of _doctor doddypol_ (c. october ), have passages very like some in this play. a ballad founded on the play was entered s. r. th august . on the mention of "the first and second cause" in ii. . and (in q_{ } only) in iii. , some critics base the conclusion that this play must be subsequent to saviolo's _book of honour_, &c. (s. r. th november ). i believe that the book referred to is _the book of honor and arms, wherein is discussed the_ causes _of quarrel_,&c. (s. r. th december ). the same expression occurs in _love's labour's lost_, i. . ; in any case it probably belongs to the revised version of this last named play. the alteration in ii. from "to-morrow morning" to "this afternoon," shows that in the revision shakespeare attended to details in the time of action. . _king john_ was founded on the old play acted by the queen's men, called _the troublesome reign of king john_. the lines ii. . - are imitated in _captain stukeley_ by dekker and others, acted at the rose, th december ; iii. . - refer manifestly to the pope's bull in , inciting the english to depose elizabeth; chatillon's speech ii. . - is most applicable to the great fleet sent against spain in the same year; constance's lamentations have been reasonably referred to the death of hamnet shakespeare (buried th august); the _iron age_ is alluded to in iv. . , and never elsewhere in shakespeare. now, heywood's play of that name was on the stage from june to july under the title of _troy_. the summer of is thus undoubtedly the date of shakespeare's play. there are some indications of the play having been shortened; act ii. in the folio has only seventy-four lines, and essex has a part of only three lines, although in the older _john_ he appears in five scenes. i think he was meant to be entirely cut out c. after essex' execution, and these three lines should be given to salisbury. the rival play of _stukeley_ was shortened in the same way; a whole act was expunged before its publication in . in i. (folio) the citizen on the walls is called hubert; this indicates that the same actor represented both characters. - . _the merchant of venice_, or _jew of venice_, was no doubt founded on an old play called _the jew of venice_, by dekker. it seems, from the title of the german version of this play, that the jew's name was joseph. the name fauconbridge in i. (where portia's suitors are enumerated, compare _two gentlemen_, i. ) points to a date soon after _john_; and the "merry devil" of ii. . , a phrase never elsewhere used in shakespeare, indicates contemporaneity with _the merry devil of edmonton_ produced in the winter of . again, the manifest imitations of this play in _wily beguiled_, which i show elsewhere to date in the summer of , give a posterior limit, which must be decisive. this play has no sign whatever of having been altered; the clarendon press guesses, founded on the discrepancy of the number of suitors (iv. for vi.) are as worthless as mr. hales' proof, referred to by mr. halliwell (_outlines_, p. ), of the date of _wily beguiled_. the conclusive evidence of imitation in this play is the conjunction of the "in such a night" lines in scene , with the "my money, my daughter" iterations of gripe in scene of the same play. on d july , j. roberts entered _the merchant or jew of venice_ on s. r., but had to get the lord chamberlain's license before printing. on th october , he consented to the entry of the play for t. hayes; nevertheless, he issued copies of his own imprint independently. . _the first part of henry iv._ was entered on s. r. th february ; a genuine and authorised imprint. the publication of this play was hurried in order to refute the charge of attacking the cobham family in the person of sir john oldcastle, the original name of the character afterwards called falstaff (cf. "my old lad of the castle," i. . ). moreover, in i. . , we find in the text the names harvey and russel instead of peto and bardolph. the name russel for bardolph again occurs in a stage direction in _ henry iv._ ii. . these were evidently originally the names of the characters, and were changed at the same time as that of oldcastle: russel was the family name of the bedford earls, and harvey that of the third husband of lord southampton's mother. the new names were picked up from the second part; in which lord bardolph and peto (a distinct personage from the "humourist" of part i.) were serious characters. the play was produced in the spring; the only mentions of june in shakespeare's plays are in ii. . (_sun_ f.); iii. . ; and _anthony_, iii. . . in ii. . , preston's _cambyses_ is ridiculed (cf. _dream_). there is an imitation of iii. . in _lust's dominion_ (the _spanish moor's tragedy_, by dekker, haughton, and day, february , absurdly quoted by stokes as marlowe's). for the "abuses of the time" i. . ; iv. . ; see under _sir t. more_, . this play, as well as _ henry iv._ and _henry v._, is founded on _the famous victories of henry v._, an old play produced by the queen's company; from which the name oldcastle was taken. - . _the second part of henry iv._ was entered on s. r. d august . this quarto is much abridged in i. , ii. , iv. , iv. , and a whole scene, iii. , is omitted. it abounds in oaths apparently foisted in by the players, and is apparently printed from a prompter's copy. the omissions arise, i think, from expurgations made by the master of the revels. plays in which rebellion was the subject were especially disagreeable at court. in the epilogue there is evidence of alteration, the words "if my tongue ... good-night," having been inserted after the first production of the play, as is clear from their succeeding in q. the clause about praying for the queen, which must have been final in either version. the newly inserted words contain the allusion to oldcastle, and show that in this play, as well as the former, that was the original appellation of falstaff. this is confirmed by the appearance of _old._ in a speech prefix in i. . ; and russel in a stage direction in ii. . mr. halliwell's notion that russel and harvey were names of actors, has not the slightest foundation, nor are such actors known. note also that in iii. . , falstaff is mentioned as having been page to the duke of norfolk, which was historically true of oldcastle (compare the "serving the good duke of norfolk" in _the merry devil_. the date of that play is .) the early part i. , or. ii. , was written before the entry of _ henry iv._ on s. r., th february , in which falstaff is mentioned. "sincklo" occurs in a stage direction in v. ; he is not known in connection with shakespeare's company till this play was acted; he was previously a member of pembroke's troop, and acted in _ henry vi._ when it belonged to them along with humfrey [jeffes], and gabriel [singer]. these two last named, and others, joined the admiral's company at the rose in october , when pembroke's men broke and went into the country. sinkler, beeston, duke, and pallant, stayed with the chamberlain's men from c. till they left the curtain in , and then kemp, duke, beeston, and pallant set up a new company under the patronage of the earl of derby. not one of these can be shown to have acted for the chamberlain's, except between these dates, and that they left in discontent is probable from their being all omitted in the list of the folio. sinkler remained in shakespeare's company till . pistol, in his first appearance in ii. , does not for a while talk in iambics. mrs. quickly (i. . ) appears to be called ursula (nell in _henry v._) for the changes in the names of this and other characters in the series of falstaff plays, see hereafter in the table given on p. . . _love's labour's lost_ was published in , "as it was presented before her highness this last christmas." this was undoubtedly the earliest of shakespeare's plays that has come down to us, and was only retouched somewhat hurriedly for this court performance. the date of original production cannot well be put later than . the characters are in several instances confused. in ii. boyet occurs in place of berowne in the prefixes, and rosaline for katharine in the text. in iv. , and v. , there is still greater muddling of holofernes and nathaniel; now one, now the other appears, first as curate, then as pedant; in iv. , berowne is called "one of the strange queen's lords," and _queen_ for _princess_ occurs in the prefixes through the greater part of the play. it is pretty clear that this lady ambassador was in the play called queen. in ii. , the lines - were almost certainly added in . they begin with a prefix _prin._ inserted in the middle of one of the queen's (princess's) speeches; and in them only throughout the play is the prefix _nav._ (navarre) used for _king_. in iv. , the speech of berowne (l. - ) must be mostly assigned to ; the repetition of the lines, "from women's eyes ... promethean fire" is an unmistakable indication of revision (see the similar instances in _romeo_). a like instance of substitution of a long version for a short one, occurs in v. . - , which are manifestly the substitute for v. . - ; again, v. . - could not have conveyed any amusement in the conceit of "ajax" till after the publication of harrington's _metamorphosis of ajax_ in . the mention of "first and second cause," &c., in i. . - , may imply that this was another of the additions. but it is in iv. that the greatest changes have been made. it is clear from v. . , that sir holofernes was originally the curate. modern editors either omit holofernes or substitute nathaniel; sir holofernes is also the curate in iv. . - --"this is a gift ... colorable colours." in the rest of this scene sir nathaniel is the curate, and master holofernes the pedant. this latter is the version. i am not aware that this singular change of character has been noted, or any reason assigned for it, except my conjecture, that it was intended to disguise a personal satire which, however pertinent in , had become obsolete in . for a full discussion of all these changes made in , see my article on _shakespeare and puritanism_ in _anglia_, vol. . - . _much ado about nothing_ is more likely than any other play to be identical with _love's labour's won_. the internal evidence has been set forth by mr. brae; but there are points of external evidence also, that have been overlooked. it is very frequent, in old plays, to find days of the week and month mentioned; and when this is the case, they nearly always correspond to the almanac of the year in which the play was written. now, in this play alone in shakespeare is there such a mark of time; comparing i. . , and ii. . , we find that the th july came on a monday; this suits the years and , but none between; an indication that the original play was written in . unlike _love's labour's lost_, it was almost recomposed at its reproduction, and this day-of-the-week mention is, i think, a relic of the original plot, and probably due, not to shakespeare, but to some coadjutor. again, meres' list in his _palladis tamia_ consists of the following plays:--_gentlemen of verona_ ( ), _errors_ ( ), _love's labour's lost_ ( ), _love's labour's won_ (?), _midsummer-night's dream_ ( - ), _merchant of venice_ ( - ), _richard ii._ ( ), _richard iii._ ( ), _henry iv._ ( ), _king john_ ( ), _titus andronicus_ ( ), _romeo and juliet_ ( - ). the dates i have appended to these may in some instance be slightly erroneous; but i think no one will deny that the plays mentioned by meres must have constituted the shakespeare repertoire of the chamberlain's men, and have been played by them between the dates of their constitution as a company in , and the publication of meres' book in . but there is absolutely no other comedy of shakespeare's that can be assigned to such a date. _all's well that ends well_ was certainly not played by his company so early. again, cowley and kempe played the constables in this play; but kempe had left the company by the summer of . there is no argument against this conclusion yet produced. the main subject of the play had been dramatised before in _ariodante and geneuora_, acted at court by the merchant tailors' boys in - . the old german play of jacob ayrer, _the beautiful phoenicia_ (c. , cohn) also contains points of similarity with shakespeare's play that are not found in the bandello novel which belleforest translated in . pedro and leonato are the only names which shakespeare retains from the novel; which ayrer follows in this respect. when the title was altered is doubtful: the play was known as _benedick and beatrice_ in . . _henry v._ was acted, with the choruses as we have them in the folio, between th april and th september, while essex was in ireland; see chorus to act v. that this was the final revision of the play, i am by no means convinced. the scene with the scotch and irish captains, iii. . to end, i take to be an insertion for the court performance, christmas , to please king james, who had been so annoyed that year by depreciation of the scots on the stage. that the quarto copy is printed from an abridged version made for acting purposes, is palpable. by omitting i. , and substituting one bishop for two in i. (two being retained in the stage direction) ely is disposed of; by simple omission and transference of a speech in iv. to warwick, westmoreland disappears; in a similar way bedford gives place to clarence; in iv. . salisbury is replaced by gloster, and was evidently meant to be in l. - of the same scene; in iv. erpingham remains in the stage direction, but has been cut out in the text. that the version from which the quarto was abridged was the copy, is a separate question to which i am inclined to say no. i rather hold that it was an earlier one without choruses, and following the chronicle historians much more closely. i cannot otherwise account for the substitution of gebon for rambures in iii. , and iv. ; and of bourbon for britany in iii. , and for dolphin in iii. , iv. . mr. daniel's theory is that the quarto was later than the folio version, that is to say, that shakespeare wrote a play historically incorrect, that his errors were corrected in a stage version before , _i.e._, while he was still himself an actor; that the errors were afterwards restored, and have kept the stage ever since. i cannot think this. i believe that the quarto is (as we have seen in other instances) a shortened version of a play written early in for the curtain theatre, and that the folio (except such alterations as were made after james's accession) is a version enlarged and improved for the globe theatre later in the same year. with regard to this series of falstaff plays, the following table may be of interest. names of "irregular humourists" in-- | _ hen. iv._ | _ hen. iv._ | _ hen. iv._ | _famous | (original | (altered | (i. to ii. | victories._ | version). | version). | altered). | ------------+--------------+--------------+----------------+ gadshill. | gadshill. | gadshill. | | ned. | ned poins. | poins. | poins. | tom. | harvey. | peto. | peto. | | russell. | bardolph. | bardolph. | oldcastle. | oldcastle. | falstaff. | falstaff. | | ? hostess. | quickly. | quickly. | ------------+--------------+--------------+----------------+ | _ hen. iv._ | _famous | (ii. to end | _hen. v._ | victories._ | unaltered). | (both versions). | _merry wives._ ------------+---------------+------------------+--------------+ gadshill. | | | ned. | | | tom. | | | | bardolph. | bardolph. | bardolph. oldcastle. | falstaff. | f. in text. | falstaff. | quickly. | quickly. | quickly. | doll. | doll. | | pistol. | pistol. | pistol. | | nym. | nym. | shallow. | | shallow. ------------+---------------+------------------+--------------+ according to my hypothesis, the original names oldcastle, ned poins, gadshill, &c., were chiefly taken from _the famous victories of henry v._; all these disappear from the series by ii. of _ henry iv._: the later names, bardolph, falstaff, nym, pistol, shallow, persist to the end of the series, but did not occur in the original forms of _ _ and _ henry iv._ the name falstaff was no doubt taken from _ henry vi._, in which shakespeare had been writing on march , and which we know from the epilogue to _henry v._ to have been revived by at latest. . _as you like it_ was "stayed" on the th august , and was written after "diana in the fountain" (iv. . ) was set up in cheapside in (stow). in iii. . a line is quoted from _hero and leander_, published in ; the only instance in which shakespeare directly refers to a contemporary poet. the date may, i think, be still more exactly fixed from i. . , "the little wit that fools have was silenced," which alludes probably to the burning of satirical books by public authority st june . every indication points to the latter part of as the date of production. this play is a rival to the _robin hood_ plays acted at the rose in ; jaques, "the traveller," seems to have been the origin of jonson's amorphus in _cynthia's revels_, and touchstone of cos the whetstone in the same play; compare i. . . the female characters differed considerably in height, as in _much ado_ and _the dream_. the remarks of touchstone on quarrels and lies in v. should be compared with _love's labour's lost_, i. to end; _romeo and juliet_, ii. . , &c. the comparison of the world to a stage in ii. suggests a date subsequent to the building of the globe, with its motto of _totus mundus agit histrionem_; and the introduction of a fool proper, in place of a comic clown such as is found in all the anterior comedies, confirms this: the "fools" only occur in plays subsequent to kempe's leaving the company. the title is taken from lodge's address prefixed to his _rosalynde_, on which the play is founded--"if you like it, so," says lodge--and it is alluded to in the epilogue (which, like that to _ henry iv._, is spoken by a female character), and again by jonson in the epilogue to _cynthia's revels_, which play has much more connection with the present than is usually supposed. there is a tradition that shakespeare took the part of adam. . _the merry wives of windsor_, as we have it in the folio, was probably made for the court performance in february ; in i. , the "king's english" does not imply that james, not elizabeth, was on the throne; but that the time of action is under a king, henry iv. it was written after _henry v._; perhaps, according to the old tradition, in obedience to the queen's command, who wished to see falstaff in love, shakespeare not having fulfilled his promise in the epilogue to _ henry iv._ to introduce him in the _henry v._ play; a failure probably caused by the defection at this date of the actor who had taken this part--kempe, beeston, duke, and pallant having quitted the king's men between the production of _ henry iv._ and that of this play. the title, _the merry wives of windsor_, suggests approximation in subject with _the merry devil of edmonton_ ( ), and so does the great likeness in the characteristics in the hosts of these plays; while the plot of the anne page story is identical with that of _wily beguiled_ ( ), fenton corresponding to sophos, caius to churms, simple to plodall, evans to r. goodfellow. it appears from the quarto edition that ford's assumed name was originally brook, not broome. this was probably altered because brook was the name of the lord cobham, who took offence at the production of oldcastle on the stage. the song of marlowe's sung by evans in iii. was published as shakespeare's in the _passionate pilgrim_ in ; not necessarily by any means in consequence of its previous introduction in this play. mr. p. a. daniel has rightly pointed out that iii. is really composed of two scenes, one between falstaff and quickly, the other between falstaff and ford; and that the latter ought to begin the fourth act: he has also shown that in various places the folio has inconsistencies not explicable without the aid of the quarto. but all this does not prove any "degradation" of the play at "managerial" hands; it rather indicates hurried and careless production, such as we might expect in a play ordered to be produced in a fortnight, according to the old tradition. another internal proof of such hurry, both in this play and in _much ado about nothing_, lies in the fact that they are almost entirely in prose; which is not the case in any other play by shakespeare. and this brings us to the question of the nature of the quarto version. it has been held to be merely a first sketch of the play: this theory is untenable. mr. p. a. daniel holds it to be a stolen version made up by a literary hack from shorthand notes obtained at a representation. this hypothesis gives no explanation of the "cousin-garmombles" of iii. , nor does it enable us to understand how no better a representation of the play was issued, nor how whole scenes (that of the fairies for example) appear in quite a different version from the folio. my own opinion is that the case is parallel to that of _romeo and juliet_; that the quarto is printed from a partly revised prompter's copy of the older version of the play, which became useless when shakespeare had made his final version. i believe also that this older version was produced soon after the visit of the count of mümplegart (garmombles) to windsor in august ; that it was probably the _jealous comedy_, acted as a new play by shakespeare's company th january ; that when shakespeare revived this old play, he accommodated the characters to _henry iv._ as best he could. mr. daniel's argument that _the merry wives_ was a later play than _henry v._, because nym would otherwise have had no title to special mention in the title-page of the quarto, has not much weight. this quarto was printed three years after _henry v._ was produced, and nym's reputation from either play was three years old, according to mr. daniel himself. why then should he not be mentioned? i must add a word on the fairy scene, v. . the fairies are nan the queen (in red?), cf. iv. . ; will cricket (in grey?); two other boys, bede and bean, in green and white; and evans, puck hobgoblin or robin goodfellow, in black. the prefixes _qu._, _qui._, and _pist._ are mistakes for _queen_ and _puck_. pistol and quickly cannot be actors in this scene, nor in the entrance are they placed with "evans, anne page, fairies," but at the ends of the second and third lines, as if by afterthought. all the pistol fairy speeches belong to evans (puck). there seems to have arisen some confusion in the final revision, when this scene was probably altered. further confirmation of the original early date of the play may be found in falstaff's statement that the thames shore was "shelvy and shallow" (iii. . ); for in the thames was so low as to be fordable at london bridge, and falstaff was thrown in the ford at datchet. but the allusions to "three doctor faustuses" and mephistopheles are not helpful; _faustus_ was on the boards till at least. one of henry julius' plays _derived from english sources_, printed in , _the adulteress_, contains the same story as _the merry wives_. if this was not derived from shakespeare's play, whence was it? the ground of the english play was probably the story in tarleton's _news out of purgatory_ ( ). note that the other play by julius distinctly traceable in origin to the english stage is _vincentius ladislaus_ ( ), in which the similarities to _much ado_ ( ), are as marked as in the present instance. we have already seen that evans acts the part of robin goodfellow, and that will cricket is another fairy; but these are two characters in _wily beguiled_, in which play robin goodfellow means drayton and will cricket kempe. i believe that in shakespeare's play, evans and dr. caius are satirical representations of drayton and lodge. drayton is introduced as evan, a welsh attorney, by jonson in _for the honour of wales_, and lodge was frequently satirised on the stage as a french doctor. the part of falstaff was acted in charles the first's time by lowin, and there is no reason why he should not have been the original performer of it in this play as revised. he was twenty-four years old in . . _julius cæsar_ is alluded to in weever's _mirror of martyrs_ (sir john oldcastle), ; and the actor of polonius in _hamlet_ iii. . had probably acted the part of cæsar; at any rate _cæsar_ must be anterior to the quarto _hamlet_ which was produced in . the structure of this play is remarkable; the first three acts and last two have no characters in common except brutus, cassius, antony, and lucius; there are in fact two plays in one, _cæsar's tragedy_ and _cæsar's revenge_. contemporary plays by other dramatists were produced in a double pattern: _e.g._, marston's _antonio and mellida_, in two parts; chapman's _bussy d'ambois_, in two parts; kyd's old play of _jeronymo_, in two parts. all these were on the stage at the same time as _julius cæsar_. revenge-plays with ghosts in them were the rage for the next four years. that the present play has been greatly shortened, is shown by the singularly large number of instances in which mute characters are on the stage; which is totally at variance with shakespeare's usual practice. the large number of incomplete lines in every possible position, even in the middle of speeches, confirms this. that alterations were made we have the positive testimony of jonson, who in his _discoveries_ tells us that shakespeare wrote, "cæsar did never wrong but with just cause" (compare iii. . ). that this original reading stood in the acting copies till not long before the folio was printed, is clear from the fact that jonson, in the induction to his _staple of news_ ( ), alludes to it as a well-known line requiring no explanation--"cry you mercy," says prologue, "you never did wrong but with just cause." this would imply that shakespeare did not make the alterations himself; a hypothesis confirmed by the spelling of antony without an _h_: this name occurs in eight of shakespeare's plays, and in every instance but this invariably is spelled anthony. jonson himself is more likely to have been called on to make this revision than any other author connected with the king's company c. . the "_et tu brute_" about which so much has been written was probably taken from jonson's _every man out of his humour_ (i. ); it is found in the _duke of york_ ( ) and elsewhere. nicholson, in his _acolastus his after wit_ (s. r. th september ), probably took it from shakespeare's play, "et tu brute! wilt thou stab cæsar too?" . _all's well that ends well_ manifestly contains passages--i. . - ; i. . - ; ii. . - ; ii. . - , - ; iii. letter: v. concluding part--which are of very early date; certainly written not later than . it is not, however, in my opinion, to be identified with _love's labour's won_: the allusions to the present title in iv. . ; v. . ; v. . , , all occur in rhyme passages, and some of them, at least, belong to the earlier date. the play, as we have it, was written after marston's _jack drum's entertainment_ ( ), to which there is a palpable allusion in iii. . ; and before _the dutch courtesan_ (probably ) by the same author, which contains several allusions to its title. the name _corambus_ in iv. . suggests the same date, as this is the appellation of polonius in the quarto _hamlet_. the introduction of violenta, a mute character, in iii. , and the substitution of the same name in _twelfth night_, i. , for viola, show that this last-named play was the last written of the two, but not much interval could have occurred between them. in confirmation of this approximation of dates, compare the name capilet, v. . , , with _twelfth night_, iii. . . in plot this play agrees with _much ado_ in the supposed death of helen, and the promise of bertram to marry maudlin lafeu; with _measure for measure_, in the substitution of helen for diana; with _the gentlemen of verona_, in helen's pilgrim disguise, and her meeting with the hostess. in it and _twelfth night_ we find a few slight allusions to the puritans; another confirmation of date. the only other use even of the word puritan is in the late play _winter's tale_, iv. . . compare the doubtful _pericles_, iv. . . the way in which the earthquake is mentioned in i. . , gives a still further confirmation. there was an earthquake in london in . i take the boasting parolles to be marston; born under mars, muddied in fortune's displeasure, an egregious coward, an accuser of captain dumain of being lousy, he in all points agrees with marston, as figured in the other satirical plays of the time. the charge against dumain is repeated against jonson in _satiromastix_; marston had left the admiral's company in , just before the fortune theatre was built for them. his cowardice is dilated on in jonson's _conversations_, and the allusions to him as _jack drum_ are frequent in the play. once we find tom drum in v. (from _tom drum's vants_ in _gentle craft_, ), a hint that thomas dekker, author of _the shoemaker's holiday, or the gentle craft_ ( ), was aiding and abetting john marston in his satirical plays. helen was acted by a short boy (i. . ). the incident of the king's gift to helen of his ring, only referred to in the last scene, seems to point at the gift of a ring to essex by elizabeth in . essex was executed in , just before this play was acted. the older parts pointed out above were, i think, incorporated from detached scenes written in during the plague time, and laid by for future use. the plot is from _giletta of narbonne_ in painter's _palace of pleasure_, a book used by shakespeare in for his alteration of _edward iii._ mr. stokes says that eccleston and gough acted in this play, on the authority of mr. halliwell; one of the many _ignes fatui_ that have misled this unwary compiler. - . _twelfth night, or what you will_, was first acted d february at one of the inns of court (manningham's _diary_). its date lies between marston's _malcontent_ ( ), (of malevole in which play malvolio is clearly a caricature), and _what you will_ ( ) by the same author. this adoption of the name of his play seems to have induced shakespeare to replace it by the now universally adopted title. the appellation rudesby (v. . ) is from chapman's _sir giles goosecap_ ( ). several minor points have been already noticed under the previous play _all's well_. in this play, as in that, i believe that earlier written scenes have been incorporated. it is only in similar cases that we find such contradictions as that between the three months' sojourn of viola at the count's court (v. ), and the three days' acquaintance with the duke in i. . in ii. there are palpable signs of alteration, and iii. . - , v. . - are surely of early date. moreover, the singular agreement of the plot with the _comedy of errors_ in the likeness of the twins, and with _the gentleman of verona_, or rather with _apollonius and sylla_, whence part of that play was derived, point to a likelihood that the first conceptions of these plays were not far apart in time. i think the early portions were written in , like those of the preceding play. for the change from duke (i. - ) to count in the rest of the play compare _the gentlemen of verona_. i believe that sir toby represents jonson and malvolio marston; but that subject requires to be treated in a separate work from its complexity. . _troylus and cressida_ was published surreptitiously in , with an address to the reader stating that it had been "never staled with the stage." this statement was withdrawn in the same year, and a new title-page issued, "as it was acted by the king's majesty's servants at the globe." it had in fact been entered in s. r. , february , by j. roberts, and licensed for printing, "when he hath gotten sufficient authority for it"--which he evidently did not get. it could not therefore have been produced later than . nor could it, as we have it, have been earlier; the line i. . , "rank thersites with his mastic jaws" evidently alluding to dekker's _satiro_-mastix ( ). i once thought marston, as _histriomastix_ or _theriomastix_, was alluded to; but the character of thersites suits dekker, not marston. jonson describes him in _the poetaster_, iii. , as "one of the most overflowing _rank_ wits in rome; he will slander any man that breathes if he disgust him." in , jonson, marston, and shakespeare had become reconciled; of reconciliation with dekker, at any time, there is no trace. this play is probably the "purge" given by shakespeare to jonson when he put down all those "of the university pen" (_the return from parnassus_, iv. , acted in the winter - ); ajax representing jonson, achilles chapman, and hector shakespeare: but whether this conjecture be true or no, dekker is certainly thersites. all this part of the play (the camp story) splits off from the love story of troylus and cressida, which is of much earlier date, c. . the two parts are discrepant in minor points, notably in the existence of a truce (i. . ), "dull and long-continued" fighting having been abundant in i. . the parts written in are i. ; ii. ; ii. ; ii. ; iii. . to end; iv. . (except lines - ); v. i; v. (retains much older work); v. . - . all this part bears evident marks of the reading of chapman's _iliad_ i.-vii. ( ); the love story is somewhat from the old troy book printed by caxton, but more from chaucer's _troilus and cressid_. at the end of v. , in the folio v. . - , are repeated; this shows that the _acting_ copy was meant to end with v. , thus making the play a comedy; as it now stands it is usually classed with the tragedies; in the folio, it is placed unpaged between the histories and tragedies, and is not mentioned in the "catologue" of contents. the prologue and v. - contain much work that is unlike shakespeare's, and are probably by some coadjutor whose other lines have been replaced by the additions. heywood in his _iron age_ treated this same subject, and the date of that play is important in this investigation. the _ages_ of heywood were acted before (see his address to the reader in _the golden age_); _the iron age_ was "publicly acted by two companies on one stage at once," and "at sundry times thronged three several theatres." these were the rose, the curtain, and the bull; pembroke's men, and the admiral's, acted together at the rose, october to november . this must have been the time when the _iron age_ was performed; but not as a new play. it would otherwise have been entered in henslowe's _diary_ as such. all the _ages_ were then probably old in . in - we find them accordingly entered by henslowe under other names; in , march , _the golden age_, whose scenes are in heaven and olympus, appears as steleo (coelo) and olempo; he subsequently writes seleo for steleo; _the silver_ and _brazen ages_ on may and may , as the first and second parts of _hercules_. these three plays were produced in succession. the entry of _galfrido and bernardo_ is a forgery, and a clumsy one, for it necessitates a sunday performance, which is a thing unknown in henslowe's _diary_, if the dates be properly corrected. on d june , _troy_ was acted, palpably _the iron age_; and on th april , _five plays in one_ may have been the second part of that play. about february , heywood left the admiral's men, and joined lord derby's; in april, dekker and chettle produced their _troylus and cressida_; in may their _agamemnon_, and dekker his _orestes' furies_. i believe that all these were merely enlargements of heywood's _iron age_. dekker was a "dresser of plays" and a shameless plagiarist; witness the stealing of day's work, which he afterwards reclaimed in his _parliament of bees_. at the same time that dekker was thus pillaging heywood, his friend marston was satirising heywood as post-haste in _histriomastix_ for appropriating shakespeare's _troylus_ (of ) and bringing out _the prodigal child_, the old _acolastus_ of , as a new play. there can be no doubt that the company satirised in _histriomastix_ is derby's. it was a "travelling" company, newly set up, with a poet who extemporises his plays (heywood had a share in ) and uses "no new luxury of blandishment, but plenty of old england's mother's words." the allusion to _troylus_, l. - , in which "he shakes his furious spear," has led some persons to a very absurd identification of posthaste with shakespeare. i have noticed before the singular allusion to _the iron age_ in _john_ iv. . ( ). . _the taming of the shrew_ is unlike any play hitherto considered; the shakespearian part of it being evidently confined to the katharine and petruchio scenes--ii. . - ; iii. (except - , - ); iv. ; iv. ; iv. (except three lines at end); v. (except ten lines at conclusion). the construction of the play shows that it was not composed by shakespeare in conjunction with another author, but that his additions are replacements of the original author's work; alterations made hurriedly for some occasion when it was not thought worth while to write an entirely new play. such an occasion was the plague year of , when the theatres were closed and the companies had to travel. we shall see, hereafter, that shakespeare's other similar alterations of other men's work were made in like circumstances. this date is confirmed by the allusions to other taming plays, of which there were several; the present play, in its altered shape, being probably the latest: ii. . refers to _patient grissel_, by dekker, chettle, and haughton, december ; "curst" in ii. . , , ; v. . , to dekker's _medicine for a curst wife_, july ; and iv. . to heywood's _woman killed with kindness_, march . there is nothing but the supposed inferiority of work to imply an earlier date; and this, on examination, will be seen to be merely a subjective inference arising from the reflex action of the less worthy portion with which shakespeare's is associated. rudesby in iii. . is from _sir giles goosecap_ ( ), and baptista, as a man's name, could hardly have come under shakespeare's notice, when in his _hamlet_ he made it a woman's. the earlier play thus altered probably dates , when an edition of _the taming of a shrew_ was reprinted. this last-named play was written for pembroke's company in - . another limit of date is given by the name _sincklo_ in the induction. sinklo was an actor with the chamberlain's men, from to . _nicke_ in iv. . is nicholas tooley. the play is not mentioned by meres in . in the induction, "the slys are no rogues: we came in with richard conqueror," is, i think, an allusion to the stage history of the time. sly and richard the third (burbadge) came into lord strange's company together in . in the pembroke play, don christophero sly was probably acted by christopher beeston. the induction, partly revised by shakespeare, seems to have been clumsily fitted by the players (as, indeed, the whole play is, especially in the non-appearance of "my cousin ferdinand," iv. . , whose place seems to be taken by hortensio): surely sly ought to have been replaced, as in the play; and is it possible that shakespeare even in a farce should have made sly talk blank verse, sc. , l. - ? _the taming of a shrew_, as acted in june at newington butts, was the old play which had belonged to pembroke's men, probably by kyd; but the first version of the play, afterwards altered by shakespeare, was written, i think, by lodge, (? aided by drayton in the induction). this induction was, i think, greatly altered by shakespeare in . . _hamlet_ is extant in three forms--the folio, which is evidently a stage copy considerably shortened for acting purposes; the quarto, which is a very fair transcript of the author's complete copy, with a few omissions; and the quarto, imperfect and inaccurate. the date of the perfect play is certainly . in ii . , &c., we find that the tragedians of the city--_i.e._, shakespeare's company--are "travelling," and that "their inhibition comes of the late innovation." this has been interpreted in various ways, the most absurd being that which regards the establishment of the revels children in as the innovation: hardly less so is malone's notion that the putting down of the curtain players in is the inhibition referred to. the globe company travelled in in consequence of essex' attempt at political innovation, and their acting _richard ii._ in connection therewith; they travelled again in , the theatres being shut because of the plague: this latter is the time referred to in the final version, for in the latter part of that year the puritan party had by millenary petitions at hampton court conferences, and so forth, attempted a religious "innovation;" and their anxiety to avoid this charge is evident in their continual protests that it was a reformation, not an innovation, that they wanted (see fuller, _church history_, under - _passim_). the immediately succeeding passage, l. - , however, which also occurs in the earlier version, distinctly points to . the "berattling of the common stages by the aery of little eyases," the controversy between poet and player, ended in that year; these lines are not contained in the second quarto. the words "if they should grow themselves to common players," indicate a possible date of writing c. , when ostler and underwood, chapel boys in , had grown up and been taken into the king's men; but the use of the present tense in the preceding paragraph shows that the same chapel children who had been engaged in the jonson and marston quarrel were still on the stage, and that the date of writing is anterior to their replacement by the revels boys in january . the growing to common players then must be taken generally, not specifically; unless we suppose a still further revision c. , which on other grounds is not unlikely. it may be worth noting that the play of _dido_, in rivalry of which the player's speech in ii. is recited, belonged to these same chapel children. in like manner the pyrgus in jonson's _poetaster_ recites bits of _the battle of alcazar_ in rivalry with dekker's _captain stukeley_. but although the date of the perfect play is almost certainly , _hamlet_ had certainly been on the stage some years at that time. tucca in _satiromastix_ ( ) says, "my name's _hamlet revenge_," and he comes on, "his boy after him, with two pictures under his cloak." in marston's _malcontent_ ( ), "illo, ho, ho, ho! art thou there, old truepenny?" must refer to _hamlet_. in iii. . , "let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them," refers, i think, to extemporising kempe, who left shakespeare's company in . florio's _montaigne_, which is implicitly referred to throughout the play (see mr. feis, _shakespeare and montaigne_, ), was entered s. r. th june . on the title-page of the first quarto it is said that the play had been acted in the universities of oxford and cambridge and elsewhere; _i.e._, in the travelling of . it is pretty clear, then, that was the date of its production. polonius (iii. . ) had already played julius cæsar _in the university_, which could hardly have been before ; and _hamlet_ was entered by roberts th july , in s. r., "as it was lately acted." plays thus produced during "travels," were almost always hurried and careless performances; indeed, this form of _hamlet_ seems to have been an unfinished refashioning of the old play by kyd, that had so long been performed by the chamberlain's men. the names corambis and montano for polonius and reynaldo, and a good deal of acts iii. and iv., seem to be remnants of this old play. the name corambus is found in the german version, which probably dates c. . it also occurs in _all's well_, iv. . . the first quarto is in this instance, as in those of _romeo_, _henry v._, and _merry wives_, in my opinion, printed from a partly revised prompter's copy of the play, which became useless when the fuller version was made. in this instance there are traces of alterations having been made on this copy similar to that in _romeo_, iii. . . the usual explanation of the peculiar text of imperfect quartos is, that notes were taken in shorthand at the theatre, which, eked out by the vampings of some playdresser, made up a saleable version, however incorrect. the stronghold of this theory is the soliloquy in iii. . , &c. the minor errors of "right done" for "write down," i. . ; "invenom'd speech" for "in venom steept," ii. . ; "honor" for "owner," v. . ; and the like, can be easily paralleled in the most authentic copies of printed plays of the period. but a careful examination of the text of that speech of hamlet's in the first quarto, shows that its present meaningless shape arises from the displacement of two lines only, an error which is most unlikely to have occurred in shorthand notes, and is completely subversive of the hack play-writing botcher hypothesis. i append this soliloquy, as i suppose it to have stood in the ms. of the prompter's copy, after the partial correction: [ bourne the undiscover'd country from whose sight no passenger ever return'd. ay, that] "to be, or not to be? ay, there's the point. to die--to sleep--is that all? ay. all? no. to sleep--to dream--ay, marry, there it goes. for in that dream of death when we, awake, _are doom'd_ before an everlasting judge, the happy smile and the accurst are damn'd. but for the joyful hope of this, who'ld bear the scorns and flattery of the world, the right scorn'd by the rich, the rich curst of the poor, the widow being opprest, the orphan wrong'd, the taste of hunger, or a tyrant's reign, and thousand more calamities besides, when that he may his full _quietus_ make with a bare bodkin? who would this endure, but for a hope of something after death, _the undiscover'd country, from whose bourne no passenger has e'er return'd? ay that_ puzzles the brain and doth confound the sense; which makes us rather bear the ills we have, than fly to others that we know not of. this consciënce makes cowards of us all." i have put in italics in the text the marginal corrections of "proof" as shown above, inserted in their proper places; a comparison with the first quarto will show how the printer, not the shorthand man or playdresser, by inserting them in the wrong places, has produced the nonsense that has caused so many groundless hypotheses. "when we awake, _and borne_ before an everlasting judge, _from whence no passenger ever return'd the undiscover'd country, at whose sight_ the happy smile," &c. and farther on: "_ay that_ o this conscience," &c. the erroneous notions with regard to these imperfect quartos arise, in a great measure, from their being compared with the carefully edited later versions; were they also edited and emended the differences would appear much smaller than they do now. the earlier ( ) form of this play was evidently hurriedly prepared during the journey to scotland, in which the company visited the universities, at a time when the public taste for revenge-plays had been revived by the reproduction of kyd's _jeronymo_ (_spanish tragedy_) by the chapel children, probably at jonson's suggestion; a new version of kyd's _hamlet_ naturally followed. other such plays were: marston's _antonio and mellida_ (paul's, - ); shakespeare's _julius cæsar_ ( ); chettle and heywood's _hoffman, or revenge for a father_, also called _like quits like_ (admiral's, january ): chapman's _revenge of bussy_ is of later date. a passage in _ram alley_ (c. ), v. , "the custom of thy sin so lulls thy sense," &c., is apparently imitated from iii. . , &c., a passage not found in the folio. this would lead to the conjecture that the folio abridgment was made after ; on the other hand, the re-insertion in it of ii. . - points to a date, about , when underwood and ostler had "grown to common players," and were admitted among the king's men. it was probably made then by shakespeare himself. it is indeed most unlikely, that were it not so, its text should have been preferred, by the editors of the folio, to the fuller one of the quarto, which lay ready printed to their hands. we have, then, in the forms of this play, an example of shakespeare's hurried revision of the work of an earlier writer, but it must be remembered in a most mutilated form; of the full working out of his own conception, in the shape fittest for private reading; and finally, of his practical adaptation of it to the requirements of the stage. the date of the printing of the first quarto, and, therefore, of the revision made in the second, is after th may , as the actors are called "king's servants" in the title-page. i. . - , which surely allude to the death of elizabeth, are omitted in the folio. in iii. . , iv. . , alternative readings-- {"for women fear too much even as they love", {"and women's fear and love hold quantity," {"and now behold" {"o gertrard, gertrard"-- are printed side by side, a sure mark of revision. . _measure for measure_ was written, in my opinion, in rivalry to marston's _the fawn_, which was printed march , but produced - . it was also subsequent to chettle and heywood's _like quits like_, th january ; v. . . all the allusions in it suit . the avoidance of publicity by james i. (i. . - ; ii. . - ); the existing war and expected peace (i. . . ); the stabbers--four out of ten prisoners--in iv. ; the stuffed hose, to which pompey's name is appropriate, all agree in this; peace was concluded in the autumn; the "act of stabbing" was passed in this year, the bombasted breeches revived with the new reign. but these are more valuable in showing what reliance can be placed on such allusions than in fixing the date of the play; for it was acted at court, th december . the title was probably taken from a line in _ henry vi._, ii. . ; the plot is like _all's well_ in the substitution of mariana, _twelfth night_ in the duke's love declaration at the end. it is founded on whetstone's _promos and cassandra_ ( ). an order was made in , that no new houses should be built in the suburbs of london. compare i. . . . _othello_ was acted at court st november , being, no doubt, like _measure for measure_, th december, a new play that year. the _merry wives_, th november, and _henry v._, th january, were revised for the same revels. the _errors_, th december, _loves labour's lost_, between new year and twelfth day, and _the merchant of venice_, january , , were also reproduced. the document in the record office containing these details is a modern forgery, but malone possessed a transcript of the genuine entry in the revels accounts. it was a bold thing for shakespeare to have performed before james i. in two plays on unfounded jealousy, at a time when the king was so jealous of the relations of the queen with lord southampton. the quarto copy of this play is abridged for stage reasons; by whom we cannot say. the allusion to the "huge eclipse" (v. . ), points to the total eclipse of d october . shakespeare had probably been reading harvey's _discoursive problem concerning prophesies_ ( ), in which he speaks of "a _huge_ fearful eclipse of the sun" as to happen on that day. the likeness of this play in small details to _measure for measure_ indicates close contemporaneity of date, _e.g._, the name angelo (i. . ); the word "grange" (i. . ), and "seeming" (iii. . ). this play was again acted at court in . it was founded on cinthio's novel _hecatomithi_, third decad, novel . the "men whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders" (i. . ) came from raleigh's narrative of _the discovery of guyana_ ( ). he was "resolved" of their credibility. in _the patient man_, by dekker, s. r. th november , there is a distinct reference to othello-- "thou kill'st her now again, and art more savage than a barbarous moor" (i. ). . _king lear_ was probably on the stage when the old play of _leir_ on which it was founded was published. this latter was entered on s. r. th may, as "the tragical history of king leir and his three daughters, as it was lately acted," but was published as "the true chronicle history of king leir and his three daughters, &c., as it hath been divers and sundry times lately acted." it is not tragical in any sense, and ends happily. shakespeare was the first person who, in opposition to the chronicles, made a tragedy on this story. there can be no doubt that stafford, the publisher, meant to pass the old play as shakespeare's; the last trace we have of it on the stage is in april , when it was acted at the rose by the queen's and sussex' men, who almost immediately afterwards broke up. that shakespeare's play remained on the stage till the end of is evident from the words "these _late_ eclipses" (i. . ) which clearly refer to the huge eclipse of the sun in october , and the immediately preceding eclipse of the moon in september. the word "late" could not be used, whether in the original text or by subsequent insertion, till october. that shakespeare had been probably reading harvey on the subject i have noticed under the preceding play, to which the present is every way closely allied. compare, for instance, the characters of iago and edmund. the quarto of , entered s. r. th november as acted at whitehall st. stephen's day, _i.e._, th december , is abridged and slightly altered for court representation and carelessly printed; the folio is, on the other hand, somewhat shortened for the public stage. the names of the spirits in iii. are from harsnett's _declaration of egregious popish impostures_. the two lines at the end of act i. and the merlin's prophecy (iii. . - ) are not in shakespeare's manner; they are mere gag, inserted by the fool-actor to raise a laugh among the groundlings. the story of gloster and his sons is probably founded on sidney's _arcadia_, ii. - , ed. . . _macbeth_, as we have it, is abridged for the stage in an unusual degree. nevertheless it contains one scene, iii. , and a few lines, iv. i. - , which are not by shakespeare. the character of hecate, and the songs in these passages (_black spirits and white_, and _come away_), are from middleton's _witch_, acted - . the insertions in _macbeth_ must have been made in ; they were probably merely intended to introduce a little singing and music then popular; and music has ever since been an essential ingredient in the stage representations. omitting these forty lines, we have ample evidence of the date of the play as shakespeare left it. in the porter's speech, ii. . - , - , the "expectation of plenty" refers to the abundance of corn in ; the allusions to equivocation certainly allude to the trial of garnet and other jesuits in the spring of that year: the "stealing out of a french hose" agrees with the short and strait fashion then in vogue, when "the tailors took more than enough for the new fashion sake" (a. nixon's _black year_, ); the touching for the king's evil, iv. . - , implies that james was on the throne. camden, in his _remains_ ( ), a book certainly known to shakespeare, refers to it as a "gift hereditary." the "double balls and treble sceptres" in iv. . - , necessitate a time of writing subsequent to th october , when the constitution was changed. the applicability of the circumstances of the play to the gowry conspiracy would be especially pleasing to james, and the predictions of the weyward sisters had already been presented to the king at oxford in latin in . warner added an account of macbeth to his new edition of _albion's england_ in , but the absolute argument against this being a new play when forman saw it performed th april , lies in the distinct allusion in _the puritan_ by middleton, acted --"instead of a jester, we'll ha' th' ghost in a white sheet sit at upper end o' th' table." this was shakespeare's first play without a jester, and banquo's ghost sits in macbeth's place at the upper end. there is little doubt that malone was right in assigning the visit of the king of denmark in july and august as the occasion for the production of this play at court. but was this the date of its first production on the stage? all the evidences for it are gathered from ii. . - , - ; iv. . - ; iv. . - ; every one of which passages bears evident marks of being an addition to the original text. the description of cawdor's death is remarkably like that of the earl of essex in stow (by howes, p. ), who minutely describes "his asking the queen's forgiveness, his confession, repentance, and concern about behaving with propriety on the scaffold." steevens (ii. ) reminds us of corresponding passages in _hamlet_ and _cæsar_, to which plays _macbeth_ is throughout more closely allied than to _lear_ or _timon_. the references to antony, i. . , iii. . , are just what might be expected from one who had recently read plutarch's life of antony for writing _julius cæsar_. shakespeare's company were in scotland in , and were appointed the king's servants; laurence fletcher being admitted burgess of the guild of the borough of aberdeen, d october . this, i think, is the date of production of _macbeth_ on the stage, being that of the revised play at court. but there are traces of a still earlier play. in , august , there is, says mr. collier, an entry in s. r. (i suppose in that portion relating to fines, &c., which mr. arber has not been allowed to reprint) referring to two ballads, one on _macdobeth_, the other on _the taming of a shrew_. kempe, in his _dance from london to norwich_ ( ), refers to this ballad as made by "a penny poet whose first making was the miserable stolen story of _mac-do-el_ or _mac-do-beth_ or _mac_ somewhat, for i am sure a _mac_ it was, though i never had the maw to see it;" he bids the writer "leave writing these beastly ballads; make not good wenches prophetesses, for little or no profit." this ballad was in all probability founded on a play, as its companion was; a play probably written some year or two before. that shakespeare had some connection with this early play, is rendered probable by iv. . - , in which dunsin'ane is accented in the southern manner; in the rest of the play it is always, as in scotland, dunsina'ne. this passage, in which macbeth speaks of himself in the third person, and rhymes in a manner which strongly reminds us of the pre-shakespearian stage, suggests that the old play of c. - was used by shakespeare in making his version. i may ask the reader who doubts the remarkable alterations to which this play has been subjected, to examine the following incomplete lines at points where compression by omission seems to have taken place, i. . ; i. . ; ii. . ; ii. . ; ii. . ; iii. . ; iv. . ; and to compare the later alterations by davenant and others, as given in my article in _anglia_, vol. vii. - . _timon of athens_ unquestionably contains much matter from another hand. the shakespearian part is so like _lear_ in matter, and _anthony and cleopatra_ in metre, that the conjectural date here assigned to it cannot be far wrong. it was founded on the passage in north's _plutarch_ (life of _antony_), and perhaps on the story as told in painter's _palace of pleasure_, with a hint or two from lucian's _dialogues_ (? at second hand; no translation of that time is known). it would be out of proportion in this work to reproduce my essay on the authorship, which awaits some slight corrections from recent investigation. it will be found in the new shakspere society's _transactions_ for . i can only here point out the parts that are certainly not shakespeare's, namely, ii. ; ii. . - ; iii. ; iii. ; iii. ; iii. (in great part); iii. ; iii. . - ; iv. ; iv. . - , - , - ; v. i. ; v. . delius and elze say the second author was george wilkins. perhaps so; but they are certainly wrong in regarding the play as an alteration made by shakespeare of another man's work. whether wilkins completed the unfinished sketch by shakespeare, or the actors eked it out with matter taken from a previous play by him, i cannot tell: but shakespeare's part is a whole _totus teres atque rotundus_. there is no trace of his ever working in conjunction with any author after , although in this play, in _the shrew_, and _pericles_ there is evidence of his writing portions of dramas which were fitted into the work of other men. wilkins left the king's men in and wrote for the queen's. this migration to an inferior company is so unusual as to indicate some rupture on unfriendly terms. perhaps the insertion of shakespeare's work in his play offended him. the unshakespearian characters in the play are three lords--lucius, lucullus, and sempronius; three servants--flavius (steward always in the shakespeare part), flaminius, and servilius; three strangers; three creditors--hortensius, philotus, and d varro; three masquers; and the soldier. i have not here assigned to wilkins all parts of the play that have been suspected, but only those with regard to which the evidence is definite, with entire exclusion of merely æsthetic opinion. . _anthony and cleopatra_ was entered on s. r. th may ; and no doubt was written not much more than a year before that date. where-ever we find plays entered but not printed in their author's lifetime, it is pretty safe to conclude that they were then still on the stage: compare, for shakespeare, the instances of _the merchant of venice_, _troylus and cressida_, and _as you like it_. . _coriolanus_ in all probability was produced not long after _anthony_. there is no external evidence available. both these roman plays are founded on north's _plutarch_. . _pericles_ as we now have it was probably on the stage in , when wilkins published his prose version of "the play, as it was lately presented by the worthy and ancient poet john gower." he was probably annoyed by the adoption of shakespeare's version of the marina story in place of his own. the rest of the play as it stands--_i.e._, acts i. ii. and gower chorus to act iii.--are by wilkins, in whose novel the only distinctly traceable piece of shakespeare's is from iii. . - , which is repeated almost verbatim. the play was published in , probably as an answer to wilkins; whose unaltered play must have been on the stage as early as , seeing that _the puritan_, acted that year, contains a distinct parody of the scene of thaisa's recovery. this original form of the play was founded on gower's _confessio amantis_ and twine's novel of _prince apollonius_, which was probably, in consequence of the popularity of the play, reprinted in . it was, i think, this wilkins' play that was entered in s. r. along with _anthony and cleopatra_ th may , and the publication of which was stayed. there is no trace of any transfer of blount's interest as so entered to gosson, who published the altered play. to the popularity of this drama there are many allusions, notably one in _pimlico, or run redcap_ ( ). . _cymbeline_ was probably produced after the roman plays and before _winters tale_; and the iachimo part was doubtless then written. there is, however, strong internal evidence that the part derived from holinshed, viz., the story of cymbeline and his sons, the tribute, &c., in the last three acts, was written at an earlier time, in i think, just after _lear_ and _macbeth_, for which the same chronicler had been used. all this older work will be found in the scenes in which lucius and bellarius enter. a marked instance in the change of treatment will be found in the character of cloten. in the later version he is a mere fool (see i. ; ii. ); but in the earlier parts he is by no means deficient in manliness, and the lack of his "counsel" is regretted by the king in iv. . especially should iii. be examined from this point of view, in which the prose part is a subsequent insertion, having some slight discrepancies with the older parts of the scene. _philaster_, which contains some passages suggested by this play, was written in . the iachimo story is found in boccaccio's _decameron_, day , novel . the verse of the vision, v. . - , is palpably by an inferior hand, and was probably inserted for some court performance after shakespeare had left the stage. of course the stage directions for the dumb show are genuine. this would not have been worth mentioning but for the silly arguments of some who defend the shakespearian authorship of these lines, and maintain that the play would be maimed without them. forman saw this play acted c. - ; which gives our only posterior limit of date. . _the winter's tale_ was founded on greene's _dorastus and fawnia_; it was still on the stage when dr. s. forman saw it, th may ; but this gives only a posterior limit. sir h. herbert mentions it as an old play allowed by sir g. buck. but buck, although not strictly master of the revels till august , had full power to "allow" plays from onwards. we are, after all, left in great measure to internal evidence. one really helpful fact is that jonson in _bartholomew fair_ links it with _the tempest_: "if there be never a _servant monster_ in the fair who can help it? nor a _nest of antics_? he is loth to make nature afraid in his plays like those that beget _tales_, _tempests_, and such like drolleries." this was written in , and at that date he would of course allude to the _latest_ productions of shakespeare, if to any. this allusion occurs in a play written for a rival company, the princess elizabeth's. in his _conversations_ with drummond, jonson again refers to this play _apropos_ of bohemia having no sea-coast. i suspect that the bear was a success in _mucedorus_, and therefore revived in this play. . _the tempest_ was shown by malone to contain many particulars derived from jourdan's narrative, th october , _a discovery of the bermudas, otherwise called the isle of devils; by sir thomas gates, sir george somers, and captain newport, with divers others_. he is not equally successful in showing that shakespeare used _the true declaration of the colony of virginia_, s. r. th november , in which the reference to _the tempest_ as a "tragical comedy" seems to me to show that the play was already on the stage. it does not follow that because the october pamphlet was used in the storm scenes, that none of the play was written before that month; but that the date of its first appearance was in october to november , i have little doubt. gonzalo's description of his ideal republic is from florio's _montaigne_. the play as we have it is evidently abridged; one character, the son of anthonio the duke of milan, i. . , has entirely disappeared, unless the eleven lines assigned to francisco are the _débris_ of his part. the lines forming the masque in iv. are palpably an addition, probably made by beaumont for the court performance before the prince, the princess elizabeth, and the palatine in - ; or else before the king on st november (_the winters tale_ being acted on th november). this addition consists only of the heroics, ll. - , - ; the mythological personages in the original play having acted in dumb show. in the stage directions (l. ) of the dumb show "juno descends;" in the text of the added verse l. , she "comes," and ceres "knows her by her gait." this and the preceding were surely shakespeare's last plays; compare prospero's speech, v. . , &c., and the epilogue. he began his career with the chamberlain's company (after his seven years' apprenticeship in conjunction with others, - ), with a midsummer dream, he finishes with a winter's tale; and so his playwright's work is rounded; twenty-four years, each year an hour in the brief day of work, and then the rounding with a sleep.[ ] . _henry viii._ as we have it is not the play that was in action at the globe when that theatre was burned on tuesday, th june . howes (stow, _chronicles_, p. ) says, "by negligent discharging of a peal of ordnance, close to the south side thereof the thatch took fire, and the wind suddenly disperst the flame round about, and in a very short space the whole building was quite consumed and no man hurt; the house being filled with people, to behold the play, viz., of _henry the eight_." a letter from thomas lorkin to sir thomas puckering, th june , and another from john chamberlain to sir ralph winwood, th july (winwood's _memorials_, iii. ), give similar accounts. sir henry wotton (_reliquiæ_, p. ), in a letter of d july , says it was at "a new play acted by the king's players at the bankside, called _all is true_, representing some principal pieces of the reign of henry the eighth." the title "all is true" is clearly alluded to in the prologue, ll. , , ; but the same prologue shows that the extant play was performed as a new one at blackfriars, for the price of entrance, a "shilling," l. , and the address to "the first and happiest hearers of the town," l. , are only applicable to the "private house" in blackfriars; the entrance to the globe was twopence, and the audience at this "public house" of a much lower class. this play is chiefly by fletcher and massinger, shakespeare's share in it being only i. ; ii. ; ii. ; while massinger wrote i. ; iii. . - ; v. . it was not, however, written by these authors in conjunction. shakespeare appears to have left it unfinished; his part is more like _the winter's tale_ than any other play, and was probably written just before that comedy in , during the prevalence of the plague. i have before noted the disturbing effect of these plague times, with the concomitant closing of the theatres, &c., on shakespeare's regular habits of composition. this play is founded on holinshed's _chronicle_ and fox's _christian martyrs_ ( ). it is worth noting that its success called forth new editions of s. rowley's _when you see me you know me_, and the _lord cromwell_ of w. s. in this year; both plays on henry the eighth's times. on the authorship question see mr. spedding's essay in _the gentleman's magazine_, august , mr. boyle's essay and my own letter in the _athenæum_. that the play (probably finished by fletcher, and destroyed in great part in the globe fire) was not that now extant is certain, for in a contemporary ballad on the burning of the globe we are told that the "riprobates prayed for the fool," and there is no fool in _henry viii._ the extant play was produced by fletcher and massinger in . . _the two noble kinsmen_ was published in , as written by fletcher and shakespeare. there is no other evidence that shakespeare had any hand in it, except the opinions of lamb, coleridge, spalding, dyce, &c. these, on analysis, simply reiterate the old argument, "it is too good for any one else." hazlitt and hallam held, notwithstanding, the opposite opinion. i have myself shown in _the literary world_, th february (boston), that the play was first acted in . it was printed from a playhouse ms., with stage directions, such as i. : " hearses ready with palamon and arcite; the queens. theseus and his lords ready;" and in iii. : "knock for schoole." but in iv. , we find an actor named curtis taking the part of messenger. no actor of that name is known except curtis greville, who joined the king's men between , when he belonged to the palsgrave's, and october , when he performed in massinger's _roman actor_. moreover, the prologue tells us this was a _new_ play performed in a time of losses, and in anticipation of leaving london. the company did leave london in , after their trouble in august about middleton's _game of chess_. on this occasion they travelled in the north, and performed at skipton three times for £ ; and again, in july they travelled, on account of the plague in london; where they ceased to perform in may, when the deaths from that disease exceeded forty per week. greville probably joined the king's men on the breaking up of the palsgrave's, of whom the last notice dates d november . this gives easter as the likeliest date for the play. but whether in or (and it must be one of these years) it was first acted, the advocates of shakespeare's part-authorship are now reduced to the hypothesis that a play begun by shakespeare was left unnoticed for some dozen years, although a similarly unfinished play had been finished and acted twelve seasons before, and a collected edition of shakespeare's works had been issued in the interim, in which had been included every available portion of his writings.[ ] i cannot believe this; nor can i think that if shakespeare were really concerned in this play it would have been put forth in with so modest a prologue. this might have suited while he lived, but nine years after his death, and two years after his collected works had been published, it is incredible. with the highest respect then for the eminent æsthetic critics who hold that shakespeare did write part of this play, i must withdraw my adhesion, and state my present opinion that there is nothing in it above the reach of massinger and fletcher, but that some things in it (ii. a; iv. ) are unworthy of either, and more likely to be by some inferior hand, w. rowley for instance. the popular instinct has always been on this side; editions containing this play have not been sought after; and had it not been _known_ not to have been shakespeare's, it would surely have been gathered up with the w. s. plays in the folio of . footnotes: [ ] this name occurs in _apollonius and sylla_, of which more hereafter. [ ] compare with this masque, that by beaumont written for the inner temple, . . "thy banks with pioned and twilled brims" (_tempest_). "bordered with sedges and water flowers" (_inner temple masque_). "naiades with sedged crowns" (_tempest_). . "blessing ... and increasing" (_tempest_). "blessing and increase" (_inner temple masque_). . the main part played by iris in both. . the dance of the naiads in both. many of the properties could be utilised in both performances. [ ] _pericles_ and _edward iii._ are no exceptions to this statement; the copyrights of both belonged to other publishers, and were retained by these after the folio was issued. section v. on the marlowe group of plays. _ henry vi._ was acted as a new play at the rose by lord strange's men d march . it is evidently written by several hands. no successful attempt has yet been made to discriminate these; yet it will be found that on this discrimination depends the elucidation of so many difficult circumstances of shakespeare's early career, that no apology is required for giving to this play an amount of consideration which it would not deserve on account of its intrinsic merits. it is convenient to commence our investigation by a brief summary of the historical parts contained in the play. a , august . henry vi. succeeded to the throne at "nine months old." a , november . henry v. was buried at westminster (i. ). a . gloster was refused admission to the tower (i. ). a , january . the earl of march died _at trim_, leaving richard plantagenet his heir. [this edmund mortimer was not imprisoned in the tower, as in the play; but his uncle, sir john mortimer, was so, who was executed shortly before.] (ii. .) a , march. a parliament was held _at leicester_ (iii. ). b september to may. orleans was besieged (i. , , , ; ii. , , ). a . the battle of patay [called _poitiers_, iv. . ] at which fastolfe [called falstaff in the play] fled, and talbot was taken (i. . - ; compare iii. . - ). a . charles was crowned at rheims (i. . ). a . the french towns revolted (i. . ). for paris mentioned among them compare v. . . e , may. joan of arc was taken, and ( , may) burned (v. . - ; v. . - ). b , december. henry vi. was crowned at paris (iii. ; iv. ). c , september. bedford died _at paris_ (iii. ), and burgundy made peace with france (iii. ). e . paris submitted to charles (v. . ). e . the match between henry and margaret was arranged (v. . - ; v. ). e . a truce was made for eighteen months (v. . - ). d . talbot and his son were killed in battle (iv. , , , , , ). the capital letters prefixed to these dates will enable us to follow readily the arrangement of these events in the play. the a. group, comprising i. . , ii. , iii. , is manifestly by one writer. the time limits of his scenes are and : the first scene contains allusions to events of a subsequent date, thrust in for dramatic effect without regard either to historical accuracy or the internal consistency of the play. specially the battle of patay, the crowning of charles, and the revolt of the french towns may be noted. it is hardly requisite to do more than read the opening speech to see that the author of these scenes was marlowe. it may be noticed, however, that in these scenes, and in these only, we find gloster (gloucester elsewhere), reynold (reignier or reigneir elsewhere), and roän (monosyllabic elsewhere). all these scenes are laid in london. the b. group, i. . . . . , ii. . . , iii. , iv. ., contains only events that happened between and , the scene being laid at orleans, auvergne, or paris. the bit of the battle of patay iii. . - , thrust into the midst of scenes at rouen in , would probably belong to this group. it seems to be a preparation for iv. , stuck for dramatic purposes in a position historically most incongruous. the author of these scenes is not easy to identify: his work is rather colourless, yet minor coincidences with the known work of robert greene and thomas kyd point to one of them as the writer. in this group only we find the spellings: joane de puzel (pucelle elsewhere), reigneir (occasionally also reignier), and gloucester (gloster elsewhere, except in one instance, where glocester is probably a misprint). there can be no doubt that these scenes are all by one author, and that not the writer of group a., but very far inferior. group c., iii. . , is very like group b. in general handling, but has some marked characteristics: here, and here only, we find burgonie (burgundy or burgundie elsewhere) and roan monosyllabic; pucelle (puzel in group b.) and joane (jone in group d.) also differentiate it from these groups. the time is , place rouen. i conjecture the author to have been george peele. group d. v. - is made up of the joan of arc story of - and the margaret match of . this group has gloucester invariably (gloster in group a.), jone (joane in b., c.), reignier (never reigneir, as b.) the author of these scenes is without doubt thomas lodge. his versification is unmistakable, and the phrase "cooling card" occurs in _marius and sylla_, the older plays of _john_ and _leir_ (both times in parts by lodge). it has not been traced in greene, peele, or marlowe. before considering group e., iv. - , which is concerned only with talbot's last fight near bourdeaux in , i would draw attention to the fact that it is clear that this episode did not form part of the original play: it is merely connected with it by the two lines, v. . , , which may have been inserted for that purpose; belongs chronologically to the next play, and is so different from, as well as so superior to, its surroundings, that in i suggested that shakespeare might have written it. mr. swinburne has since sanctioned this opinion by adopting it. this, however, is not evidence; what follows is. the scenes in the folio are not divided in acts i., ii.; in the other acts they are. acts iii. and iv. coincide with the modern division; but v. of the modern editors is iv. in the folio; v. . . , are iv. in the folio, and v. in the folio is the whole fifth act. here then is the play completed without iv. - , _which are not numbered at all_. it is plain that they were written subsequently to the rest of the play and inserted at a revival. they had to be inserted in such a manner as not to break the connection between this play and _ henry vi._, and were put in the most convenient place, regardless of historic sequence. i take it for granted that this play in its original shape was acted before _ henry vi._, the commencement of which was evidently meant to fit on to the end of the preceding play. it is in accordance with the hypothesis here announced (that the play acted d march was new only in these talbot scenes,) that we find nash in his _piers penniless_ (s. r. th august ) referring only to the talbot scenes as new. "how it would have joyed brave talbot, the terror of the french, to think that after he had lain two hundred year in his tomb, he should triumph again on the stage, and have his bones embalmed with the tears of ten thousand spectators at least." it was acted thirteen times at the rose between march and june , that is, at least once a week; was the most popular play of the season, and was probably still in action "about the city" or in the country during the time that the theatres were closed for the plague, from d june till january , when it was again played at the rose. it was, therefore, in action when greene's celebrated address "to those gentlemen, his quondam acquaintance, that spend their wits in making plays," was written. this address was published in greene's _groatsworth of wit_ after d september, when greene died, and before th december, when chettle's _kind-hart's dream_ was entered on s. r., and was probably written about june. it is addressed to marlowe, lodge, and peele. attempts have been made to show that nash, not lodge, was the second playwright of this trio, on the ground that lodge was too old to be called "young juvenal" or "sweet boy;" was absent from england; was not a satirist, and had foresworn writing for the theatre. the only important argument is that of lodge's age. as this is important in other respects, i give here a table of the known birth dates, matriculations, b.a. and m.a. degrees, and first appearances as authors of the university men connected at that time with the stage:-- born. matriculated. b.a. m.a. author in lyly - peele greene ... ... lodge ... ... marlowe nash - ... it will be seen from the above table that the degree of b.a. was usually taken at eighteen or nineteen; that lodge and greene were probably of about the same age; and if we may judge from greene's slowness in obtaining his m.a. degree, that he was not speedy in fulfilling the earlier university requirements. greene was probably the elder. at any rate, lodge's age in was about thirty-three, surely not too old for one of about his own age to call "boy." he was a satirist before . _the looking-glass for london_ is bitter enough for any "young juvenal." on the other hand, nash was certainly not the "biting satyrist that lastly with me [greene] wrote a comedy." he had at the time of greene's death written no comedy whatever: his first connection with the stage was his _summer's last will_, acted at archbishop whitgift's, in november . lodge, we know, had written with greene _the looking-glass_, and there is strong internal evidence of his having a hand in _george-a-greene_ and _james iv._ nor could the statement that "those puppits that speak from our mouths, those anticks garnished in our colours," had "all been beholding" to you, be with any consistency applied to nash. greene was evidently addressing the principal playwrights of the time, and, if my present view is a true one, he seized the opportunity of shakespeare's having made "new additions" to a play in which all of them had been concerned to endeavour to create an ill-feeling between "the upstart crow beautified with our feathers" and those of the university men, who had hitherto enjoyed a monopoly of writing for the stage, or nearly so. to have omitted lodge in such an attempt would have been weak; to have included nash, absurd. the effect of greene's address was not what he desired. peele had probably already been a coadjutor of shakespeare, and marlowe immediately, and no doubt lodge later on, joined shakespeare's company and wrote for them. in greene's excuse must be considered how galling it must have been to a man in poverty and bad health to see a play which, while he was connected with it, had attracted little notice, suddenly raised to the highest success by the insertion of a few scenes written by a "johannes factotum," a "shakescene," who was "able to bombast out a blank verse" without being "_magister in artibus utriusque universitatis_." confirmations of my views as to this play will be found in the succeeding ones. the scene ii. has long been recognised as so far superior to the rest of the play as to be probably due to the hand of shakespeare at a later date, c. - . _ henry vi._--this play exists in two forms: one in the folio, hereafter for convenience called f.; the other in quarto, entered s. r. th march , hereafter called q. it was published in as _the first part of the contention betwixt the two famous houses of york and lancaster_. this quarto version is a mangled and probably surreptitious copy of the original play, greatly abbreviated for acting. the play as first written will be hereafter called o. but f. and o. are not identical, although in many parts o. was more like f. than q. it will be convenient to enter on the proof that o. was revised and altered before beginning the discussion of the authorship of either version, which is the most difficult, if not the most important, problem in shakespearian criticism. in the folio of a list is given of the principal actors in shakespeare's plays. the method in which this list is arranged has never been pointed out. it is chronological. the first ten names are those of the original _men_ actors when the chamberlain's company was instituted in ; the next five were added not later than ; the next five (excepting field, who is inserted here from his early connection with underwood and ostler) c. ; the final six after . by a comparison of this list with the names of the actors in _the seven deadly sins_, originally acted before , but the extant plot of which dates c. , we shall get the evidence we want. the first seven names in the folio list are ( .) w. shakespeare, ( .) r. burbadge, ( .) j. hemmings, ( .) a. phillips, ( .) w. kempe, ( .) j. pope, ( .) g. bryan. the last five of these we know to have been members of lord strange's company in . in the _ . d. s._ we find neither shakespeare nor hemmings; but we do find ( .) r. burbadge, ( .) mr. phillips, ( .) will foole, ( .) mr. pope, ( .) mr. bryan. it will be noticed that the prefix mr. is confined to members of lord strange's company. next in the folio list come ( .) henry condell, ( .) william sly, ( .) richard cowley. these appear in _ . d. s._ as ( .) harry, ( .) w. sly, ( .) r. cowley. at this point we are struck with the fact that harry, will, and dick are names of three cade conspirators in q., and naturally try to see if the other names, nick, jack, robin, tom, and george, occur in _ . d. s._ for it is certain that in very early plays up to the end of the sixteenth century it was frequently the case that the actors in plays are designated by their proper christian names. we do find ( .) nick (_i.e._, nicholas tooley, a boy-actor in , but a man c. in the folio of ), ( .) john duke, ( .) robert pallant, ( .) thomas goodall; but george, _i.e._, g. peele, is not there discoverable. i may notice that duke and pallant, like beeston, all three of whom left the chamberlain's men for the earl of derby's in , are excluded from the folio list. on turning to another play, _sir thomas more_, c. , the only other one that can give us similar information on the same scale, i find ( .) harry, ( .) robin, ( .) t. goodall, ( .) kit (_i.e._, christopher beeston), and two boys, ( .) ned and ( .) a second robin, _i.e._, robert gough, who occurs in the folio list as a man c. . in the _ . d. s_. these latter correspond to ( .) kitt, ( .) ned, ( .) r. go. in _sir t. more_ there are two other names of this kind, giles and rafe. of giles nothing more is known, but rafe raye is mentioned in henslowe's _diary_ as a chamberlain's man in . a further examination of older plays leads to little additional information; but what is to be found all confirms the opinion that i had formed (as will be seen), on other grounds, that _ henry vi._ was written for the queen's men. thus in plays known to have belonged to that company, i find in _the famous victories_, ( .) john, ( .) robin, ( .) tom, ( .) ned and lawrence; in _orlando_, ( .) tom and rafe (raye); in _friar bacon_, ( .) dick, ( .) tom; and in _james iv._, andrew. there is no andrew in our lists, but one occurs in _much ado about nothing_, iv. , - , in place of kempe: apparently a remnant of the older form of _love's labour's won_ before kempe undertook the part. but our list of the _ . d. s._ is not yet exhausted: ( .) sander (a boy-player, but the same as alexander cooke, a man in in the folio list), ( .) t. belt, and ( .) will (another boy), occur in _the taming of a shrew_, . of ( .) vincent, nothing is known; but ( .) j. sinkler acted with gabriel (spenser) and humfrey (jeffes) in _ henry vi._, which belonged to pembroke's company. now as the last two, with antony jeffes and robert shaw, appear in henslowe's _diary_ for the first time immediately after the partial breaking up of pembroke's company and their juncture with the admiral's in october , it is morally certain that sinkler had gone to the chamberlain's, and spenser shaw and the two jeffes to the admiral's, at or before that date. i feel, therefore, justified in concluding that the _ . d. s._ gives us a nearly complete list of the chamberlain's actors, formed of lord strange's players as a nucleus; such of the queen's men as joined them in - , when they obtained many queen's plays (see p. ), and such of pembroke's as joined them in , when they obtained pembroke's plays (see p. ). i have omitted only one name, and the absolute coincidence of nearly every one of the rest with the lists obtained from other sources is too remarkable to be the mere effect of accident: in fact, the chances are many millions to one against this being the case. the one name omitted is ( .) john holland. this name occurs nowhere else to my knowledge, but in the _ . d. s._ plot and _ henry vi._, act iv. in the folio, where he replaces nick of the quarto. there can be no doubt of this being an actor's name; and its occurrence shows at once that the cade part of the play was revised, and that the revision was probably made after . had it been earlier, there would have been two johns in the company, duke and holland, and duke would not have been called simply jack. if the above conclusions are well founded, _ henry vi._ was originally written for the queen's men as a continuation of _ henry vi._, and, like the latter-mentioned play, passed into the hands of lord strange's men in - , but was not, like it, then revised; or it may, like _george a greene_, have passed to sussex' men; from them, like _titus andronicus_, to pembroke's; and thence to the chamberlain's. it is noticeable that although published in quarto by the same person, millington, who published _ henry vi._ as the _true tragedy of richard duke of york_ in , he put no name of acting company on the former play, as he did that of pembroke's on the latter. this distinctly shows that the original companies for whom these plays were written were not identical, and that that of _ henry vi._ was probably unknown to millington. as to the authorship of _ henry vi._, it will be well to make f. the basis of investigation, always having in mind the possibility of passages having been inserted by the ultimate reviser. the corruption and omission in q. caused by the shortening for stage purposes have been so great, that the usual plan of beginning with q. becomes altogether misleading. the example of _ henry vi._ induces me to attach great weight to the chronological arrangement of the historical facts. henry's marriage in forms the subject of i. , evidently written by greene originally. the word "alderliefest" in . should specially be noted: it is used by greene in his _mourning garment_, and "aldertruest" in his _james iv._ such words are not found in marlowe, peele, lodge, or shakespeare; yet here one occurs in a passage found in f. but not in q., plainly indicating omission in q., not addition in f. the next portion, i. -ii. , is concerned with the banishment of the duchess of gloster, , and the story of saunder simcox, , with which is incorporated the accusation of the armourer for high treason, . this part (except i. . - ) is mainly by george peele, but much altered in the f. revision. peele his mark, "sandy plains," occurs in i. . . the simcox anecdote, however, ii. . - , which is quite unconnected with the rest of the play, is more like kyd's work than peele's, and may have been written by him. the exceptional bit, i. . - , to the conversation in which no historical date can be assigned, is manifest marlowe; a preparation for iii. -iv. , which is beyond question by him. the events in this section are (iii. a) the accusation and (iii. ) murder of gloster in ; (iii. ) the banishment of suffolk, ; (iii. ) the death of winchester in ; (iii. b) the irish insurrection in ; and, finally, (iv. ) the death of suffolk in . these scenes are the salt of the play. the opening lines of iv. , the description in iii. . , &c., the awful pathos of the death of winchester, are from the same hand as the end of _doctor faustus_. the differences of q. and f. in this portion are mostly due to omissions in q.: iii. , for instance, could not have been left in the state in which q. has it by the meanest of the authors of the play: it is cut down by some illiterate actor. that revision there has been is, however, plain from the singular circumstance that in iii. elianor is given for margaret as the queen's name. this is probably due to marlowe's almost simultaneous work on the older _john_, in which queen elianor is a prominent character. it would seem that the revisor missed this scene, although correcting margaret properly in the others. it is no printer's error; for in l. we have "nell," for which some modern editors euphoniously substitute "meg." the rest of the play, iv. -v. , is by one hand, and that hand lodge's. the notion that greene wrote it arises from want of discriminating greene's work from lodge's in _the looking-glass for london_, all the better part of which is by lodge. i fear that those who underrate the powers of this elegant and (in his own line) powerful writer estimate him by his earliest dramatic effort, _marius and sylla_. he should be read in his _glaucus_ and _rosalynde_; and his evident wish to avoid being known as a dramatic writer should be taken into account. that he did continue to write plays for many years, i have no doubt, but the evidence is too extensive to be given here. this part of the play includes cade's insurrection, , and the battle of st. albans, . as regards the date, &c., of revision, see under the next play. _ henry vi._ is of very different character from the two preceding plays. if read in the f. version, no change of authorship is perceptible; all is consistent; and if the q. version had not come down to us, no one would have suspected a second author. it is plainly by marlowe, but the marlowe of _edward ii._, not of _faustus_, later in date than _ henry vi._ f. is nearly if not quite identical with the original play. q. is not, as in the case of the preceding play, an abridgment for the stage made by the actors, but one made for the same purpose, carefully and accurately, apparently by the author himself. the reason for this difference in the treatment of the plays is manifest. _ henry vi._ was, as we know from the title-page, acted by pembroke's men, and f. is printed from a prompter's copy, in which the names of gabriel [spenser], humphrey [jeffes], and [john] sinkler appear in the stage directions; and they were actors for that company. there is not a particle of evidence that this stage copy was ever altered in any way after the chamberlain's company acquired it. a careful examination of such passages as ii. , the stronghold of the revision theory, shows too much coincidence between q. and f. for any likelihood of rewriting having taken place, except by way of abridgment in q. but in _ henry vi._ things are quite different: the greene and marlowe parts are merely abridged in q., and the peele a good deal revised in f. as well as abridged in q.; but the lodge part at the end is absolutely rewritten in the st. alban's battle, and the very names of the actors are changed in the cade insurrection. who could have done this but shakespeare? here, and here only, can we find an explanation of the inclusion of these plays in the folio edition of his works in . in my opinion the history of the plays is this: about - , marlowe plotted, and, in conjunction with kyd (or greene), peele, and lodge, wrote _ henry vi._ for the queen's men. about the same authors wrote _ henry vi._; in that year i have ascertained that marlowe left the queen's men, and in joined pembroke's, for whom he alone wrote _ henry vi._ in - the queen's men were in distress, and sold, among other plays, _ henry vi._ to lord strange's men, who produced it in with shakespeare's talbot additions as a new play. in the autumn of that year or in - , when the companies travelled on account of the plague, they cut down their plays for country representation; among others, _ henry vi._ (altered by some illiterate) and _ henry vi._ (abridged by marlowe himself). on this point compare the parallel instances of abridged plays, _hamlet_, _orlando_, and _the guise_. in may _ henry vi._ passed to the sussex' men with _leir_, &c., when the queen's men broke up; in february with _andronicus_ to pembroke's; in april, when pembroke's company partly dissolved, all three plays were reunited in the hands of the chamberlain's men; and for them _ henry vi._ was, c. , after lodge had retired, remodelled by shakespeare, and _ henry vi._ corrected--the other authors, peele, marlowe, (kyd?), and greene, having died before . meanwhile millington published _ henry vi._ q. as _york and lancaster_, and _ henry vi._ q. as _richard duke of york_, these abridged copies having become useless to pembroke's men on the ceasing of the plague and of their travels. i have not noticed here the many parallel passages from the works of marlowe and others which confirm the assignment of authorship now advocated. it would be out of all proportion to give them here unless imperfectly: the reader will find some in dyce's _marlowe_, and more in my edition of _edward ii._ nor have i noticed the schoolboy interpretation that explains "their" in _henry v._, epil. l. , as referring to _ _ and _ henry vi._: "their," _more shakespeariano_, like "they" in the previous line, refers in form to the "many" of l. , but in meaning to the actors of _ henry vi._, in which play, and not in _ henry vi._, the loss of france is treated of. it is also most unlikely that the edition of _the duke of york_ should have been issued as played by pembroke's servants if the play had been previously acted by the chamberlain's. compare the parallel case of _andronicus_. miss lee's statement, "greene wrote, nash tells us," more than four others "for lord pembroke's company," is absolutely without foundation. nash says "the company" (_apology_, ), and evidently alludes to the queen's men, for whom _orlando_, _bacon_, _selimus_, and _the looking-glass_ were written. in fact, greene's only known connection with any other company was his fraudulent selling of _orlando_ a second time to the admiral's. marlowe, and he alone, is _known_ as a writer for pembroke's: kyd may have been, however, and in my opinion was, a contributor to their stage. _richard iii._ is closely connected with _ henry vi._, and written with direct reference to it. in i. . , iv. . , iv. . , scenes in that play are plainly alluded to. nor is it possible, if the two plays be read in immediate sequence, to avoid the feeling that they have a common authorship. on the other hand, a closer analysis shows that in _richard_ the latin quotations, classical allusions, and peculiar animal similes which are characteristic of _henry_ have entirely disappeared. there are also discrepancies, such as gray's fighting for the lancastrians, i. . , whereas in _ henry vi._, iii. . , he is represented as a yorkist, which shows a different hand in the two plays. _richard iii._ has always been regarded as entirely shakespeare's, and its likeness to _ henry vi._ has more than anything else kept alive the untenable belief that this last-named play was also, in part or wholly, written by our greatest dramatist. yet the unlikeness of _richard iii._ to the other historical plays of shakespeare, and the impracticability of finding a definite position for it, metrically or æsthetically, in any chronological arrangement, have made themselves felt. even cautious mr. halliwell says, "there are slight traces of an older play to be observed, passages which belong to an inferior hand;" and again, "to the circumstance of an anterior work having been used do we owe some of its weakness and excessively turbulent character" (_outlines_, ). a careful examination of the editions will be found to confirm and extend this conclusion. the quarto q_{ }, which is evidently an abridged version made for the stage, and which no doubt was the version acted during nearly all elizabeth's reign, differs from the folio in a way not to be paralleled in any other shakespearian play. minute alterations have been made in almost every speech, in a fashion which could not have been customary with him who uttered his thoughts so easily as scarcely to make a blot (_i.e._ alteration) in his papers. the question of anteriority of the q. and f. versions has been hotly debated on æsthetic grounds; but the mere expurgation of oaths and metrical emendations in f. are enough to show that it is the later version, probably made c. ; while the fact that it was preferred by the editors of the folio shows that they considered it the authentic copy of shakespeare's work. in other instances, _macbeth_, _the tempest_, &c., they have indeed given us abridged editions; but there is neither proof nor likelihood that any other were accessible. we do not know what original copies were destroyed in the globe fire of , and should be thankful for such versions as we have, which were probably the acting versions used at blackfriars. but in this case the editors had at hand the quartos, and unless they thought the folio more authentic, i cannot see why they preferred it. furthermore, the f. version appears to have been defective in some places; for v. . , end of play, and iii. . - , are certainly printed from q_{ } ( ). this has been controverted, but on very insufficient grounds. now directly we compare the folio and quarto versions, we meet with evidence that alteration and correction have been largely used in both of them. for instance, derby is found as a character in the play in i. , ii. , , iv. , v. , in both versions; in iii. . , iv. , v. , he is called stanley. this shows correction by a second hand. in iv. , while stanley has been inserted in the text, derby remains in the prefixes; v. is only partially corrected, and both names occur. the names were not used indifferently, for in iv. , , we find stanley in f. but derby in q. this shows a progressive correction in which q. precedes f. it may be noticed that darby is the original author's spelling. in like manner, _gloster_, the original prefix, has in i. , , , ii. . , iii. , , , been replaced in f. by _richard_, but in iii. , in the part printed from q_{ }, and there only, _gloster_ remains. so again margaret is indicated in the older version by _qu. mar._, _qu. m._, &c., but never _mar._, as in f. iv. . in f. i. we find by side of _mar._ a remainder of the older form in _q. m._ this is not an exhaustive statement, but sufficient i think to show that alterations were made, as i suggest. there can be little doubt that in this, as in _john_, shakespeare derived his plot and part of his text from an anterior play, the difference in the two cases being that in _richard iii._ he adopted much more of his predecessor's text. i believe that the anterior play was marlowe's, partly written for lord strange's company in , but left unfinished at marlowe's death, and completed and altered by shakespeare in . it was no doubt on the stage when, on th june , the older play on _richard iii._, "with the conjunction of the two houses of lancaster and york," was entered s. r. that was acted by the queen's players. the unhistorical but grandly classical conception of margaret, the cassandra prophetess, the helen-ate of the house of lancaster, which binds the whole tetralogy into one work, is evidently due to marlowe, and the consummate skill with which he has fused the heterogeneous contributions of his coadjutors in the two earlier _henry vi._ plays is no less worthy of admiration. i do not think it possible to separate marlowe's work from shakespeare's in this play--it is worked in with too cunning a hand; but wherever we find _darby_, _qu. m._, _glo._, &c., we may be sure that some of his handiwork is left. could any critic, if the older _john_ were destroyed, tell us which lines had been adopted in the later play? nor can i enter, unless in a special monograph, on the relations of the quartos to each other. the question is of no importance, and i need only say that the usual corruptions take place from q_{ } to q_{ }, and that in q_{ } ( ) many readings are found agreeing with f. which are not in the other quartos. the same phenomenon is observed in the edition of _the whole contention_, and far too much has been made of it. it merely indicates correction by attendance at the theatre and picking up a few words during the action. the only quartos deserving special notice are q_{ }, as containing shakespeare's first "additions," and q_{ }, as having been used in printing part of f. i do not think the allusion in weever's _epigrams_, written - , is to this play. it may be so. _titus andronicus._--that this play is not by shakespeare is pretty certain from internal evidence. the latin quotations, classical allusions, use of _pour_ as prefix in iv. , manner of versification, and above all the introduction of rape as a subject for the stage, would be sufficient to disprove his authorship. fortunately we know that it was produced by the earl of sussex' men, d january , and shakespeare belonged then to derby's (lord strange's). it was afterwards, on the breaking up of that company, acted by pembroke's and derby's before th april, when lord derby died. enlargement in the folio or abridgment in the quarto, (we have no copy extant of the first edition, entered s. r. february ), appears in iii. , found in f., not in q., and there is a distinct continuity between acts i. and ii.; at the end of act i. we have "_manet_ moore," not _exeunt_ simply. whether this play got into the folio by some confusion with _titus and vespasian_, played by lord strange's men th april , which was, as we know from a german version extant, written on the same subject, and in which shakespeare may have had some share, we cannot tell; but it was certainly played and revised (there was another edition in ), while the other play has perished. that it was written by marlowe i incline to think. what other mind but the author of _the jew of malta_ could have conceived aaron the moor? mr. dyce has warned us against attributing too many plays to the short career of marlowe, but he did not consider that marlowe probably wrote two plays a year from - , and that we have only at present seven acknowledged as his. those now attributed to him, in whole or part, by me will raise the number to a baker's dozen; but in some of these, as the older _john_ and _ _ and _ henry vi._, his share was comparatively slight. nevertheless, i think the opinion that kyd wrote this play of _andronicus_ worth the examination, although, with such evidence as has yet been adduced, marlowe has certainly the better claim. shakespeare probably never touched this play unless by inserting iii. , which is possible. _edward iii._ the shakespearian part of this play, i. , ii. . (beginning at "what, are the stealing foxes"), which contains lines from the then unpublished _sonnets_, ii. . , , and an allusion to the recently published _lucreece_, ii. . , was clearly acted in , after th may, when _lucreece_ was entered on s. r. _edward iii._ was entered st december . this love-story part is from painter's _palace of pleasure_. the original play is by marlowe, and was acted in and is thus alluded to in greene's _never too late_, c. december in that year: "why, roscius, art thou proud with Æsop's crow, being prankt with the glory of others' feathers? of thyself thou canst say nothing; and if the cobler hath taught thee to say _ave cæsar_, disdain not thy tutor because thou pratest in a king's chamber." _ave cæsar_ occurs in i. . , but not in any other play of this date have i been able to find it. there are many similarities between the marlowe part of this play and _henry vi._ as the roscius in greene's pamphlet was the player who had interpreted the puppets for seven years, who induced greene to write for the stage, and had himself written _the moral of man's wit_ and _the dialogue of dives_, there can be no doubt that robert wilson is roscius, and that he was an actor in _edward iii._ in . it was acted by pembroke's company, and must have been acquired by lord strange's men with the other pembroke plays in . section vi. on the plays by other authors acted by shakespeare's company. during shakespeare's career, - , we only know of some two dozen plays having been produced by his "fellows," in addition to the three dozen included in his works; and of these, about two-fifths are anonymous, and have been at some time or other ascribed, in whole or part, to the great master. it is evident that he had the management of the playwriting for his house pretty nearly in his own hands, and that his method was the polar opposite to that of which we know most, viz., henslowe's. while the latter employed twelve poets in a year, who produced for the admiral's men a new play every fortnight or so, the chamberlain's company depended almost entirely on two poets at a time, and produced not more than four new plays a year. hence the explanation of the vastly higher character of the globe plays as compared with the fortune: hence also the explanation of the small pay and needy condition of the latter, and their jealousy of the rapid advancement in wealth and position of shakespeare, who had virtually a monopoly of play-providing for his company. it would be out of place to discuss at length the plays written for it by jonson, dekker, &c., but fuller notice of the anonymous plays is due to the reader. they have, strange to say, never yet been treated as a complete group; and yet surely as much may be learned by considering shakespeare's theatrical surroundings, the plays in which he acted, and which he probably had more or less suggested, supervised, or revised, as by elaborately working out the debtor and creditor details of his malt-bills. i will treat of these plays in nearly chronological order. . _fair em_ is the earliest play we certainly know of as acted by lord strange's company. it is alluded to by greene in his address prefixed to his _farewell to folly_. he quotes as abusing of scripture, "a man's conscience is a thousand witnesses," and "love covereth the multitude of sins," and says these words were used by "two lovers on the stage arguing one another of unkindness." greene's tract was written and entered s. r. st june , but not published till , when the address which mentions his _mourning garment_ (s. r. november , ) was added. _fair em_ dates, therefore, late in . it was probably written by r. wilson, and is certainly not a romantic, but a satirical play; else why should greene have been offended at it? in sc. of _the three ladies of london_, produced before , wilson uses the expression, "i, conscience, am a thousand witnesses," and in his _three lords and three ladies of london_, acted at court, christmas - , sc. , "love doth cover heaps of cumbrous evils." in order to explain the nature of the satire in _fair em_, it is necessary to investigate a hitherto unnoticed identification of worcester's company with the admiral's, of the highest importance for stage history as determining the actors in marlowe's early plays. on twelfth day - , "the servants of the admiral and the lord chamberlain" acted at court, _i.e._ the players of lord charles howard, who held both these offices. mr. halliwell (_illustrations_, p. ) confused this chamberlain with lord hunsdon, and takes the entry to refer to _two_ companies. i sent him a correction of these and many other blunders, which he has never rectified, years ago--a fact which i should not notice had he not publicly complained that, with one or two exceptions, of whom i am not one, he had received no help of this kind. of this admiral's company in the plague year, , there is no trace in london; but in that year, and that year only, a company travelled under the protection of the earl of worcester. they were licensed for this travel on th january, and were at leicester in the course of the year (shakespeare society's papers, iv.); their names were r. browne, j. tunstall (dunstan), e. allen, w. harryson, t. cooke, r. jones, e. browne, r. andrews; all of whom were licensed, together with hired men, t. powlton and w. paterson, "lord harbard's man," _i.e._ a member of the company of herbert earl of pembroke: a scratch company evidently, but containing names of celebrated london actors. in and , the admiral's men acted in london publicly, and at christmas - at court. on d january - , alleyn and jones (acting evidently for the company) dissolved partnership, and alleyn bought up their properties and play-books. in november the admiral's men were playing about the city, and not at the curtain, where they had probably produced _tamberlain_, _faustus_, _orlando_, _alcazar_, and _marius and sylla_; and in their court performance on d december were reduced to showing "feats of activity." in r. brown and jones went abroad and acted at leyden in october. they returned, and on december and february the admiral's men acted at court for the last time before the reconstitution of their company in . already r. brown, j. broadstreet, t. sackville, and r. jones had obtained a pass from lord c. howard, the admiral, their patron, to travel to germany by way of holland, and a company acted there till under sackville. jones returned to england and joined the reconstituted admiral's company under allen in . alleyn had never relinquished the title of admiral's servant, even when in lord strange's service in . putting these facts together, can there be any doubt that the service under worcester was merely temporary, and that in the list of we have that of the principal actors in the admiral's company? mr. r. simpson, to whom we owe so much as a discoverer of problems to be solved, and so little for their solution, rightly stated that _fair em_ was a satirical play, and that manvile (or mandeville, the lying traveller) meant greene, and mounteney the aspiring marlowe. he was wrong in identifying valingford with shakespeare--he was peele (valing, an old castle or peele--_camden_)--and doubly wrong in making william conqueror kempe. robert of windsor, his travelling name, points to robert browne; and it was to browne's company that marlowe and peele had been attached, not to kempe's. the names william conqueror and marquess lubeck were probably names of characters which had been acted by browne and jones, perhaps in the play of _william conqueror_, which was on the stage as an old play in . fair em of manchester is no doubt, as mr. simpson says, lord strange's company of players. [often, but wrongly, dated c. ]. _the birth of merlin, or the child hath found his father_, was published in as "written by w. shakespeare and w. rowley." rowley probably revised the play for a revival c. , but in the main it is manifestly by another hand. the comic scenes with joan goto't may be rowley's, but the serious parts are palpably middleton's. i owe the suggestion of his authorship to mr. p. a. daniel. a ballad on the subject was entered on th may , s. r. in ii. _b_ iii. we have some very interesting imitations of shakespeare. cutting out the rowley additions in iii. . , i would ask the reader to carefully compare the remaining parts of ii. _b_, beginning with _aurel_. "artesia, dearest love," iii. . . . , with such passages of shakespeare as they call to memory: _e.g._ iii. , "this world is but a mask," &c., with _as you like it_, ii. . , &c., and iii. . - with _lear_, iii. . - . compare especially the definition of a crab as "a creature that goes backward" in ii. , with _hamlet_, ii. . , "if like a crab you could go backward." crab as the name of an animal does not occur elsewhere in shakespeare. i believe the early plays on this subject, _vortiger_, th december , and _uter pendragon_, th april , in henslowe's diary, to be alluded to by jonson in his prologue to _every man in his humour_, -- "to make a child now swaddled to proceed man: and then shoot up _in one beard and weed_ past threescore years." . june. _a [merry] knack to know a knave_ was acted as a new play at the rose by edward alleyn and his company (_i.e._ lord strange's) "with kempe's _merriments of the men of gotham_." the introduction of honesty as a principal character points to r. wilson the elder as the author. it was certainly not written by greene and nash, as mr. simpson supposes. besides this play and a number of revivals, mostly of plays of the queen's company (see my _shakespearian study_, p. ), lord strange's men acted this season certain new plays: on march , _ henry vi._; april , _titus and vespasian_ (these have been already noticed): april , _d_. _tambercame_; may , _the taner of denmark_; and in , january , _the gelyous [jealious] comedy_; january , _the guise_ (_i.e._ marlowe's _massacre of paris_). . july , _locrine_ was entered s. r. and published in as "newly set forth, overseen, and corrected by w. s." i see no reason to infer that w. s. is william shakespeare. the play was written, according to mr. simpson, by tilney in . i rather think for him by g. peele. shakespeare has no concern with it further than the letters w. s. indicate. [possibly ]. _a 'larum for london, or the siege of antwerp_, was acted about this time. it was published in , but entered s. r. th may . the title at once points it out as a moralising play, of the same class as _a looking-glass for london_; didactic as to politics. i believe it to be by the same author, t. lodge. the fear of a spanish invasion is evident in the play. in july the spaniards made a descent on cornwall and burned mouse hole, neulin, and penzance. this is the most likely time for any real danger to london from the spaniards to have been apprehended. lodge, probably in the next year, wrote _the taming of the shrew_ (afterwards altered by shakespeare) for the chamberlain's company. the seldom-used word _villiaco_, found in this play, occurs in _ henry vi._, iv. , in the part i assign to lodge. . _the life and death of sir thomas more_ was certainly acted in this year. that this also was a political play is evident from the numerous alterations made in the ms. by e. tylney, master of the revels. he specially objected to all passages directed against the french; and cut out entirely scene , the insurrection scene. this must have alluded too closely to events of the time. now on th june there was an insurrection of the london prentices, suppressed by the then lord mayor just in the same way as that in the play by sheriff more. (see maitland and stowe under that date.) moreover, in october hartford was imprisoned in the tower for contempt, and threatened with loss of his title, just as more is in the play, which was no doubt acted while he was in prison (aikin's _elizabeth_, chap, xxiv.) i have previously noted the certainty of this play being acted by the chamberlain's players, t. goodale being one of the actors. it was probably written chiefly by lodge; but some scenes, such as scene with the lifter and scenes , , with faulkner and the players, bear unmistakable marks of another hand, the same, i think, as the author of _lord cromwell_. it is a singular play, containing a comedy, scenes - , and a tragedy, scenes - , in one. this leads me to conjecture that it is the same play as was played by the paul's children before james and the king of denmark, th july . this contained a comedy and tragedy, and was called _abuses_. i need hardly say that this title is specially appropriate to _sir t. more_. it pleased the kings, as was to be expected, more than it did the authorities under elizabeth. we know that some plays of the chamberlain's company passed into the hands of the paul's boys, _e.g._ _satiromastix_. the part of justice suresby is probably the one alluded to in _the return from parnassus_, iv. , where kempe tells philomusus (lodge) that his face "would be good for a foolish mayor or a foolish justice of peace." in the same scene, studioso (drayton) is made to recite from _richard iii._ and _jeronymo_, both which plays were still acted by the chamberlain's men in ; so that drayton was looked on in as a tragedian, lodge as a comedian. this agrees with meres' classification of them in . nevertheless it is certain that both of them produced both tragedies and comedies. - . _the merry devil of edmonton_, acted at the globe, and therefore still on the stage in , was closely connected with the early form of _ henry iv._, in which falstaff was called oldcastle (see _supra_, p. ). coxeter says that it was ascribed in an old ms. of the play to michael drayton. no doubt it was written by him. the character of the host, and indeed all the play, are so like parts of _sir john oldcastle_, which we know to have been partly written by drayton, that it is not possible to doubt the identity of authorship. that play was written by munday (i. ; v. --end), wilson (? i. ; ii. ; iii. ), hathaway (? iii. ; v. ), and drayton, who probably was the plotter and chief composer. _the merry devil_ was entered s. r. d october . the entry on th april refers to the prose history by thomas brewer. nevertheless that entry has been confidently adduced by mr. halliwell and others as proof that drayton did not write the play (see halliwell's _dictionary of old plays_ under _merry devil_): which as printed is evidently greatly abridged. all the part relating to smug's taking the place of st. george as the sign of the inn, for instance, which is found in the prose story, must have been cut out, though an allusion to it is left in the end of the play. this alteration was probably made c. - , as in the _black book_ (s. r. d march ) a revival of the play contemporaneous with _the woman killed with kindness_ is alluded to. it remained popular even to : jonson's prologue to _the devil is an ass_ calls it "your dear delight." that play is of a somewhat similar nature, founded on the adventures of a devil incarnate; so also are dekker's _if this be not a good play the devil's in it_, and haughton's _grim the cobler of croydon, or the devil and his dame_ ( th may ). in this last, which gives a posterior limit of date, robin goodfellow calls himself "merry devil," and is no doubt intended as a satire on drayton, as is also the robin goodfellow of _wily beguiled_, . in _sir giles goosecap_ by chapman, the continued usage by goosecap of the phrases "tickle the vanity on't" and "we are all mortal" points to drayton as the person ridiculed under that name; while in _ henry iv._, ii. l. , falstaff uses the exact phrase of smug in scene of "tickling the catastrophe." another point of connection with shakespearian satire of this date is found in the term hungarian, scene , which occurs in _merry wives_, i. . , and nowhere else in shakespeare. the great similarity of the hosts in these two plays has been often noted. there is much confusion in the christian names in our present version of the _merry devil_, an indication of revision. drayton's first connection with the chamberlain's company was in my opinion his writing the induction for _the taming of the shrew_ in , afterwards altered by shakespeare. _the merry devil_ was entered as shakespeare's on s. r. th september , probably on account of the similarity of title with _the merry wives of windsor_; and this similarity does point to a connection, though not of authorship, between these plays. the oldcastle play, acted th march at lord hunsdon's, was probably _the merry devil_. . _the seven deadly sins_, an old play plotted for the queen's company by tarleton, was revived. i have had already occasion to refer to the plot of this play, which is extant at dulwich college. - . _a warning for fair women_ was entered s. r. th november , and printed as "lately divers times acted" by the chamberlain's men. its title, so like _a looking-glass for london_ and _a 'larum for london_, its didactic character, its induction, with history, tragedy, and comedy for actors, so like that to _mucedorus_, and its style and metre all point to thomas lodge as the author. as a murder-play it should be compared with _arden of feversham_, _the yorkshire tragedy_, and _two tragedies in one_. plays on similar subjects, such as _page of plymouth_, by dekker and jonson, september ; _the tragedy of merry_, by haughton and day, december ; _the tragedy of orphans_, by chettle, november ; and perhaps _the stepmother's tragedy_, by dekker and chettle, october , were very abundant just at this time. this seems to be lodge's final original production for the stage. - . _every man in his humour_ in its first form, with the italian names, in the latter part of , and his _every man out of his humour_ in the spring of , both by jonson, were acted by the chamberlain's men. jonson then left them and wrote for the children of the chapel. . _satiromastix_ was written by dekker against jonson's _poetaster_ for the chamberlain's men, and acted first by them and afterwards by the paul's boys. . _the chronicle history of thomas lord cromwell_ was entered s. r. th august . this is clearly a political play, in which the career of cromwell earl of essex shadows forth another earl of essex, of much greater interest to an audience of . one scene, iii. , reminds us strongly of scene in _sir t. more_; and the whole play is very like the part of _sir john oldcastle_ assigned by me to drayton. in act iv. the chorus apologises for the omission of wolsey's life. that had, in fact, been treated already by chettle in august , and by chettle, munday, drayton, and smith in november , in two plays for the admiral's men. drayton's last work for them was done in may and _cromwell_ was probably acted in june. the second edition, , had "by w.s." on the title. this was clearly an attempt, like the "by w. sh." in the edition of the older _john_, to father the play on shakespeare after his retirement from theatrical life. it has been supposed that wentworth smith is indicated. this is most unlikely. smith was a hack writer for henslowe, - , not one scrap of whose work was ever thought worth publishing; and that he, at the same date that he was a "novice" in the admiral's, should have been an independent author for the chamberlain's, is one of the plausible figments that will not be received by any one acquainted with stage history. if w.s. are authentic initials, w. sly is a more likely claimant. . _the london prodigal_ was published in , with the name of william shakespeare on the title-page. this surely shows some connection of shakespeare with its authorship. it is true that in his name had been attached to _sir john oldcastle_ in one of the editions then printed, and that he could not have written, or been concerned with the writing of, that play; but the peculiar relation in which it stands to his historical plays places it in a very different category from a play which was acted by his own company, and over the publication of which he may be supposed to have had some control, direct or indirect. perhaps he "plotted" it. at the same time it should be noticed that the publisher, butter, was the same man who issued the quarto of _lear_ in , which was certainly derived from an authentic copy, however carelessly printed; while pavier, who published _oldcastle_, was notoriously an issuer of surreptitious and piratical editions. this play is certainly by the same hand as the _cromwell_. in iii. , "and where nought is the king doth lose his due," with which compare _cromwell_, ii. , "and where nought is the king must lose his right," is taken from nash's _unfortunate traveller_ (p. , grosart's reprint), "when it is not to be had the king must lose his right." compare, also, "pardon, dear father, the follies that are past," v. , with _cromwell_, iv. chorus, "pardon the errors are already past," and the passing of st. george's inn in i. with the _merry devil_ plot. the date of production is certainly . the words "under the king," ii. , and the allusion to armin the actor, who took the part of matthew flowerdale, "so young an armin," v. , forbid an earlier date. this last allusion, by the bye, has never previously been explained. on the other hand, the allusions to cutting dick, ii. , _the devil and his dame_, iv. (mar. ), and to "wanton cressid," v. i. ( ), would lose much effect at a later date. the name greenshield was adopted from this play in the "comical satire" of _northward ho_, , as frescobald was in _the honest whore_, , from _cromwell_. . _sejanus_, by jonson, was acted this year. jonson had returned to the chamberlain's men from the admiral's, for whom he wrote after leaving the chapel children in ; but this play being a political satire on leicester got the company into trouble, and he again left them for the children of the revels. see _supra_, p. . . _the malcontent_, by marston, was acted "with the additions played by the king's majesty's servants" by webster, and entered s. r. th july. this play belonged to the revels' children, and was appropriated in retaliation for their playing _jeronymo_, which was the property of the king's men. (see the induction.) compare p. . . _gowry_, already noticed, was performed this year. - . _the miseries of enforced marriage_, by george wilkins, was entered s. r. st july . it was founded on the life of mr. caverley, the hero of _the yorkshire tragedy_, and the play ends with a reconciliation before october , when his third child was born, and dating about january or february, just before the accession of king james. this play was written before . mr. p.a. daniel discovered the identity of story in it and in _the yorkshire tragedy_. the share of g. wilkins in the authorship of _timon_ and _pericles_ has already been noticed. he left the king's company for the queen's in , before publishing the present play. he is not the g. wilkins who died in : mr. w.c. hazlitt's statement in his _handbook_ to that effect is a mistake. . _a yorkshire tragedy_, founded on the same story, was certainly acted soon after the execution of caverley, th august . the murdered children were buried in april. the prose account of caverley's trial was entered s. r. th august, and the story of his life was printed by v. s. (valentine simmes) in the same year. the play was entered s. r. d may , and printed as by william shakespeare. i cannot think that this was unauthorised. compare the parallel instance of _the london prodigal_. was the author his brother edmund; and did shakespeare assist in or revise his work? (see p. .) the "young mistress" of scene is the clare harcup of the _enforced marriage_, and her decline is inconsistent with her death in that play, but in accordance with facts. together with three other probably similar short plays it was acted as _all's one, or one of the four plays in one_. . _volpone or the fox_, by jonson, was acted in this year. - . _mucedorus_, an old play, originally written, i think, for the queen's company by t. lodge, was revived under exceptional circumstances, with additions at court. from the added part at the end of the play it appears that "a lean hungry neagre (meagre) cannibal," "a scrambling raven with a needy beard," had written "a comedy" for the king's players, containing "dark sentences pleasing to factious brains," and that information had been given to "a puissant magistrate," and that the players feared "great danger or at least restraint" in consequence. moreover, this "unwilling error" had been lately "presented" to the king: nevertheless, not being "boys," but "men," they had avoided the "trap," apologised, and been pardoned. the only known new comedy, not shakespeare's, produced by the king's men between and was jonson's _fox_. it contains a good deal, even in its present state, that must have been unpalatable at court, especially on monopolies and spies; and jonson altered his plays so much after performance for publication, that it is dangerous to draw conclusions as to what the play may have originally contained. one thing in it, however, was particularly "obnoxious to construction," the miraculous "oglio del scoto," which, in the case of one who was this same year imprisoned for satirising the scots in _eastward ho_, might well be taken as a gird at the scotch king's miraculous charisma in treating for the king's evil. it is to the _eastward ho_ affair that the "trap for boys, not men," alludes; and the meagreness and "needy beard" plainly indicate jonson as the "raven" (corbaccio) who wrote the comedy. in accordance with this view stands the fact that on the christmas succeeding this unfortunate performance of - there was no court masque produced by jonson. the date hitherto assigned to the "additions" in _mucedorus_ has been , because the edition of that year was issued as it was acted before the king on shrove sunday night. but there was no court performance in the - winter on account of the plague. the date is therefore impossible; the words on the title were probably repeated in the usual way from the edition, of which, though mentioned in beauclerc's _catalogue_, , no copy unfortunately is extant. of the authorship of the original play, with its induction, "cooling-card" mark, and many similarities to _marius and sylla_, there can be no doubt: it was written by lodge. who wrote the "additions" in - it would be hard to say: perhaps wilkins. - . _the revenger's tragedy_ by cyril tourneur (?) was entered s. r. th october , and probably acted not long before. the second _maiden's tragedy_, licensed in , which we know to have been acted by the king's men, was probably by the same author. in jonson returned to the king's men (he had been writing for the revels' children since he left, after producing _volpone_), and his _alchemist_ was acted in that year; in his _cataline_, and beaumont and fletcher's _philaster_, _maid's tragedy_, and _king and no king_; c. webster's _duchess of malfy_ was produced. the further prosecution of this subject belongs to a life of fletcher rather than of shakespeare. section vii. early english plays in germany. the importance of the performance of english plays in germany and its bearings on our own stage history has never been duly estimated. this is owing to the fact that the groups of such plays have not been treated as wholes, only isolated references to single dramas having been occasionally made by our critics. i must here confine myself to such groups as have reference to the productions of shakespeare. in - a company of englishmen acted at dresden, and a list of their performances has fortunately been preserved (cohn, _shakespeare in germany_, p. ). this company appears from their christian names to have been the company of the revels, which broke up in in the plague-time. in the _runaway's answer_, , to dekker's _rod for runaways_, which was directed against those who left london for fear of the plague, the players say, "we can be bankrupts on this side and gentlemen of a company beyond the sea: we burst at london and are pieced up at rotterdam." the dresden company were robert pickleherring [r. lee] and two boys; jacob der hesse, and johan eydtwardtt (two germans); aaron the dancer (probably a german jew); thomas die jungfrau [t. basse], john [cumber], william the wardrobe-keeper (probably a german), the englishman, the redhaired, and four boys. the other members of the revels' company can be traced in england; and although robert, thomas, and john are common christian names, they are not to be found in conjunction in any other list of english players of the date. the plays acted by these men were the following:-- . _duke of mantua and duke of verona._ comedy. . _christabella._ c. . _amphitryon._ c. . _romeo and julietta._ tragedy. [founded on shakespeare's play of ; extant in german ms., and printed by cohn.] . _duke of florence._ tragi-comedy. [not massinger's play, which is of ten years' later date.] . _king of spain and viceroy of portugal._ c. [kyd's _jeronymo_, c. .] . _julius cæsar._ t. [query, the old play mentioned by gosson in , or the admiral's play of , or shakespeare's, or the admiral's of , or the oxford of , or chapman's, or the old play on which chapman's is founded? the last most likely.] . _crysella._ c. . _duke of ferrara._ c. . _somebody and nobody._ t.c. [printed in german, ; extant in an altered form, by heywood in my judgment, as played by queen anne's men in english; published c. . in its original form acted c. .] . _king of denmark and king of sweden._ t. c. [_clyomon and clamydes_. ? by r. wilson, c. .] . _hamlet, prince of denmark._ t. [from kyd's old play, c. ; extant in modernised ms. in germany; printed in cohn. the induction with night and the furies is quite in kyd's manner.] . _orlando furioso._ c. [greene's play, c. .] . _king of england and king of scotland._ c. [greene (and lodge)'s _james iv._, .] . _hieronymo, marshal of spain._ t. [kyd's _spanish tragedy_, c. .] . _haman and queen esther._ t. c. [printed in german, , from an english play acted in by the chamberlain's men, but an _old_ play then; originally not later than . compare the interlude in kirkman's _wits_, which was probably founded on it. the german play ought to be made accessible to english readers.] . _the martyr dorothea._ t. [perhaps from a play by dekker and massinger, revived for the revels' company between and . this is the only play in this list to which i can assign a definite date later than . but were both taken from an older play?] . _dr. faust._ t. [marlowe's play, .] . _king of arragon._ t. c. [greene's _alphonsus_, c. .] . _fortunatus._ t. [printed in german, , as _comedy of fortunatus and his purse and wishing cap_, in which appear first three dead souls as spirits, and afterwards the virtues and shame. evidently from the first part of _fortunatus_ by dekker, as acted, d february , as an _old_ play. it was probably written c. . this play like ( .) ought to be made accessible to english readers.] . _joseph, the jew of venice._ c. [from another early play of dekker's, c. . the german version is extant in ms. in the imperial library at vienna, and ought to be edited and translated. the jew, however, is therein called barabbas, and there are three suitors, as in shakespeare's play, but no caskets. dekker's play was entered th september on s. r.] . _the dextrous thief._ t.c. . _duke of venice._ t.c. . _barrabas, the jew of malta._ t. [marlowe's play, .] . _old proculus._ c. . _lear, king of england._ t. [from the old queen's play, c. . yet it is strange that it should be called a tragedy. it would hardly be shakespeare's play, as no other of so late date occurs in the list.] . _the godfather._ t.c. . _the prodigal son._ c. [printed in german, . translated in simpson's _school of shakespeare_. probably from an old play revived by heywood for derby's men c. , but originally founded on greene's _mourning garment_, , and written (for what company?) c. . so i conjecture.] . _the graf of angiers._ c. . _the rich man._ t. [acted on th september as _the rich man and the poor lazarus_. perhaps from a very old play by ralph radcliffe before ; more likely from the moral by the player (? r. wilson) in greene's _groatsworth of wit_, , who wrote the moral of _man's wit_ and the dialogue of _dives_, and played in _delphrigus_, _the king of fairies_, _the twelve labors of hercules_, and _the highway to heaven_.] it appears from this list that while only one, if any, of these plays, _dorothea_, which was probably taken with them by the revels' company in , can be assigned to a comparatively late date with certainty, the majority are early productions, anterior to . bearing in mind that there were a large number of plays published before which might have been used without fear of any opposition from companies in england, it is clear that in germany the preference was given to older plays, which must have been imported at an early date, either by leicester's players in , by pembroke's in , or worcester's [admiral's] in and . leicester's returned to england in and pembroke's c. ; but worcester's, or rather a detachment from the admiral's, were permanently established in germany. e. brown and r. jones indeed came back to england; but thomas sackville and john broadstreet are traceable in germany, the latter to and the former to . there is little doubt that the _hamlet_ and _romeo_, in their german versions, are from early plays, anterior to . this conclusion is confirmed by the list of plays published in germany in , "acted by the english in germany at royal, electoral, and princely courts:"-- . _queen esther and haughty haman._ c. [ . in previous list.] . _the prodigal son_, "in which despair and hope are cleverly introduced." c. [ . in previous list.] . _fortunatus and his purse and wishing cap_, "in which appear first three dead souls as spirits, and afterwards the virtues and shame." c. [ . in previous list.] . _a king's son from england and a king's daughter from scotland._ c. [_serule and astræa_; probably the same as _serule and hypolita_, acted .] . _sidonia and theagine._ c. . _somebody and nobody._ c. [ . in previous list.] . _julio and hypolita._ t. [query, _philippo and hypolita_, acted as an _old_ play at the rose, th july ; similar in plot to _the gentlemen of verona_.] . _titus andronicus._ t. [not our extant play, but the _titus and vespasian_ acted by lord strange's men, april .] . _the beautiful mary and the old cuckold._ a merry jest. . in which the clown makes merry pastime with a stone. i am not acquainted with ayres's plays; but it appears from cohn (p. ) that among them are _mahomet the turkish emperor_ (from peele's play, c. ), _the greek emperor at constantinople and his daughter pelimperia with the hanged horatio_ (kyd's _spanish tragedy_, ); _valentine and orson_ (from an old english play s. r. d may ); _edward iii., king of england, and elisa countess of warwick_ (from marlowe's play, : philip waimer had already dramatised the same subject at danzig in ); _the beautiful phenicia_ (on the same story as _much ado_, and strongly confirming the identity of that play with _love's labour's won_, : cupid enters in person, and shoots count tymborus, the benedick of the german version); _the two brothers of syracuse_ (from the _comedy of errors_, c. ); _the beautiful sidea_ (containing some incidents showing that it came from some source in common with that of the _tempest_, but certainly not from that play direct); and _king of cyprus_ (founded on the same story as _the dumb knight_ by machin and markham, c. ). cohn does not give exact dates of authorship, but is of opinion that we should not assign to any a year later than ; and in ayres died. here again we meet with the same phenomenon--acquaintance with many english plays of date anterior to ; but not with any one that can be shown to be later. no doubt ayres's knowledge of english plays was obtained from the worcester's (admiral's) company, who went over in - . yet further, in the tragedy of _an adulteress_ by duke henry julius of brunswick, printed , we find the plot of _the merry wives_ almost identically reproduced (see cohn, p. , &c.) i do not see, however, so much likeness between his _vincentius ladislaus_ and _much ado_. as regards shakespearian chronology, it results from this examination of english plays in germany that there is no positive evidence of english plays of later date than having been acted there before ; that there is evidence that many (a score at least) of date not later than were acted between and ; that these plays were probably among those imported by worcester's (admiral's) players in ; and that in the list are contained _the comedy of errors_, _romeo and juliet_, _the merry wives_, _the gentlemen of verona_, and _love's labours won_, _i.e._ every play by shakespeare except _love's labour's lost_, that is in this treatise placed at a date not later than ; besides kyd's _hamlet_, marlowe's _edward iii_., and other plays with which shakespeare was indirectly connected. appendix. tables. appendix. in table i. i give the dates of the stationers' registers entries of shakespeare's plays as collected in , the printers and publishers of the earliest extant edition of each, and the dates of all known subsequent editions anterior to the folio. a. appended to a date means anonymous, _i.e._ published without the author's name; f. means that the edition was used by the folio editors as copy to print from. the relative popularity of the plays will be in some measure seen by a glance at this table. the most popular were _richard iii._ (six editions in sixteen years); _i henry iv._ (six editions); _edward iii._ (five editions in twenty years); _richard ii._ (four editions in nineteen years); _henry v._ (three editions in nine years). all these were histories. next to the histories rank the tragedies _hamlet_, _romeo and juliet_, and _pericles_: the other great tragedies, _lear_, _othello_, and the comedies being decidedly less to the popular taste than the histories. the entries of change of copyright will be found in their places in table v. table ii. gives similar information for every known extant play not of shakespeare's authorship in which he may have been an actor or reviser. _edward iii._ appears in both these tables. the extreme popularity of _mucedorus_ is very noticeable. table iii. gives the number of court performances in each year for such companies as are known to have been playing in london. from this table it is evident that up to the queen's men were the most important of all; in other words, that greene was the chief court stage poet, and held the position formerly occupied by lyly, who wrote for the chapel children before the public theatrical companies had obtained the prominent place. his chief rival was marlowe of the admiral's company. but after lord strange's company takes the lead and keeps it, which means that shakespeare was the principal court stage writer till . this throws new light on the relations of greene, shakespeare, and their respective companies. but this table comprises, in fact, a compendium of the whole stage history of the time; and as the current versions of this history by collier, halliwell, and others are replete with blunders, it may be well to give a very short summary of the results of my investigations--proofs, where lengthy, of some minor details being necessarily reserved for a future publication. column i. concerns one company only: as lord leicester's it was acting in london in ; in it was acting on the continent; in - it was travelling about england; after leicester's death it began in to act in london, and was patronised by lord strange, who became earl of derby in : after his death in , henry carey, lord hunsdon, the lord chamberlain, became its patron, who died in ; they then passed to his heir, george carey: in they were patented as the king's men, and retained that title till the closing of the theatres. column ii. the admiral's men were abroad from to ; in they were assigned to prince henry, and after his death in to the palsgrave. the earl of hertford's men, who appear once in this column, were not a regular london company, but probably invited to play this once at court while the admiral's were abroad, in consequence of the queen having been entertained by hertford in the preceding year's progress. column iii. queen elizabeth's company, formed , took the lead till : they only reappear in conjunction with sussex in - , when both companies vanish from the london stage. about derby's company appears in london: it became worcester's in , and was assigned to queen anne in . column iv. the earl of oxford's "boys" were in london in ; they travelled in the plague year, and are almost certainly the same company who reappear in london in as pembroke's. by marlowe's aid they prospered a year or two, but after his death became insignificant, and are only dimly traceable to . in the chapel children are stated to have occupied blackfriars, but till no play is traceable to them. in - they were reorganised as the children of the revels, and again in as a new company under the same name: in they were again reorganised as the second lady elizabeth's company, the first of that name, set up in , having broken up. column v. the paul's boys were inhibited c. , re-established , finally put down . the duke of york's men were established , and at prince henry's death in took the name of the prince of wales' men. the reader will observe that never more than five companies existed contemporaneously; and scarcely ever more than two of considerable importance. the statements of collier and halliwell are grossly exaggerated. in table iv. every entry of a play that i can find in the stationers' registers is extracted with all necessary fulness. the only point requiring explanation is that the capital letters after the publishers' names indicate the names of the licensers:--t.=tylney; b.=sir g. buck; s.=segar, his deputy; a.=sir john astley; h.=sir henry herbert; t.=thomas herbert, his deputy; bl.=blagrave, also his deputy. where the master of the revels or his deputy was not the licenser, the insertion of the wardens' names, &c., would have needlessly encumbered the tables. the spelling has been modernised, except in proper names, &c., where it is of advantage to retain the old forms. these tables afford for the first time complete means of estimating shakespeare's influence, in i. on the reading public positively; in ii. as compared with his co-workers; in iii. at court; in iv. as compared with writers for other companies. table v., of transfers of copyright, is, i fear, in spite of much labour, incomplete. notifications of omission will be welcome and duly acknowledged with gratitude. tables. table i.--quarto editions of shakespeare's plays. +--------------+------------------------+------------------------+ | | | | |date, s. r. |for whom entered, s. r. |name of play. | +--------------+------------------------+------------------------+ | - feb. |john danter |titus andronicus |_a_ | - mar. |thomas myllington |york and lancaster, i. |_b_ | | | | | ... | ... |richard duke of york |_c_ | dec. |cuthbert burby |edward iii. |_d_ | ... | ... |romeo and juliet ( ) |_e_ | aug. |andrew wise |richard ii. |_f_ | | | | | oct. |andrew wise |richard iii. |_g_ | | | | | - feb. |andrew wise | henry iv. |_h_ | july |james roberts |merchant of venice. |_i_ | ... | ... |love's labour's lost |_j_ | ... | ... |romeo and juliet ( ) |_k_ | | | | | aug. | ... |as you like it |_l_ | | | | | aug. |"set over" to thomas |henry v. |_m_ | |pavier | | | aug. |andrew wise and william |{much ado about nothing}|_n_ | |aspley |{ henry iv. } | | oct. |thomas fisher |midsummer night's dream |_o_ | | | | | oct. |thomas haies |merchant of venice |_p_ | - jan. |john busby (with |merry wives of windsor |_q_ | |assignment | | | |to arthur johnson) | | | april |thomas pavier | , henry vi. and |_r_ | | |titus andronicus | | july |james roberts |revenge of hamlet ( ) |_s_ | ... | ... |hamlet ( ) |_t_ | - feb. |james roberts |troylus and cressida |_u_ | | | | | | | | | nov. |na. butter: jo. busby |king lear |_v_ | may |edward blount |{pericles }|_w_ | | |{anthony and cleopatra }| | - jan. |ri. bonion; hen. whalley|troylus and cressida |_x_ | | | | | ... | ... |pericles |_y_ | oct. |thomas walkley |othello |_z_ +--------------+------------------------+------------------------+ +-----------------------+-----------------------------------------+ |printer and publisher | dates of extant editions. | |of earliest edition | | |extant. | | +-----------------------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ _a_|by j. r. for edward | ... | a.| ... | ... | a.| ... | |white | | | | | | | _b_|by thomas creede for | a.| a.| ... | ... | ...} | | |thomas millington | | | | | } | a.| _c_|by p.s. for thomas | a.| a.| ... | ... | ...} | | |millington | | | | | | | _d_| ... for cuthbert burby| a.| a.| ... | a.| a.| a.| _e_|by john danter | a.| ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | _f_|by valentine simmes for| a.| | ... | | f.| ... | | andrew wise | | | | | | | _g_|by valentine sims for | a.| | | | | | |andrew wise | | | | | | | _h_|by p.s. for andrew wise| | | | | f.| | _i_|by j. roberts | ... | | ... | ... | ... | ... | _j_|by w. w. for cuthbert | | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | |burby | | | | | | | _k_|by thomas creede for | ... | a.| ... | | ... | ... | |cuthbert burby | | | |a.f. | | | _l_|"stayed" with the two | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | |following plays. | | | | | | | |not printed. | | | | | | | _m_|by t. creede for t. | ... | a.| a.| a.| ... | ... | |millington and j. busby| | | | | | | _n_|by v. s. for andrew | ... | f.| ... | ... | ... | ... | |wise and william aspley| | ... | | ... | ... | ... | _o_|... for thomas fisher | ... | | ... | ... | ... | ... | |by james roberts | | ... | f.| ... | ... | ... | _p_|by j. r. for thomas | ... | f.| ... | ... | ... | ... | |hayes | | | | | | | _q_|by t. c. for arthur | ... | | ... | ... | ... | | |johnson | | | | | | | _r_|by assignment from | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | |thomas millington | | | | | | | _s_|... for n. l. and john | ... | | ... | ... | ... | ... | |trundell | | | | | | | _t_|by j. r. for n. l. | ... | ... | | | | ... | _u_|"to print when he hath | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | |gotten sufficient | | | | | | | |authority for it." | | | | | | | |not printed. | | | | | | | _v_|... for nathaniel | ... | ... | ... | | ... | ... | | butter | | | |_bis_ | | | _w_|not printed. | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | | | | | | | | | _x_|by g. eld for r. bonion| ... | ... | ... | | ... | ... | |and h. whalley | | | |_bis_ | | | _y_|... for henry gosson | ... | ... | ... | | | | | | | | |_bis_ | | | _z_|by n. o. for thomas | ... | ... | ... | ... | ... | | |walkley | | | | | | | +-----------------------+------+------+------+------+------+------+ table ii.--quarto editions of other plays performed by shakespeare's company. +---------------+-------------+----------------------+---------------+ |date. |for whom |name of play. |extant | | |entered. | |editions. | +---------------+-------------+----------------------+---------------+ | - jan. |r. jones |a knack to know | | | | |a knave | | |[ july |t. creede |locrine | ] | | dec. |c. burby |edward iii. | , , ,| | | | | , | | ... |w. jones |mucedorus | , , ,| | | | | , , | | | | | , , ,| | | | | , &c. | | nov. |w. aspley |warning for fair women| | | april |w. holme |every man out of | | | | |his humour |(printed for n.| | | | |ling) | | may |j. roberts |cloth breeches and { |these plays | | | |velvet hose { |were stayed, | | may |j. roberts |alarum to london { |sufficient | | | | |authority for | | | | |their printing | | | | |not being | | | | |forthcoming | | aug. |c. burby and |every man in | | | |w. burre |his humour | | | ... |e. white |massacre of paris |n.d. | | nov. |j. barnes |satiromastix | | | ... |w. ferbrand |alarum for london | | | aug. |w. cotton |lord cromwell | , | | july & |w. aspley and|malcontent | | | |t. thorpe | | | | nov. |e. blunt |sejanus | | | ... |n. butter |london prodigal | | | july |g. vincent |miseries of enforced | , , ,| | | |marriage | | | oct. |g. elde |revenger's tragedy | | | oct. |a. johnson |merry devil of | , , | | | |edmonton | | | ... | ... |volpone, or the fox | | | may |t. pavier |yorkshire tragedy | , | | ... |j. wright |fair em | | +---------------+-------------+----------------------+---------------+ table iii. - number of performances at court, - . +-------+----------------+-------------+-------------+ | | i. | ii. | iii. | +-------+----------------+-------------+-------------+ | - |leicester's |admiral's | queen's | | - | | | | | - | plague year | - | | | | | - | | | | | - |strange's | | | | - | | | | | - | |hertford's | | | - | | ... | ... | | - | plague year | - |chamberlain's |admiral's |-------------| | - | | | total | | - | | |-------------| | - | | | ... | | - | | | ... | | - | | | derby's | | - | | | | | - | | _richard ii. played for essex faction. | - | | |worcester's | | - |king's |p. henry's |q. anne's | | - | | | | | - | | | | | - | | | | | - | | | | | - | | | | | - | plague year | - | | | | | - | | | | | - | | | | | ... |... | ... | ... | | - | |palsgrave's | | | - | | | | | - | | | | +--------+---------------+-------------+-------------+ totals | | | | +--------+---------------+-------------+-------------+ +-------+------------+---------------+--------+ | iv. | v. | | +-------+------------+---------------+--------+ - |oxford's | paul's | total | - | | | | - |plague year | - | | | | - | | | | - |pembroke's | | | - | |--------- | | - | | sussex' | | - | |--------- | | - | | | | - | | ... | | - | | ... | | - | | ... | | - | | ... | | - |total | ... | | - |----------- | ... | | - |chapel | paul's | | - | | | - | | | | - |i revels | | | - | | | | - | | | | - | |--------- | | - | | total | | - | |--------- | | - | | d. of york's | | - | revels | | | - | l. eliz. | | | - | revels | | | ... | l. eliz. | ... | ... | - | | p. charles' | | - | | | | - | | | | +-------+------------+---------------+--------+ totals | | | | +-------+------------+---------------+--------+ table iv.--entries of plays in the stationers' registers, - . -------------+-------------------+----------------------------------- date. | for whom entered. | name of play. -------------+-------------------+----------------------------------- | | april | thomas cadman |sappio by lyllye: "if he get ye | |comedy lawfully allowed to him." nov. | thomas hackett |fedele et fortuna. the deceits in | |love discoursed in a commedia of | |il italian gent, and translated | |into english. april | gabriel cawood |tityrus and galaten. a comedy. oct. | richard jones |pageant before martin calthrop, l. | |mayor, th oct. , by g. peele. | |"upon condition that it may | |be licensed." july | richard jones |a comedy of the pleasant and stately | |moral of the three lords of london. aug. | richard jones |the two comical discourses of | |"tomberlein the cithian shepparde." july | richard jones |the hunting of cupid, by g. peele, | |m.a. of oxford. "provided always | |that, if it be hurtful to any other | |copy before licensed, then this | |to be void." oct. | mrs. broome, widow|endimion, galathea, midas: three | of william broome |comedies played before her majesty | |by the children of paul's. april | edward white |the tragedy of "arden of faversham | |and blackwall." oct. | abel jeffes |the spanish tragedy of "don horatio | |and bellmipeia." nov. | edward white |the tragedy of "salamon and perceda." july | william jones |the troublesome reign and lamentable | |death of edward ii. king of england, | |with the tragical fall of proud | |mortimer. oct. | abel jeffes |the chronicle of k. edward i. | |longshank, with his return out | |of the holy land: with the | |life of "leublen," rebel in | |wales, with the sinking of | |queen elinour. an enterlude. oct. | symond waterson |the tragedy of cleopatra. oct. | john danter |the life and death of jack | |straw. an enterlude. dec. | john danter |the history of orlando furioso, | |one of the peers of france. | |a playbook. - jan. | richard jones |a knack to know a knave, newly | |set forth as it hath sundry | |times been played by ned allen | |and his company, with kempe's | |applauded merriments of the men | |of goteham. a comedy. jan. | nicholas ling and |cornelia: thomas kydd being the | john busbye |author. feb. | john danter |a noble roman history of tytus | |andronicus. mar. | thomas creede |the looking glass for london, by | |thomas lodg and robert greene, | |gent. mar. | thomas myllington |the first part of the contention | |of the two famous houses of | |york and lancaster, with the | |death of the duke of suffolk, | |and the tragical end of the | |proud cardinal of winchester, | |with the notable rebellion of | |jack cade and the duke of york's | |first claim unto the crown. may | peter shorte |a pleasant conceited history | |called the "tayming of a shrowe." may | thomas creede |the pedlar's prophesy. "a | |pleabook." may | thomas creede |the famous victories of henry | |v., containing the honourable | |battle of agincourt. may | thomas creede |the scottish story of james iv., | |slain at flodden, intermixt | |with a pleasant comedy | |presented by oboron king of fairies. -------------+-------------------+----------------------------------- date. | for whom entered.| name of play. --------------+------------------+----------------------------------- | |the history of friar bacon and | |friar boungaye. | |the most famous chronicle | |history of leire king of | |england and his three may | edward white |daughters. |[previously |the famous history of john of |entered to adam |gaunte, son to king edward |islip, whose name |iii., with his conquest of |is crossed out] |spain and marriage of his two | |daughters to the kings of | |castile and portugale, &c. | |the book of david and bethshaba. | |a pastoral pleasant comedy of | |robin hood and little john. may |thomas gosson |the famous chronicle of henry | |i., with the life and death of | |bellin dunn, the first thief | |that ever was hanged in | |england. may |thomas millington |the famous tragedy of the rich | |jew of malta. may |john danter |the wounds of civil war lively | |set forth in the true tragedies | |of marius and scilla. may |cuthbert burbye, |the history of orlando furioso, |by consent of john|"so often as the same book | danter |shall be printed, the said | |john danter to have the | |imprinting thereof." june |cuthbert burbey |the cobbler's prophesy. june |cuthbert burby |mother bumbye. an enterlude. june |john danter |godfrey of bulloigne, with the | |conquest of jerusalem. an | |enterlude. june |john danter |the life and death of | |heliogabilus. an enterlude. june |thomas creede |the tragedy of richard iii., | |wherein is shown the death of | |edward iv., with the smothering | |of the two princes in the | |tower, with a lamentable end of | |shores' wife and the | |conjunction of the two houses | |of lancaster and york. an | |enterlude. july |thomas creede |the lamentable tragedy of | |locrine, the eldest son of king | |brutus, discoursing the wars | |of the britons, &c. april |cutbert burbye |the pynder of wakefeilde. an | |enterlude. april |raphe hancock |a pleasant conceipt called an | |owlde wife's tale. an | |enterlude. may |john hardye |the tragedy of ninus and | |semiramis, the first monarchs | |of the world. may |{thomas gosson }|valentine and orsson, played by |{raffe hancock }|her majesty's players. an enterlude. sept. |robert fynche |a woman in the moon. nov. |william blackwell |the true tragical history of | |king rufus i., with the life | |and death of belyn dun, the | |first thief that ever was | |hanged in england. nov. |cutbert burbye |the most rare and pleasant | |history of a knack to know an | |honest man. dec. |cutbert burbye |edward iii. and the black | |prince, their wars with king | |john of france. - jan. |{thomas gosson }|the first part of the famous |{john danter }|history of chinan of england. aug. |andrew wise |the tragedy of richard ii. oct. |andrew wise |the tragedy of king richard | |iii., with the death of duke | |of clarence. - feb. |andrew wise |the history of henry iv., with | |his battle of shrewsbury | |against henry hottspurre of | |the north, with the conceited | |mirth of sir john ffalstoff. july |james robertes |the marchaunt of venyce, or | |otherwise called the jewe of | |venyce. provided it be not | |printed without license first | |had from the lord chamberlain. aug. |william jones |the blinde begger of alexandrya. | |"upon condition that it belong | |to no other man." --------------+------------------+----------------------------------- date. | for whom entered.| name of play. -----------------+-------------------+------------------------------- oct. |william aspley |the tragic comedy of celestina, | |wherein are discoursed in most | |pleasant style many | |philosophical sentences and | |advertisements very necessary | |for young gentlemen, discovering | |the sleights of treacherous | |servants and the subtle carriages | |of filthy bawds. oct. |[william] ponsonbye|the tragi-comedy of the vertuous | |octavia, by samuell brandon. | | | |the first and second part of | |edward iv. and the tanner of | |tamworth, with the history of | |the life and death of master aug. |{john oxonbridge } |shore and jane shore his wife, |{john busbie } |as it was lately acted by the | |right honorable the earl of | |derby his servants. two plays. nov. |william aspley |a warning for fair women. - feb. |william aspley |old fortunatus in his new | |livery. a comedy. mar. |cuthbert burby |the play of patient grissell. mar. |william white |a famous history called | |valentine and orsson, played by | |her majesty's players. april |william holme |a comical satire of every man | |out of his humour. may |[james] robertes |a moral of cloth breeches and | |velvet hose, as it is acted by | |my lord chamberlain's servants. | |"provided that he is not to put | |it in print without further and | |better authority" [than the | |wardens']. may |[james] robertes |the allarum to london. "provided | |that it be not printed without | |further authority." jul |richard oliff |two plays or things; the one | |called the maid's | |metamorphosis: the other give | |a man luck and throw him into | |the sea. | | | |the first part of the history of | |the life of sir john | |oldcastell, lord cobham. | |the second and last part of the | |history of sir john oldcastell, aug. |thomas pavier |lord cobham, with his martyrdom. | |the history of the life and | |death of captain thomas | |stucley, with his marriage to | |alexander curtis his daughter, | |and his valiant ending of his | |life at the battle of alcazar. aug. |{[cuthbert] burby }|every man in his humour. a book. |{walter burre }| | |much ado about nothing aug. |{andrew wise } |the second part of the history |{william aspley } |of king henry iv., with the | |humours of sir john ffallstaff. | |written by master shakespere. | |two books. | | | |[the following entries occur in | |another part of the | |registers:--my lord | |chamberlain's men's plays | |entered. may |[james] robertes |a moral of cloth breeches and | |velvet hose. may |j[ames] robertes |allarum to london. | |as you like it. a book.} aug. | ... |henry v. a book. } | |every man in his }to be | |humour. a book. }stayed.] | |the comedy of much ado } | |about nothing. a book. } sept. |ffelix norton |jack drum's entertainment, a | |comedy, as it hath been | |divers times acted by the | |children of paul's. oct. |richard olyffe |the wisdom of doctor dodepole, | |played by the children of | |paul's. oct. |thomas ffyssher |a midsummer night's dream. oct. |richard oliffes |the weakest goeth to the walls. oct. |thomas haies |a book called the book of the | |merchant of venice.! "by | |consent of mr. roberts." -----------------+-------------------+------------------------------- date. | for whom entered.| name of play. --------------+--------------------+--------------------------------- oct. |{ [cuthbert] burby} |sommer's last will and testament, |{ walter burre } |presented by william sommers. nov. |william wood |love's metamorphosis, written by | |master john lylly, and played | |by the children of paul's. dec. |[william] leake |the downfal of robert earl of | |huntingdon, after called robin | |hood. dec. |[william] leake |the death of robert earl of | |huntingdon, with the lamentable | |tragedy of chaste mathilda. - jan. |thomas busshell |the play of doctor faustus. mar. |john harrison, jun. |god speed the plough. may |walter burre |narcissus, the fountain of self | |love. july |edward alde |the true history of george | |scanderbarge, as it was lately | |played by the right hon. the | |earl of oxenford his servants. aug. |william white |a comedy of a woman will have | |her will. oct. |{ matthew lownes } |the first and second parts of |{ thomas ffyssher } |the play called anthonio can | |melida. "provided that he get | |lawful license for it." nov. |john barnes |the untrussing of the humorous | |poets, by thomas decker. dec. |mathewe lownes |poetaster, or his arraignment. - jan. |john busby |an excellent pleasant and | |conceited comedy of sir john | |ffaulstof and the merry wives | |of windesor [assigned to | |arthure johnson at same date]. june |edward aldee |blurt master constable. july |james robertes |the revenge of hamlett prince | |denmark, as it was lately acted | |by the lord chamberlain his | |servants. aug. |william cotton |the life and death of the lord | |cromwell, as it was lately | |acted by the lord chamberlain | |his servants. - feb. |[james] robertes |troilus and cresseda, as it is | |acted by my lord chamberlain's | |men. "when he hath gotten | |sufficient authority for it." april |edward blunt |the works of william alexander | |of menstrie, containing the | |monarchic tragedies. july |{ william aspley } |the malcontent, tragicomædia. |{ thomas thorpe } |an interlude. [crossed out and | |re-entered.] nov. |edward blunt |the tragedy of sejanus, written | |by benjamin johnson. nov. |thomas man, jun. |the humours of the patient man, | |the longing wife, and the | |honest whore. nov. |{ [simon] waterson} |the tragedy of philotus, |{ edward blunt } | written by samuel daniell. dec. |nathaniel butter |the life and death of cavaliero | |dick boyer. - feb. |thomas pavyer |the history of richard | |whittington, his low birth, his | |great fortune, as it was played | |by the prince's servants. feb. |thomas pavyer |the fair maid of bristoe, | |played at hampton court by his | |majesty's players. feb. |nathanaell butter |king henry viii. an enterlude. | |"if he get good allowance | |before he begin to print it." mar. |henrie rockett |westward hoe, presented by the | |children of paul's. a comedy. | |"provided that he get further | |authority before it be | |printed." [crossed out.] may |simon stafford |the tragical history of king | |leir and his three daughters, | |as it was lately acted. | |assigned [at the same date] to | |john wright, "provided that | |simon stafford shall have the | |printing of this book." june |john hodgetes |the dutch courtesan, as it was | |lately presented at the | |blackfriars. "provided that he | |get sufficient authority | |before it be printed." july |nathaniel butter |if you know not me you know | | nobody. sept. |{ william aspley } |eastward ho. a comedy. |{ thomas thorp } | sept. |nathanael butter |the second part of if you know | | not me you know [no]body, with | | the building of the exchange. oct. |john wright |the return from pernassus, or | | the scourge of simony, publicly | | acted by the students in saint | | john's college, in cambridge. | | an enterlude. nov. |[simon] waterson |the queen's arcadia, presented | | by the university of oxon in | | christchurch. - jan. |edward blounte |a comedy called sir gyles | | goosecap, "provided that it be | | printed according to the copy | | whereunto master wilson's hand | | is at." mar. |john trundell |nobody and somebody. mar. |william cotton |the ffanne. a play. "provided | | that he shall not put the same | | in print before he get allowed | | lawful authority." mar. |eliazar edgar |the wonder of women, or the | | tragedy of sophonisba. | | | |the fleare. a comedy. "provided | | that they are not to print it may |{ john trundell } | till they bring good authority |{ john busbye } | and license for the doing | | thereof." [trundel's share was | | transferred to a. johnson, | | nov. , and buck's license | | obtained to print.] june |{john wright |julius cæsar's revenge. |{nathanael | |ffossbrook} | nov. |clement knighte |wily beguiled. - feb. |[simon] waterson |lingua. a comedy. [assigned to | | j. waterson, th aug. .] --------------+--------------------+--------------------------------- date. | for whom entered.|licenser.| name of play. -------------+-------------------+---------+------------------------- april |francis burton | b. |the tragical life and | | | death of claudius | | | tiberius nero. april |{nathanael butter }| b. |the whore of babilon. |{john trundell }| | april |henrie rockett | b. |the fair maid of the | | | exchange. may |arthur johnson | b. |the phenix. may |arthur johnson | b. |michaelmas term. a comedy. may | eleazar edgar | b. |the woman hater, as it | robert jackson | |hath been lately acted | | |by the children of paul's. june |william aspley | b. |the tragedy of busey | | |d'amboise, made by | | |george chapman. june |{john busbye }| t. |cupid's whirleygigge. |{arthur johnson }| |a comedy. june |john wright | b. |the travels of the three | | |english brothers, as it | | |was played at the curtain. | | |a play. july |george vyncent | b. |the misery of inforced | | |marriage. a tragedy. aug. |george elde | b. |the puritan widow. a | | |comedy. aug. |george elde | b. |northward ho. aug. |thomas thorp | b. |what you will. a comedy. oct. |george elde | b. |the revenger's }two | | | tragedy. }plays. | | b. |a trick to } | | | catch the old } | | | one. } oct. |{john browne } | b. |the family of love, as |{john helme } | |it hath been lately acted | | |by the children of his | | |majesty's revels. a play. oct. |john wright | b. |the tragedy of pope | | | alexander vi., as it | | | was played before his | | | majesty. -------------+-------------------+---------+------------------------- date. |for whom entered. |licenser.| name of play. --------------+------------------+---------+------------------------- oct. |arthur johnson | b. |the merry devil of | | | edmonton. a play. nov. |{nathaniel butter}| b. |master william shakespeare | | |his history of king lear, | { john busby }| |as it was played before | | |the king's majesty at | | |whitehall upon saint | | |stephen's night at | | |christmas last by his | | |majesty's servants playing | | |usually at the globe on | | |bankside. - mar. | richard bonyon | b. |the five witty | | | gallants, as it hath | | | been acted by the | | | children of the | | | chapel. a play. mar. | richard moore | b. |a most witty and merry | | | conceited comedy | | | called who would a' | | | thought it, or law | | | tricks. april | john helme | b. |humour out of breath. april | thomas thorpe | b. |the characters of two | | |royal masques invented by | | |ben. johnson. april |thomas man, jun. | b. |the second part of the | | | converted courtesan, | | | or honest whore. may | [thomas] pavyer | ... |a yorkshire tragedy, | | | written by wylliam | | | shakespere. may | edward blount | b. |pericles, prince of tyre. june | { john busby }| b. |a roman tragedy called |{nathanael butter}| | the rape of lucrece. june | thomas thorp | b. |the conspiracy and | | |tragedy of charles | | |duke of byronn, | | |written by george chapman. oct. | { walter burre }| s. |a mad world, my | { eleazer edgar }| | maysters. oct. | john bache | b. |the dumb knight. a play. nov. |nathanael butter | b. |the tragedy of mustapha | | |zangar. - jan. | { henry walleys }| s. |the case is altered. | { richard bonion}| | [bartholomew sutton | | | is added to the two | | | other publishers on | | | july .] jan. |jeffrey charlton | s. |bonos nochios. an interlud. | | s. |craft upon subtilty's | | | back. an interlude. jan. |{richard bonion} | s. |the history of troylus |{henry walleys} | | and cressida. feb. |{richard bonion} | s. |the masque of queens |{henry walley} | | celebrated, done by | | | benjamin johnson. mar. |john busby, jun. | s. |the tragedy of the turk, | | |with the death of borgias, | | |by john mason, gent. june | john browne | ... |chester's triumph in | | |honor of the prince, | | |as it was performed | | |upon s. gregory's day | | |in the aforesaid city. sept. |{john browne }| b. |epiceone, or the silent |{john busby, jun.}| |woman, by ben. johnson. oct. | walter burre | b. |the alchemist, made by | | |ben johnson. oct. | thomas thorpe | b. |histriomastix, or the | | |player whipped. nov. | robert wilson | b. |ram alley, or merry tricks. sept. | john stepneth | b. |the tragedy of the atheist. oct. | william barrenger| b. |the golden age, with the | | |lives of jupiter and | | |saturn. nov. | john budge | b. |a woman is a weathercock. | | |a comedy. - feb. |william barrenger | b. |a christian turned turk, | | |or the tragical lives | | |and deaths of the two | | |famous pirates ward and | | |danseker, as it hath | | |been publicly acted. | | |written by robert | | |daborn, gent. feb. |edward blunte | b. |a play-book, being a | | |tragi-comedy called | | |the nobleman, written | | |by cyril tourneur. --------------+------------------+---------+------------------------- date. |for whom entered. |licenser.| name of play. ---------------+-----------------------+---------+------------------- - feb. | edward blunte | b. |the twins tragedy, | | |written by niccolls. | | |a tragedy. april | [john] browne | b. |the revenge of bussy | | |d'amboys. a tragedy. | | b. |the widow's tears. a | | |comedy. | | |both written by george | | |chapman. dec. | richard hawkins | b. |the tragedy of the | | |fair mariamne, queen | | |of jewry. may | richard redmer | b. |hog hath lost his | | |pearl. - feb. | robert lownes | b. |the valiant welshman. april | walter burr | ... |ignoramus, comoedia | | |prout cantabrigie | | |acta coram jacobo, &c. april | josias harison | b. |the hector of germany, | | |or the palsgrave "is | | |a harmless thing." | | |[these four words | | |have been struck | | |through with a pen.] april | josias harison | ... |cupid's revenge. april | nicholas okes | ... |albumazar. a comedy | | |acted before his | | |majesty at cambridge, | | | mar. [- ]. aug. |richard redmere | ... |the honest lawyer. | | |a play. [assigned at | | |same date to richard | | |woodriffe.] - mar. | miles patriche | b. |the scornful lady, | | |written by francis | | |beaumont and john | | |fletcher. april | john parker | b. |the marriages of the | | |arts, written by | | |barth. holyday, m.a. | | |a comedy. june | barnard alsope | ... |see me and see me not, | | |by dabridgcourt | | |belgier. a poem. aug. | [edward] blounte | b. |a king and no king. | | |a play. april |{[richard] higgenbotham|} b. |the maid's tragedy. |{[francis] constable |} |a play. july | [john] brown | b. |the temple masque, | | |anno . oct. | richard meighen | b. |swetnam the women | | |hater arraigned | | |by women. a comedy. - jan. | thomas walkley | ... |philaster. a play. jan. | john trundle | ... |the life and death of | | |guy of warwick, | | |written by john day | | |and thomas decker. may |laurence chapman | b. |two merry milkmaids. | | |a play. | | |a courtly masque, or july |{ george purslowe } | b. |the the world tost |{john trundle } | |at tennis, acted at | | |the prince's arms by | | |the prince his | | |highness' servants. sept. | john norton | b. |the pilgrim of | | |casteell, or the | | |fortunes of llamphilus | | |and nisa. "not to be | | |printed until he | | |bringeth more | | |sufficient authority." oct. | thomas walkley | b. |the tragedy of | | |othello, the moor of | | |venice. dec. | thomas jones | b. |the virgin martyr. a | | |tragedy. - feb. | matthew rodes | b. |a tragedy of herod and | | |antipater, by gervase | | |markham. - jan. |{edward blackmore } | a. |sforza, duke of | { george norton } | |millaine, made by | | |master messenger. a | | |play. sept. | francis grove | a. |a book of jigs | | |containing three books | | |or parts. nov. |{[edward] blounte } | ... |master william |{ isaac jaggard } | |shakspeer's comedies, | | |histories, and | | |tragedies, so many of | | |the said copies are | | |not formally entered | | |to other men. ... | ... | ... |comedies: the tempest. ... | ... | ... |the two gentlemen of | | |verona. ... | ... | ... |measure for measure. ---------------+-----------------------+---------+------------------- date. | for whom entered.|licenser.| name of play. ---------------+-------------------+---------+----------------------- nov. | ... | ... |the comedy of errors. ... | ... | ... |as you like it. ... | ... | ... |all's well that ends | | | well. ... | ... | ... |twelfe night. ... | ... | ... |the winter's tale. ... | ... | ... |histories: the third ... | ... | |part of henry vi. ... | ... | ... |henry viii. ... | ... | ... |tragedies: coriolanus. ... | ... | ... |timon of athens. ... | ... | ... |julius cæsar. ... | ... | ... |macbeth. ... | ... | ... |anthonie and cleopatra. ... | ... | ... |cymbeline. ... |{[john] harrison } | |the bondman, by - mar. |{edward blackmore} | h. | phillip messenger. june | john wright | |the spanish jepsye. april | john waterson | |the staple of news. | | | a comedy. april | robert milbourne | |apollo shroving. a | | | comedy. - feb. | john marriott | h. |the tragedy of | | | lodovick sforza, duke | | | of millan, by robert | | | gomersall. june | henry seile | h. |the lover's | | | melancholy, by john | | | ford, gent. nov. | jaspar emerye | h. |the duchess of suffolk, | | |written by thomas drue. | | | a play. - jan. | ephraim dawson | h. |the collonell, written | | | by william davenant, | | | gent. - jan. | john waterson | h. |the crewel brother, | | |written by william | | |davenant. | | h. |the just italian, by | | |the same. feb. | john grove | h. |hoffman, the revengeful | | |father. a play. | | h. |the grateful servant, | | |by james shirley. a play. feb. | raph mabbe | h. |the spanish bawd. a play. mar. | john waterson | h. |the runegado, by | | |philip messenger. a play. mar. | john mariott | h. |aristippus and the | | |pedler. april |[francis] constable| h. |the chast mayd of | | |chepeside. a play. april | ---- allcott | h. |the pedler, by r. | | | davenport. a comedy. april |[francis] constable| h. |the battle of the | | | affections, or love's | | | lodestone. a play. june | [nathaniel] butter| h. |the second part of the | | | honest hoore, by | | | thomas decker. sept. | andrew crooke | h. |a comedy in latin | | | called loyola, by | | | doctor hackket. nov. | [henry] seile | h. |match me in london, | | |by thomas decker. a play. - feb. | [robert] milborne | h. |a comedy in latin | | | called pedantius. feb. |[francis] constable| h. |the school of complement, | | |by james shirley. april | thomas alchorne | h. |new inn, written by | | |ben. johnson. a comedy. april | william sheeres | h. |scicelides, acted at | | | cambridge. a play. may | john jackman | h. |the wonder of a | | | kingdom, by thomas | | | decker. a comedy. | | | [entered again under | | | feb. - to n. | | | vavasor, "dated may | | | ."] may | john jackman | h. |the noble spanish | | |souldier, by thomas | | |deckar. a tragedy. | | |[entered again under | | | dec. to n. | | |vavasor, "anno ."] may | [thomas] harper | h. |cæsar and pompey, by | | |george chapman. a play. june | richard royston | h. |the fair maid of the | | | west, st and d | | | part. a comedy. sept. | [richard] meighen | h. |amarath the turk. a play. sept. | [richard] meighen | h. |the tragedy of bajazet | | |ii., or the raging turk. sept. | [richard] thrall | h. |ffraus honesta. nov. | [michael] sparkes | h. |a flora show at norwich. nov. | john waterson | h. |the emperor of the east. | | |a playbook. nov. |[francis] constable| h. |a new wonder, or a | | |woman never vexed. | | |a comedy by william | | | rowley. - jan. |[john] waterson, | h. |the maid of honor, by |jun. | |philip massinger. a play. jan. | john grove | h. |the leaguer. (the | | |reformations to be | | |strictly observed: | | |may be printed not | | |otherwise expressed | | |by the foresaid words) | | |[_sic_]. a comedy. feb. | william cooke | h. |the changes, or love | | | in a maze, by master | | | sherley. a comedy. mar. | nicholas vavasor | h. |the northern lass, by | | |master broome. a comedy. mar. | francis constable | h. |the fatal dowry. a | | | tragedy. may | andrew crooke | h. |a tragedy in latin | | | called roxana. june | [humfrey] robinson| h. |the rival friends, | | | by peter hausten. a | | | comedy. sept. | [thomas] harper | h. |all's lost by lust, by | | |william rowley. a | | | tragedy. nov. | william sheares | h. |the costly whore. | | | a comedy. nov. | william cooke | h. |a dialogue of riches | | | and honor, by j. s. nov. | [henry] seile | h. |alaham, by fulke lord | | | brooke. a tragedy. | | h. |a new way to pay old | | | debts, by philip | | | massinger. a comedy. nov. | nicholas vavasor | h. |the jew of malta. | | | a tragedy. - jan. | william sheares | h. |a match at midnight. | | | a play. - jan. | william cooke | h. |the witty fair one, by | | |james shirley. a play. jan. | hugh beeston | h. |love's sacrifice, by | | | john ford. a tragedy. mar. | william cooke | h. |the bird in the cage, | | | by james shirley. a | | | comedy. mar. | hugh beeston | h. |the broken heart, by | | | john ford. a tragedy. june | [richard] meighen | h. |the fine companion, by | | | shakerley marmyon. a | | | play. july | nicholas okes | h. |the traveller, by | | | master heywood. a | | | comedy. aug. | ---- allott | h. |fuimus troes, or the | | | true troians, | | | represented by the | | | gentlemen students of | | | magdalen college in | | | oxford. - feb. | hugh beeston | h. |perkin warbeck, by | | | john ford. "observing | | | the caution in the | | | license." a tragedy. april | john waterson | h. |the two noble kinsmen, | | | by john fletcher and | | | william shakespeare. | | | a tragi-comedy. april | john spenser | h. |bellum grammaticale, | | | by master spense. june | nicholas oakes | bl. |a maidenhead well | | | lost. a play. oct. | benjamin fisher | h. |the witches of | | | lancashire. a play. nov. | william cooke | h. |the traytor, by james | | | shirley. a play. - jan. | john benson | h. |the shepherd's | | |holiday, by j. rutter. | | |a tragi-comedy. sept. | john crouch | bl. |the queen's masque, or | | | love's mistress, by | | | master haywood. a play. dec. | [john] marriott | h. |the great duke of | | | florence. a comical | | | history, by philip | | | massinger. - feb. | [richard] meighen | h. |the platonic lovers, | | | by william davenant. | | | a play. feb. | [richard] meighen | h. |the wits, by william | | | davenant. a play. june | robert raworth | h. |a challenge for | | | beauty, by haywood. | | | a play. | | bl. |the history of | | | anniball and scipio, | | | by thomas nabbes. aug. | charles greene | | a play. | | bl. |a moral masque, by | | | thomas nabbes. - mar. | {[john] waterson }| t. |the elder brother, [? ]| {john benson }| | written by john | | | fletcher. a comedy. mar. | james beckett | t. |the royal king and | | | the loyal subjects, | | | by master heywood. | | | a comedy. april | { andrew crooke }| t. |hide park, by james | | | shirley. a comedy. | { william cooke }| t. |the lady of } by james | | | pleasure. } shirley. | | t. |the young } two plays. | | | admiral. } april | [john] waterson | t. |the valiant scot. a | | | tragedy. oct. | { andrew crooke }| |the example, by master | { william cooke }| | shirley. a play. nov. | william cooke | |the gamester, by | | |james shirley. a play. nov. | john okes | |a shoemaker is a | | |gentleman, with the | | |life and death of the | | |cripple that stole the | | |weathercock of paul's, | | |by william rowley. | | |a comedy. - jan. | thomas walkley | h. |the cid, a tragi-comedy | | |translated out of french | | |by master rutter. feb. | [henry] seile | |the fancies, by john | | | ford. a play. feb. | john okes | |the martyred soldier, | | |with the life and | | |death of purser | | |clinton, by h. shirley. mar. | john okes | |the lost lady. a play. mar. | henry sheapard | |the wisewoman of hogsden, | | |by thomas haywood. | | |a play. mar. | {[andrew] crooke }| |the duke's mistress, | { william cooke }| |by james shirley. a play. mar. | [andrew] crooke | |the conspiracy. a play. ---------------+-------------------+---------+----------------------- date. | for whom entered.| name of play. ---------------+--------------------+-------------------------------- - mar. | [andrew] crooke |the royal master, by james | john crooke | shirley. a play. | richard searger | | |a latin comedy called naufragium mar. | [henry] seile | joculare, by abraham cowley. | |a pastoral comedy called love's | | riddle, by abraham cowley, | | whilst he was king's scholar in | | westminster school. mar. | { [thomas] harper }|a latin comedy called | { [thomas] slater }| cornelianum dolium, by t. r. april | charles greene |tottenham court, by thomas | | nabbes. a play. april | thomas walkley |aglaura, by sir john sucklin, | | knight. a play. may | charles greene |covent garden, by thomas nabbes. | | a play. june | charles greene |the spring's glory, by thomas | | nabbes. a book. july | john oakes |the seven champions of | | christendom, with the life and | | death of jack straw and wat | | tyler, by john kirke. a play. oct. | { [andrew] crooke }| phillip chalbott, admiral of | { william crooke }| france, and the ball, by james | | shirley. a book. oct. | { john crooke }| arviagus and philicia, first | { richard serger }| and second parts. a play. oct. | thomas walkley |the tragedy of } two | | cleopatra, and julia } plays. | | agripina, emperess of } | | rome. } nov. | henry sheapard |the lady's trial, by john ford. | | a play. nov. | [humphry] mozeley |the sophister. a comedy. - jan. | [daniel] pakeman |argalus and parthenia, by henry | | glapthorne. a play. jan. | [john] waterson |monsieur thomas, by master john | | fletcher. a comedy. feb. | [john] waterson |the unnatural combat, by phillip | | massinger. a tragedy. mar. | [thomas] harper |imperiale. a tragedy. mar. | humphrey blundon |a new trick to cheat the devil, | |by master damport. a book or | |comedy. april |william cooke |the maid's revenge, by james | |shirley. a play. april |{ [andrew] crooke }|nightwalkers. } |{ william cooke }|opportunity. } | |love's cruelty. } plays. | |the coronation. } | |wit without money.} june |john okes |the knave in grain, or jack | | cottington. a play. july |laurence blaicklock |the bride, by thomas nabbes. | | a play. july |william cooke |the humorous courtier, by james | | shirley. a play. sept. |george hutton |albertus wallenstein, late duke | | of friedland, by henry | | glapthorne. a tragedy. oct. |daniel frere |messalina, the roman empress, | |by n. r. a tragedy. oct. |{ john crooke }|the bloody brother, by j. b. |{ richard sergier }| a tragedy. nov. |daniel frere |unfortunate mother, a tragedy | |by thomas nabbes. a play. nov. |daniel frere |the rebellion, by thomas | | rawlins. a play. nov. |{ john williams }|the arcadia. a pastoral. |{francis egglestone}|love's cruelty, by james | | shirley. a tragedy. entered | | before to master crooke. - jan. |[william] leake |the strange discovery, by j. g., | | gent. a tragi-comedy. feb. |william cooke |the tragedy of saint albons, by | | master james shirley. a play. feb. |john benson |the masque of the gypsies, by | | benjamin johnson. - mar. |{ john williams }|the antiquary. a comedy. |{francis egglestone}|look to the lady, by james | |shirley. a comedy. | |sparagus garden. } three plays, mar. |[francis] constable |the antipodes. } by rich. | |wit in a madness.} brome. | |the masque of augurs. mar. |{ [andrew] crooke } |time vindicated. |{ richard seirger } |neptune's triumphs. | |pan's anniversary, or the | |shepherd's holiday. four | |masques, by benjamin jonson. april |william cooke |the queen of arragon, by | |william habington, esquire. | |the swaggering damosell, by april |[andrew] crooke |master chamberlayne. a comedy. | |the prisoner, by master | |killegrey. a tragedy. april |[francis] constable |the lady's privilege, by henry | |glaphthorne. a play. april |[francis] constable |wit in a constable, by henry | |glapthorne. a comedy. april |[richard] whitaker |saint patrick for } two plays, | |ireland. } by james | |the constant maid.} shirley. may |widow wilson |the hollander, by henry | |glapthorne. a comedy. may |john okes |love's masterpiece, by thomas | |haywood. a comedy. | |claracilla, by master } | |killegray. a play. } | |christianetta. } | |the jewish gentleman. } six aug. |[andrew] crooke |a new academy or } plays, | | exchange. } by | |the lovesick count. } richard | |the covent garden. } broome. | |the english moor, or } | | mock marriage. } ---------------+--------------------+-------------------------------- table v.--transfers of copyright in plays, - . ----------------+---------------------------+ | | date. | name of play. | | | ----------------+---------------------------+ | | |campaspe | april |galatea | april |sappho | oct. |{midas | |{endymion | jan. |mother bombie | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , oct. , galathea re-entered. , april , sappho and campaspe transferred from t. cadman to joan brome. , aug. , sappho, campaspe, endymion, midas, galatea, from mrs. brome, deceased, to g. potter. , all six published together by e. blount. | | oct. |spanish tragedy | oct. |edward longshanks | oct. |jack straw | - mar. |looking-glass for london | - mar. |i york and lancaster | |ii york and lancaster | aug. |sir john oldcastle | aug. |henry v. "stayed" | may |yorkshire tragedy | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , aug. , spanish tragedy and edward longshanks assigned from a. jeffes to w. white. , aug. , henry v., spanish tragedy, edward longshanks, jack straw, looking-glass for london, "formerly printed," set over to t. pavier. , april , & henry vi. assigned from t. millington to t. pavier. , aug. , henry v., spanish tragedy, sir john oldcastle, and "master pavier's right in shakespeare's plays, or any of them," assigned by mrs. pavier to e. brewster and r. bird. , nov. , his interest in henry v., sir john oldcastle, york and lancaster, and yorkshire tragedy assigned by mr. bird to j. cotes. | | july |maid's metamorphosis | sept. |jack drum's entertainment | oct. |weakest goeth to the wall | aug. |king and no king | april |maid's tragedy | - jan. |philaster | oct. |othello | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , oct. , jack drum assigned from f. norton to r. oliff. , nov. , jack drum, weakest to the wall, and maid's metamorphosis, from mrs. oliff to p. knight. , oct. , weakest to wall and maid's metamorphosis assigned from p. knight to r. hawkins. - , mar , king and no king, philaster, and orthello assigned from t. walkley to r. hawkins. , oct. , maid's tragedy from heggenbotham and constable to r. hawkins. , may , all the group except jack drum from hawkins to mead and meredith. - , jan. , the same from them to leake. | | aug. | & edward iv. | oct. |antonio and mellida | dec. |poetaster | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- - , feb. , his moiety in & edward iv. assigned from j. busby to h. lownes. , may , his share in poetaster and anthonie and mellida assigned by t. lownes to h. lownes and r. young, , nov. , his interest in poetaster, & jane shore, and anthony and melida assigned by h. lownes to g. cole and g. latham. , dec. , their interest in the same play assigned by them to r. young. | | aug. |richard ii. | oct. |richard iii. | - feb. | henry iv. | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , jan. , set over from a. wise to m. low. | | aug. |every man in his humor | may |cynthia's revels | |(narcissus) | nov. |sejanus | |volpone | oct. |a mad world, my masters | sept. |silent woman | oct. |alchemist | |catilina | april |d'ambois' revenge | april |ignoramus | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , aug. , sejanus assigned by e. blunt to t. thorpe. , oct. , sejanus and vulpone assigned by t. thorpe to w. burre. , sept. , silent woman assigned by j. browne to w. burre. - , feb. , d'ambois' revenge assigned by mrs. browne to j. marriott. , july , narcissus, mad world, alchemist, silent woman, ignoramus, assigned by mrs. bur to j. spencer. , july , ignoramus entered for g. edmondson and j. spenser (with spencer's consent). , july , all the seven plays by jonson were entered for stansby by virtue of a note bearing date , june , under the hands of w. burre and m. lownes. _n.b._ stansby printed the jonson folios , . | | may |taming of a shrew | |love's labour's lost | |romeo and juliet | july |hamlet | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- - , jan , the first three were entered for n. ling, with c. burby's consent. , nov. , all four were set over to j. smythick. mr. halliwell in his outlines omits the shrew entry. | | may |orlando | april |george a greene | dec. |edward iii. | aug. |every man in his humour | oct. |summer's last will and t. | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , oct. , assigned by mrs. burby to welby. - , mar. , by welby to snodham. - , feb. , by mrs. snodham to w. stansby. - , mar. , the first four by mrs stansby to bishop. only half shares in the two last plays are concerned in these entries. | | |the shoemaker's holiday | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , april , assigned from v. symms to j. wrighte, and agreed that "symms shall have the workmanship of the printing thereof for the use of the said j. wrighte during his life, if he have a printing house of his own." | | - jan. |dr. faustus | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , sept. , assigned from t. bushell to j. wright. | | | | july |edward ii. | oct. |dr. doddypoll | | | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , dec. , edward ii. assigned from w. jones to r. barnes. - , jan. , dr. doddipoll from mrs. oliffe to h. bell. , april , edward ii. from r. barnes to h. bell. , sept. , both plays from henry and moses bell to haviland and j. wright. | | dec. | & robin hood | aug. |lord cromwell | - mar. |the fawn | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- - , feb. , all assigned from leake to barrett. , april , cromwell and fawn from mrs. barrett to parker. , sept. , all the plays from parker to haviland and j. wright. | | |mucedorus | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , sept. , assigned by mrs. jones to j. wright. | | june |dutch courtesan | - mar. |sophonisba | may |woman hater | oct. |a mad world, my m. | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , april , "a half part" in the two last plays, all edgar's interest in the courtesan (which was entered originally to hodgetts), and the whole of sophonisba assigned from e. edgar to j. hodgetts. | | aug. |the honest lawyer | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- - jan. , assigned by r. woodriffe to t. barlow. | | april |fair maid of exchange | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , april , assigned by mrs. rocket to n. bourne. - , feb. , by bourne to g. edwards. | | |{cupid's revenge | april |{the palsgrave | - mar. |scornful lady | dec. |virgin martyr | |nero | |the heir | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , may , scornful lady assigned by m. patrich to t. jones. , april , cupid's revenge and the palsgrave by j. harrison to t. jones. , oct. , all six plays by t. jones to matthews. | | oct. |merchant of venice | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , july , l. hayes, inherited from t. hayes, his father. | | oct. |family of love | april |humor out of breath | |greenes's tu quoque | |fair quarrel | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , sept. , tu quoque and fair quarrel assigned by j. trundle to t. dewe. , dec. , all four plays by mrs. helme (and t. dewe?) to w. washington. , may , the last three by him to flesher. | | oct. |merry devil of edmonton | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , june , assigned by a. johnson to f. faulkner. | | april |arden of feversham | nov. |salomon and bersheba | |{f. bacon and f. bungay | may |{robin hood and little john| ? |the owl (not extant; | |written ) | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , june , assigned by mrs. white to e. aldee. [the leire entered with these was not the old play, but a prose history now lost] , april , bacon, robin hood, and the owl assigned from mrs. aldee to oulton. | | oct. |the dumb knight | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , nov. , assigned by j. bache to r. wilson. | | |nero (in latin) | nov. |woman's a weathercock | |bartholomew fair | |share in shakespeare folio | april |staple of news | |roman actor | mar. |aristippus | aug. |true trojans | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , sept. , nero and woman's a weathercock transferred from j. budge to allott. , nov. , blount's interest in shakespeare assigned to allott. , sept. , staple of news assigned by j. waterson to allot. , july , all the group from mrs allott to legatt and a. crook. [_n.b._ henry vi, is called henry vi., troylus is omitted, and anthony included in the entry] | | nov. |share in shakespeare folio | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , june , jaggard's share assigned by mrs. jaggard to t. cotes and r. cotes. | | |faithful shepherdess | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , dec. , h. walley's share assigned to r. meighen. | | nov. |wily beguiled | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , oct. , assigned by c. knight to t. knight. - , mar. , by t. knight to alchorn. | | - jan. |merry wives of windsor | may |phoenix | may |michaelmas term | june |cupid's whirligig | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- - , jan. , assigned by a. johnson to meighen. | | june |four london prentises | - oct. |golden age | |silver age | |iron age | april |albumazar | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , aug. , assigned by n. okes to j. okes. | | |roaring girl | |white devil | |insatiate countess | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- - , feb. , assigned by t. archer to h. perrey. , sept. , white devil and insatiate countess assigned by h. perrey to h. taunton. | | - feb. |herod and antipater | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , may , assigned by m. rhodes to f. smith. , aug. , by f. smith to t. lambert. - , jan. , by t. lambert to f. smith again. | | - feb. |lingua | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , aug. , assigned by s. waterson to j. waterson. | | july |misery of enforced m. | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , april , assigned by mrs. vincent to r. thraile. | | oct. |merry devil of e. | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , june , assigned by a. johnson to f. faulkner. | | nov. |mustapha. | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , nov. , assigned by n. butter to j. seile. | | - jan. |guy of warwick | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , dec. , assigned by j. trundle to t. langley. | | may |two merry milkmaids | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , sept. , assigned by l. chapman to m. walbanke. | | - jan. |duke of milan | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , may , norton's share assigned to blackmore. | | june |knave in grain | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , oct. , assigned by j. okes to j. nicholson as "new vampt" [which is not part of the title, as mr. haliwell supposes]. | | |picture | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , aug. , assigned by t. walkey to j. waterson. | | april |every man out of his humor | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , april , assigned by smethwick to bishop. | | |wedding | - feb. |{grateful servant | |{hoffmann | - jan. |holland's leaguer | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , sept. , assigned by j. grove to w. leake. | | - mar. |lost lady | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , sept. , assigned by j. okes to j. coleby. , sept. , by j. coleby to r. roiston. | | - feb. |henry viii. (when you see | | me, &c.) | july | . if you know not me, &c. | sept. | . if you know not me, &c. | nov. |lear | june |lucrece, roman tragedy | june | . honest whore | | | to whom transferred. -------------------- , may , assigned by n. butter to flessher. ----------------+----------------------------+----------------------- at this point we lose the aid of mr. arber's reprint of "the stationers' registers," which does not extend beyond . it is, however, necessary to continue our notes to , the date of the reopening of the theatres, because even at that date entries were made attributing plays to shakespeare. the following memoranda have no pretence to completeness, and are compiled (pending an opportunity of examining the registers themselves) from the much-abused _biographia dramatica_, which is, nevertheless, much more useful than the abbreviated compilation made from it (retaining nearly all its errors) by the scissors of mr. halliwell, and published by him as _a dictionary of old english plays_. two of these entries are so important for dramatic history that they are printed in parallel columns, with the list of mss. once in the possession of john warburton, the somerset herald, but mostly destroyed by his cook. from these it will be seen at a glance that three-fifths of his collection consisted of the remainder of moseley's stock, which contained the majority of old unprinted mss. extant in . from these s. r. entries, taken as a whole, the reader will find that the total number of extant plays originally produced between , when theatres were first opened, and their closing in , is less than . nor have we reason to believe that they ever numbered more than or so. nearly all worth preserving has been preserved. the gross exaggerations of halliwell and collier on this matter depend on their estimating the number of contemporaneous theatres and companies at some fifteen. they really never exceeded five. they also neglect the facts that many so-called new plays were mere revisions of the old ones, "new vamped" versions slightly altered; and that the inferior theatres depended largely on extemporaneous performances, of which only the plots were committed to writing. in the palmy days of the admiral's company, henslow brought out a new play once a fortnight, but this was undoubtedly an exceptional instance. the best companies, such as the king's, and after them the queen's, produced one in about two months. taking all this into consideration, is a liberal estimate; , is a number that could only be dreamed of by an inaccurate writer intent on effect rather than truth. and of this not more than a quarter would be worth preserving: indeed, of those preserved many are quite valueless. the few good ones lost are such as _the jeweller of amsterdam_, suppressed for political reasons; or the original _henry viii._, destroyed by fire or other accident. in these supplementary lists names of authors wrongly attributed are printed in _italics_, and names of plays occurring both in warburton's list and moseley's entries are _asterised_. * * * * * . sept. , were entered, the spartan ladies, by ludovic carlell; the corporal and the switzer, by arthur wilson; the fatal friendship, by burroughes. . sept. , the bondwoman. . nov. (by r. marriot), the black wedding; castara, or cruelty without lust; the conceits; the divorce; the florentine friend; a fool and her maindenhead soon parted; the law case; the noble ravishers; the paraside, or revenge for honor, by _henry glapthorne_; pity the maids; the proxy, or love's aftergame; the royal choice, by sir robert stapylton; salisbury plain; supposed inconstancy; the woman's law; woman's masterpiece; the younger brother. . april , the apprentice's prize, by brome and heywood; the life and death of sir martin skink, with the wars of the low countries, by brome and heywood; the jeweller of amsterdam, or the hague, by fletcher, field, and massinger; the maiden's holiday, by marlowe and day (see warburton's list). supplementary table of moseley's entries in and , and warburton's list. +---------------------------------+--------------------------------++ plays entered sept. | authors. || ----------------------------------+--------------------------------++ *philenzo and hippolito. c. | p. massinger || | || *the spanish viceroy, or the | p. massinger || honor of women. c. | || | || *minerva's sacrifice, or the | p. massinger || forced lady. t. | || | || *believe as you list. c. | p. massinger || | || the italian nightpiece, | p. massinger || or unfortunate piety. | || | || the wandering lovers, or | p. massinger || the painter. c. | || | || *the very woman, or the woman's | p. massinger || plot [or the prince of tarent.] | || t.c. | || | || *the noble choice, or the | p. massinger || orator. t.c. | || | || the prisoner, or the fair | p. massinger || anchoress [of pausilippo]. t.c. | || | || the fool without book. | w. rowley || | || *the second maiden's tragedy. | || | || *beauty in a trance. | j. ford || | || *the governor. | sir c. formido || | || *the puritan maid, the modest | t. middleton || wife, and the wanton widow. c. | || | || *the widow's prize. c. | w. sampson || | || the history of cardenio. | fletcher and _shakespeare_ || | || *henry i. and henry ii. | _shakespeare_ and davenport || | [query, is duke humphrey a || | version of henry vi.?] || *the inconstant lady. c. | a. wilson || | || the lovesick maid or, the | r. brown || honor of young ladies. | || | || the jew of venice. | t. dekker || | || the woman's mistake. | drue & davenport || | || the duke of guise. | h. shirley || | || the dumb bawd. | h. shirley || | || giraldo the constant lover. | h. shirley || | || the spanish duke of lerma. | h. shirley || | || the countryman. | anonymous || | || the king's mistress. | anonymous || | || the politic bankrupt, or which | anonymous || is the best girl? | || ----------------------------------+--------------------------------++ ++--------------------------------+--------------------------------++ || plays in the warburton mss. | authors. || || | || ++--------------------------------+--------------------------------++ || *philenzo and hippolito. c. | p. massinger || || | || || *antonio and vallia. c. | p. massinger || || | || || *the parliament of love. c. | _w. rowley_ || || | || || the judge. c. | p. massinger || || *the honor of women. c. | p. massinger || || | || || *minerva's sacrifice. t. | p. massinger || || | || || *the forced lady. t. | p. massinger || || | || || *believe as you list. c. | p. massinger || || | || || *the woman's plot. t.c. | p. massinger || || | || || *the noble choice. t.c. | p. massinger || || | || || *the tyrant. t. | p. massinger || || | || || alexias, or the chaste | p. massinger || || gallant. t. | || || | || || *fast and welcome. c. | p. massinger || || | || || *the four honorable loves. c. | w. rowley || || | || || *the nonesuch. c. | w. rowley || || | || || *the second maiden's tragedy. | _g. chapman_ || || | || || *yorkshire gentle-woman and | g. chapman || || her sons | || || | || || *the fatal love. | || || | || || *the king of swedland. | || || | || || *jocondo and astolpho. | t. dekker || || | || || *an ill beginning may have a | j. ford || || good end. c. | || || | || || *the london merchant. c. | j. ford || || | || || *the royal combat. c. | j. ford || || | || || *beauty in a trance. | j. ford || || | || || *the governor. | sir c. formido || || | || || *the duchess of fernandina. t. | h. glapthorne || || | || || the vestal. t. | h. glapthorne || || | || || *nothing impossible to love. | sir r. legreece || || t.c. | || || | || || *love hath found out his eyes. | t. jordan || || | || || *the crafty merchant, | _s. marmion_ || || or the soldiered citizen, | || || [or come to my country house], | || || or the merchant's sacrifice. | [w. bonen] || || | || || *the puritan maid, the modest | t. middleton || || wife, and the wanton widow. c. | || || | || || *the widow's prize. c. | w. sampson || || | || || a play. | _w. shakespeare_ || || | || || *henry i. | _w. shakespeare_ || || | || || *duke humphrey. t. | _w. shakespeare_ || || | || || *the inconstant lady. c. | a. wilson || || | || || the fair favorite. | sir w. davenant || || the bugbears. c. | j. geffrey || || | || || a mask. | r. govell || || | || || the history (tragedy) of jobe. | r. greene || || | || || the queen of corsica. t. | f. jaques || || | || || | || || the maiden's holiday. | c. marlowe || || | || || st. george for england. | wil. smith || || | || || works. | sir j. suckling || || | || || 'tis good sleeping in a whole | w. wager || || skin. | || || | || || an enterlude. | r. wood || || | || || the flying voice. | r. wood || || | || || the city shuffler. | anonymous || || | || || the fairy queen. | anonymous || || | || || the great man. | anonymous || || | || || the lovers of loodgate. | anonymous || || | || || orpheus. | anonymous || || | || || the spanish puecas. | anonymous || || | || || demetrius and marsina, or the | anonymous || || imperial imposter and unhappy | || || heroine. | || ++--------------------------------+--------------------------------++ ++--------------------------------+---------------------------------- || plays entered june . | authors. ++--------------------------------+---------------------------------- || | || *antonio and vallia. c. | p. massinger || | || *the parliament of love. | _w. rowley_ || | || *believe as you list. c. | p. massinger || | || *a right woman. | _beau._ and flet. || | || *the tyrant. t. | p. massinger || | || *fast and welcome. c. | p. massinger || | || *the four honored loves. c. | w. rowley || | || *the nonesuch. c. | w. rowley || | || *the yorkshire gentle-woman | g. chapman || and her son. | || | || *fatal love, a french tragedy. | g. chapman || | || *gustavus, king of swethland. | t. dekker || | || *the tale of jocondo | t. dekker || and astolpho. c. | || | || *an ill beginning has a good | j. ford || end, and a &c. c. | || | || *the london merchant. c. | j. ford || | || *the royal combat. c. | j. ford || | || *the duchess of fernandina, t. | h. glapthorne || | || the noble trial. | h. glapthorne || | || *nothing impossible to love. | sir r. legreece || t.c. | || | || *love hath found out his eyes. | t. jordan || | || *the soldiered citizen. | || | || iphis and ianthe, or a | _w. shakespeare_ || marriage without a man. | || | || *duke humphrey. | _w. shakespeare_ || the history of king stephen. | _w. shakespeare_ || | || the faithful friends. | _beau. and flet._ || the history of madoc, king of | _f. beaumont_ || britain. | || | || the fatal brothers. t. | r. davenport || | || the politic queen, or murther | r. davenport || will out. | || | || the prodigal scholar. c. | t. randall || | || the christmas ordinary. | trin. coll. oxon. ++--------------------------------+---------------------------------- index. index of plays and authors connected with shakespeare's company before . -----------+--------------------------+------------------------------ author. | play. | pages. -----------+--------------------------+------------------------------ anonymous |alarum for london |see lodge. " |cloth breeches and velvet | | hose | . " |cromwell, earl of essex | , , , . " |edward iii. |see shakespeare. " |fair em |see wilson. " |gowry | , . " |hester and ahasuerus. | , , . " |jealous comedy |see shakespeare. " |knack to know a knave | , , . " |locrine |see peele. " |london prodigal. | , , , . " |merry devil of edmonton |see drayton. " |mucedorus |see lodge. " |oldcastle |see drayton. " |richard, duke of york |see henry vi. " |seven deadly sins |see tarleton. " |sir thomas more | , , . " |spanish maz | . " |tambercam, d part, acted | | april . | " |taming of a shrew |see kyd. " |taner of denmark, acted | | may . | " |titus and vespasian | , , . " |warning for fair women |see lodge. " |york and lancaster |see henry vi. " |yorkshire tragedy | , , , , . dekker |satiromastix | , , , . drayton |merry devil of edmonton | , , , , , . " |oldcastle, sir john | , , . fletcher |henry viii. |see shakespeare. " |two noble kinsmen | . jonson |alchemist | , , . " |every man out of his | , , , , . | humour | " |every man in his humour | , , , , , . " |jeronymo (additions) | . " |sejanus | , , , , . " |volpone | , , , , , . kyd |hamlet |see shakespeare. " |jeronymo (spanish tragedy)| , , , . " |taming of a shrew | , , , , , , . lodge |alarum for london | , , . " |mucedorus | , , . " |warning for fair women | , , . marlowe |edward iii. |see shakespeare. " |guise (massacre of paris) | , . " |henry vi. |see shakespeare. " |richard, duke of york |see henry vi. " |richard iii. |see shakespeare. " |titus andronicus |see shakespeare. " |york and lancaster |see henry vi. peele |edward i. | . " |locrine | , , . rowley |birth of merlin | . shakespeare|all's well that ends well | , , , . " |anthony and cleopatra | , , , , . " |as you like it | , , , , , . " |coriolanus | , , . " |cymbeline | , , , . " |edward iii. | , , , , . " |errors, comedy of | , , , , . " |hamlet | , , , , , , , | | , , , , , . " | henry iv. | , , , , . " | henry iv. | , , . " |henry v. | , , , , , . " | henry vi. | , , . " | henry vi. | , , , , . " | henry vi. | , , , , , , . " |henry viii. | , , . " |jealous comedy | , , , . | (merry wives) | " |john | , , . " |julius cæsar | , , . " |lear | , , , , , . " |love's labour's lost | , , , , . " |love's labour's won | , . " |macbeth | , , , , , , , | | . " |measure for measure | , , . " |merchant of venice | , , , , , . " |merry wives of windsor | , , , . " |midsummer night's dream | , , , , . " |much ado about nothing | , , , , . " |othello | , , . " |pericles | , , , , . " |richard ii. | , , , , , , . " |richard iii. | , , , , , . " |romeo and juliet | , , , , , , , | | , . " |taming of the shrew | , , , . " |tempest | , , . " |timon of athens | , , . " |titus andronicus | , , , , . " |troylus and cressida | , , , , , , . " |twelfth night | , , , . " |two gentlemen of verona | , , , , . " |winter's tale | , , . tarleton |seven deadly sins | , . tourneur |revenger's tragedy | , . tylney |locrine |see peele. webster |malcontent (induction) | , , . wilkins |miseries of enforced | | marriage | , , . " |pericles |see shakespeare. wilson |fair em | , , . note on the etchings. i have been asked to say a few words on the illustrations to this volume. the _portrait of alleyn_ has been kindly permitted to be taken from the oil painting preserved at dulwich college, and has not, it is believed, been previously engraved as a book illustration. it was thought that the reader would prefer a representation of this great actor, the first managing director under whom shakespeare performed, to a reproduction of one of the many portraits of the poet himself, which have now become so hackneyed. for like reason, the _font in which shakespeare was baptized_ has been obtained from a hitherto unreproduced original: an oil sketch made on the spot in by the world-known painter, mr. henry wallis, and now in the artist's possession. it is with no little satisfaction that i find my work allowed to be associated with that of a painter so eminent, and with the name of one of the great poets for all ages, mr. robert browning. _printed by ballantyne, hanson & co., edinburgh and london._ transcriber's note. variable spelling and hyphenation have been retained. minor punctuation inconsistencies have been silently repaired. some tables have been split for reading purposes. corrections. the first line indicates the original, the second the correction. p. : and purveyed more plays for them than other four and purveyed more plays for them than the other four p. : lingered on in some vague connecsion lingered on in some vague connection p. : in the table given on p. in the table given on p. p. : | ... for henry gosson _y_ | ... for henry gosson