Memoirs of the Court of Queen Elizabeth Part 38

Incidental mention has already been made of sir William Holles of Haughton in Nottinghamshire, the gentleman who refused to marry his daughter to the earl of c.u.mberland, because he did not choose "to stand cap in hand" to his son-in-law: this worthy knight died at a great age in the year 1590; and a few further particulars respecting him and his descendants may deserve record, on account of the strong light which they reflect on several points of manners. Sir William was distinguished, perhaps beyond any other person of the same rank in the kingdom, for boundless hospitality and a magnificent style of living.

"He began his Christmas," says the historian of the family, "at Allhallowtide and continued it until Candlemas; during which any man was permitted to stay three days, without being asked whence he came or what he was." For each of the twelve days of Christmas he allowed a fat ox and other provisions in proportion. He would never dine till after one o'clock; and being asked why he preferred so unusually late an hour, he answered, that "for aught he knew there might a friend come twenty miles to dine with him, and he would be loth he should lose his labor."

At the coronation of Edward VI. he appeared with fifty followers in blue coats and badges,--then the ordinary costume of retainers and serving-men,--and he never went to the sessions at Retford, though only four miles from his own mansion, without thirty "proper fellows" at his heels. What was then rare among the greatest subjects, he kept a company of actors of his own to perform plays and masques at festival times; in summer they travelled about the country.

This sir William was succeeded in his estates by sir John Holles his grandson, who was one of the band of gentlemen pensioners to Elizabeth, and in the reign of James I. purchased the t.i.tle of earl of Clare. His grandfather had engaged his hand to a kinswoman of the earl of Shrewsbury; but the young man declining to complete this contract, and taking to wife a daughter of sir Thomas Stanhope, the consequence was a long and inveterate feud between the houses of Holles and of Talbot, which was productive of several remarkable incidents. Its first effect was a duel between Orme, a servant of Holles, and Pudsey, master of horse to the earl of Shrewsbury, in which the latter was slain. The earl prosecuted Orme, and sought to take away his life; but sir John Holles in the first instance caused him to be conveyed away to Ireland, and afterwards obtained his pardon of the queen. For his conduct in this business he was himself challenged by Gervase Markham, champion and gallant to the countess of Shrewsbury; but he refused the duel, because the unreasonable demand of Markham, that it should take place in a park belonging to the earl his enemy, gave him just ground to apprehend that some treachery was meditated. Anxious however to wipe away the aspersions which his adversary had taken occasion to cast upon his courage, he sought a rencounter which might wear the appearance of accident; and soon after, having met Markham on the road, they immediately dismounted and attacked each other with their rapiers; Markham fell, severely wounded, and the earl of Shrewsbury lost no time in raising his servants and tenantry to the number of one hundred and twenty in order to apprehend Holles in case Markham's hurt should prove mortal. On the other side lord Sheffield, the kinsman of Holles, joined him with sixty men. "I hear, cousin," said he on his arrival, "that my lord of Shrewsbury is prepared to trouble you; but take my word, before he carry you it shall cost many a broken pate;" and he and his company remained at Haughton till the wounded man was out of danger. Markham had vowed never to eat supper or take the sacrament till he was revenged, and in consequence found himself obliged to abstain from both to the day of his death[111]. What appears the most extraordinary part of the story is, that we do not find the queen and council interfering to put a stop to this private war, worthy of the barbarism of the feudal ages.

Gervase Markham, who was the portionless younger son of a Nottinghamshire gentleman of ancient family, became the most voluminous miscellaneous writer of his age, using his pen apparently as his chief means of subsistence. He wrote on a vast variety of subjects, and both in verse and prose; but his works on farriery and husbandry appear to have been the most useful, and those on field sports the most entertaining, of his performances.

[Note 111: See Historical Collections, by Collins.]

The progress of the drama is a subject which claims in this place some share of our attention, partly because it excited in a variety of ways that of Elizabeth herself. By the appearance of Ferrex and Porrex in 1561, and that of Gammer Gurton's Needle five years later, a new impulse had been given to English genius; and both tragedies and comedies approaching the regular models, besides historical and pastoral dramas, allegorical pieces resembling the old moralities, and translations from the ancients, were from this time produced in abundance, and received by all cla.s.ses with avidity and delight.

About twenty dramatic poets flourished between 1561 and 1590; and an inspection of the t.i.tles alone of their numerous productions would furnish evidence of an acquaintance with the stores of history, mythology, cla.s.sical fiction, and romance, strikingly ill.u.s.trative of the literary diligence and intellectual activity of the age.

Richard Edwards produced a tragi-comedy on the affecting ancient story of Damon and Pithias, besides his comedy of Palamon and Arcite, formerly noticed as having been performed for the entertainment of her majesty at Oxford. In connexion with this latter piece it may be remarked, that of the chivalrous idea of Theseus in this celebrated tale and in the Midsummer Night's Dream, as well as of all the other _gothicized_ representations of ancient heroes, of which Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida, his Rape of Lucrece, and some pa.s.sages of Spenser's Faery Queen, afford further examples, Guido Colonna's _Historia Trojana_, written in 1260, was the original: a work long and widely popular, which had been translated, paraphrased and imitated in French and English, and which the barbarism of its incongruities, however palpable, had not as yet consigned to oblivion or contempt.

George Gascoigne, besides his tragedy from Euripides, translated also a comedy from Ariosto, performed by the students of Gray's Inn under the t.i.tle of The Supposes; which was the first specimen in our language of a drama in prose. Italian literature was at this period cultivated amongst us with an a.s.siduity unequalled either before or since, and it possessed few authors of merit or celebrity whose works were not speedily familiarized to the English public through the medium of translations.

The study of this enchanting language found however a vehement opponent in Roger Ascham, who exclaims against the "enchantments of Circe, brought out of Italy to mar men's manners in England; much by examples of ill life, but more by precepts of fond books, of late translated out of Italian into English, and sold in every shop in London." He afterwards declares that "there be more of these ungracious books set out in print within these few months than have been seen in England many years before." To these strictures on the moral tendencies of the popular writers of Italy some force must be allowed; but it is obvious to remark, that similar objections might be urged with at least equal cogency against the favorite cla.s.sics of Ascham; and that the use of so valuable an instrument of intellectual advancement as the free introduction of the literature of a highly polished nation into one comparatively rude, is not to be denied to beings capable of moral discrimination, from the apprehension of such partial and incidental injury as may arise out of its abuse. Italy, in fact, was at once the plenteous store-house whence the English poets, dramatists and romance writers of the latter half of the sixteenth century drew their most precious materials; the school where they acquired taste and skill to adapt them to their various purposes; and the Parna.s.sian mount on which they caught the purest inspirations of the muse.

Elizabeth was a zealous patroness of these studies; she spoke the Italian language with fluency and elegance, and used it frequently in her mottos and devices: by her encouragement, as we shall see, Harrington was urged to complete his version of the Orlando Furioso, and she willingly accepted in the year 1600 the dedication of Fairfax's admirable translation of the great epic of Ta.s.so.

But to return to our dramatic writers:... Thomas Kyd was the author of a tragedy ent.i.tled Jeronimo, which for the absurd horrors of its plot, and the mingled puerility and bombast of its language, was a source of perpetual ridicule to rival poets, while from a certain wild pathos combined with its imposing grandiloquence it was long a favorite with the people. The same person also translated a play by Garnier on the story of Cornelia the wife of Pompey;--a solitary instance apparently of obligation to the French theatre on the part of these founders of our national drama.

By Thomas Hughes the misfortunes of Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, were made the subject of a tragedy performed before the queen.

Preston, to whom when a youth her majesty had granted a pension of a shilling a day in consideration of his excellent acting in the play of Palamon and Arcite, composed on the story of Cambyses king of Persia "A lamentable tragedy mixed full of pleasant mirth," which is now only remembered as having been an object of ridicule to Shakespeare.

Lilly, the author of Euphues, composed six court comedies and other pieces princ.i.p.ally on cla.s.sical subjects, but disfigured by all the barbarous affectations of style which had marked his earlier production.

Christopher Marlow, unquestionably a man of genius, however deficient in taste and judgement, astonished the world with his Tamburlain the Great, which became in a manner proverbial for its rant and extravagance: he also composed, but in a purer style and with a pathetic cast of sentiment, a drama on the subject of king Edward II., and ministered fuel to the ferocious prejudices of the age by his fiend-like portraiture of Barabas in The rich Jew of Malta. Marlow was also the author of a tragedy, in which the sublime and the grotesque were extraordinarily mingled, on the noted story of Dr. Faustus; a tale of preternatural horrors, which, after the lapse of two centuries, was again to receive a similar distinction from the pen of one of the most celebrated of German dramatists: not the only example which could be produced of a coincidence of taste between the early tragedians of the two countries.

Of the works of these and other contemporary poets, the fathers of the English theatre, some are extant in print, others have come down to us in ma.n.u.script, and of no inconsiderable portion the t.i.tles alone survive. A few have acquired an incidental value in the eyes of the curious, as having furnished the ground-work of some of the dramas of our great poet; but not one of the number can justly be said to make a part of the living literature of the country.

It was reserved for the transcendent genius of Shakespeare alone, in that infancy of our theatre when nothing proceeded from the crowd of rival dramatists but rude and abortive efforts, ridiculed by the learned and judicious of their own age and forgotten by posterity, to astonish and enchant the nation with those inimitable works which form the perpetual boast and immortal heritage of Englishmen.

By a strange kind of fatality, which excites at once our surprise and our unavailing regrets, the domestic and the literary history of this great luminary of his age are almost equally enveloped in doubt and obscurity. Even of the few particulars of his origin and early adventures which have reached us through various channels, the greater number are either imperfectly attested, or exposed to objections of different kinds which render them of little value; and respecting his theatrical life the most important circ.u.mstances still remain matter of conjecture, or at best of remote inference.

When Shakespeare first became a writer for the stage;--what was his earliest production;--whether all the pieces usually ascribed to him be really his, and whether there be any others of which he was in whole or in part the author;--what degree of a.s.sistance he either received from other dramatic writers or lent to them;--in what chronological order his acknowledged pieces ought to be arranged, and what dates should be a.s.signed to their first representation;--are all questions on which the ingenuity and indefatigable diligence of a crowd of editors, critics and biographers have long been exerted, without producing any considerable approximation to certainty or to general agreement.

On a subject so intricate, it will suffice for the purposes of the present work to state a few of the leading facts which appear to rest on the most satisfactory authorities. William Shakespeare, who was born in 1564, settled in London about 1586 or 1587, and seems to have almost immediately adopted the profession of an actor. Yet his earliest effort in composition was not of the dramatic kind; for in 1593 he dedicated to his great patron the earl of Southampton, as "the first heir of his invention," his Venus and Adonis, a narrative poem of considerable length in the six-line stanza then popular. In the subsequent year he also inscribed to the same n.o.ble friend his Rape of Lucrece, a still longer poem of similar form in the stanza of seven lines, and containing pa.s.sages of vivid description, of exquisite imagery, and of sentimental excellence, which, had he written nothing more, would have ent.i.tled him to rank on a level with the author of the Faery Queen, and far above all other contemporary poets. He likewise employed his pen occasionally in the composition of sonnets, princ.i.p.ally devoted to love and friendship, and written perhaps in emulation of those of Spenser, who, as one of these sonnets testifies, was at this period the object of his ardent admiration.

Before the publication however of any one of these poems he must already have attained considerable note as a dramatic writer, since Robert Green, in a satirical piece printed in 1592, speaking of theatrical concerns, stigmatizes this "player" as "an absolute Joannes Factotum,"

and one who was "in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country."

The tragedy of Pericles, which was published in 1609 with the name of Shakespeare in the t.i.tle-page, and of which Dryden says in one of his prologues to a first play, "Shakespeare's own muse his Pericles first bore," was probably acted in 1590, and appears to have been long popular. Romeo and Juliet was certainly an early production of his muse, and one which excited much interest, as may well be imagined, amongst the younger portion of theatrical spectators.

There is high satisfaction in observing, that the age showed itself worthy of the immortal genius whom it had produced and fostered. It is agreed on all hands that Shakespeare was beloved as a man, and admired and patronized as a poet. In the profession of an actor, indeed, his success does not appear to have been conspicuous; but the never-failing attraction of his pieces brought overflowing audiences to the Globe theatre in Southwark, of which he was enabled to become a joint proprietor. Lord Southampton is said to have once bestowed on him a munificent donation of a thousand pounds to enable him to complete a purchase; and it is probable that this n.o.bleman might also introduce him to the notice of his beloved friend the earl of Ess.e.x. Of any particular gratuities bestowed on him by her majesty we are not informed: but there is every reason to suppose that he must have received from her on various occasions both praises and remuneration; for we are told that she caused several of his pieces to be represented before her, and that the Merry Wives of Windsor in particular owed its origin to her desire of seeing Falstaff exhibited in love.

It remains to notice the princ.i.p.al legal enactments of Elizabeth respecting the conduct of the theatre, some of which are remarkable.

During the early part of her reign, Sunday being still regarded princ.i.p.ally in the light of a holiday, her majesty not only selected that day, more frequently than any other, for the representation of plays at court for her own amus.e.m.e.nt, but by her license granted to Burbage in 1574 authorized the performance of them at the public theatre, _on Sundays only_ out of the hours of prayer. Five years after, however, Gosson in his School of Abuse complains that the players, "because they are allowed to play every Sunday, make four or five Sundays at least every week." To limit this abuse, an order was issued by the privy-council in July 1591, purporting that no plays should be publicly exhibited on Thursdays, because on that day bear-baiting and similar pastimes had usually been practised; and in an injunction to the lord mayor four days after, the representation of plays on Sunday (or the Sabbath as it now began to be called among the stricter sort of people) was utterly condemned; and it was further complained that on "all other days of the week in divers places the players do use to recite their plays, to the great hurt and destruction of the game of bear-baiting, and like pastimes, which are maintained for her majesty's pleasure."

In the year 1589 her majesty thought proper to appoint commissioners to inspect all performances of writers for the stage, with full powers to reject and obliterate whatever they might esteem unmannerly, licentious, or irreverent:--a regulation which might seem to claim the applause of every friend to public decency, were not the state in which the dramas of this age have come down to posterity sufficient evidence, that to render these impressive appeals to the pa.s.sions of a.s.sembled mult.i.tudes politically and not morally inoffensive, was the genuine or princ.i.p.al motive of this act of power.

In ill.u.s.tration of this remark the following pa.s.sage may be quoted: "At supper" the queen "would divert herself with her friends and attendants; and if they made her no answer, she would put them upon mirth and pleasant discourse with great civility. She would then admit Tarleton, a famous comedian and pleasant talker, and other such men, to divert her with stories of the town, and the common jests and accidents. Tarleton, who was then the best comedian in England, had made a pleasant play; and when it was acting before the queen, he pointed at Raleigh, and said, 'See the knave commands the queen!' for which he was corrected by a frown from the queen: yet he had the confidence to add, that he was of too much and too intolerable a power; and going on with the same liberty, he reflected on the too great power of the earl of Leicester; which was so universally applauded by all present, that she thought fit to bear these reflections with a seeming unconcernedness. But yet she was so offended that she forbad Tarleton and all jesters from coming near her table[112]."

[Note 112: See Bohun's Character of Queen Elizabeth. Among the various sources whence the preceding dramatic notices have been derived, it is proper to point out Dr. Drake's Memoirs of Shakspeare and his Age, and Warton's History of English Poetry.]

CHAPTER XXIV.

FROM 1593 TO 1597.

A parliament.--Haughty language of the queen.--Committal of Wentworth and other members--of Morice.--His letter to lord Burleigh.--Act to retain subjects in their due obedience.--Debates on the subsidy.--Free speeches of Francis Bacon and sir E. Hobby.--Queen's speech.--Notice of Francis Bacon--of Anthony Bacon.--Connexion of the two Bacons with Ess.e.x.--Francis disappointed of preferment.--Conduct of Burleigh towards him.--Of Fulk Greville.--Reflections.--Conversion of Henry IV.--Behaviour of Elizabeth.--War in Bretagne.--Anecdote of the queen and sir C. Blount.--Affair of Dr. Lopez.--Squire's attempt on the life of the queen.--Notice of Ferdinando earl of Derby.--Letter of the queen to lord Willoughby.--Particulars of sir Walter Raleigh.--His expedition to Guiana.--Unfortunate enterprise of Drake and Hawkins.--Death of Hawkins.--Death and character of Drake.--Letters of Rowland Whyte.--Case of the earl of Hertford.--Anecdote of Ess.e.x.--Queen at the lord keeper's.--Anecdote of the queen and bishop Rudd.--Case of sir T.

Arundel.

Notwithstanding all the frugal arts of Elizabeth, the state of her finances compelled her in the spring of 1593 to summon a parliament. It was four entire years since this a.s.sembly had last met: but her majesty took care to let the commons know, that the causes of offence which had then occurred were still fresh in her memory, and that her resolution to preserve her own prerogative in its rigor, and the ecclesiastical commission in all its terrors, was still inflexible.

It even appeared, that an apprehension lest her present necessities might embolden the parliament to treat her despotic mandates with a deference less profound than formerly, irritated her temper, and prompted her to a.s.sume a more haughty and menacing style than her habitual study of popularity had hitherto permitted her to employ. In answer to the three customary requests made by the speaker, for liberty of speech, freedom from arrests, and access to her person, she replied by her lord keeper, That such liberty of speech as the commons were justly ent.i.tled to,--liberty, namely, of aye and no,--she was willing to grant; but by no means a liberty for every one to speak what he listed.

And if any idle heads should be found careless enough of their own safety to attempt innovations in the state, or reforms in the church, she laid her injunctions on the speaker to refuse the bills offered for such purposes till they should have been examined by those who were better qualified to judge of these matters. She promised that she would not impeach the liberty of their persons, provided they did not permit themselves to imagine that any neglect of duty would be allowed to pa.s.s unpunished under shelter of this privilege; and she engaged not to deny them access to her person on weighty affairs, and at convenient seasons, when she should have leisure from other important business of state.

But threats alone were not found sufficient to restrain all attempts on the part of the commons to exercise their known rights and fulfil their duty to the country. Peter Wentworth, a member whose courageous and independent spirit had already drawn upon him repeated manifestations of royal displeasure, presented to the lord keeper a pet.i.tion, praying that the upper house would join with the lower in a supplication to the queen for fixing the succession. Elizabeth, enraged at the bare mention of a subject so offensive to her, instantly committed to the Fleet prison Wentworth, sir Thomas Bromley who had seconded him, and two other members to whom he had imparted the business; and when the house was preparing to pet.i.tion her for their release, some privy-councillors dissuaded the step, as one which could only prove injurious to these gentlemen by giving additional offence to her majesty.

Soon after, James Morice, an eminent lawyer, who was attorney of the court of Wards and chancellor of the Duchy, made a motion for redress of the abuses in the bishops' courts, and especially of the monstrous ones committed under the High Commission. Several members supported the motion: but the queen, sending in wrath for the speaker, required him to deliver up to her the bill; reminded him of her strict injunctions at the opening of the sessions, and testified her extreme indignation and surprise at the boldness of the commons in intermeddling with subjects which she had expressly forbidden them to discuss. She informed him, that it lay in her power to summon parliaments and to dismiss them; and to sanction or to reject any determination of theirs; that she had at present called them together for the twofold purpose, of enacting further laws for the maintenance of religious conformity, and of providing for the national defence against Spain; and that these ought therefore to be the objects of their deliberations.

As for Morice, he was seized by a serjeant at arms in the house itself, stripped of his offices, rendered incapable of practising as a lawyer, and committed to prison, whence he soon after addressed to Burleigh the following high-minded appeal:

"Right honorable my very good lord;

"That I am no more hardly handled, I impute next unto G.o.d to your honorable good will and favor; for although I am a.s.sured that the cause I took in hand is good and honest, yet I believe that, besides your lordship and that honorable person your son, I have never an honorable friend. But no matter; for the best causes seldom find the most friends, especially having many, and those mighty, enemies.

"I see no cause in my conscience to repent me of that I have done, nor to be dismayed, although grieved, by this my restraint of liberty; for I stand for the maintenance of the honor of G.o.d and of my prince, and for the preservation of public justice and the liberties of my country against wrong and oppression; being well content, at her majesty's good pleasure and commandment, (whom I beseech G.o.d long to preserve in all princely felicity,) to suffer and abide much more. But I had thought that the judges ecclesiastical, being charged in the great council of the realm to be dishonorers of G.o.d and of her majesty, perverters of law and public justice, and wrong-doers unto the liberties and freedoms of all her majesty's subjects, by their extorted oaths, wrongful imprisonments, lawless subscription, and unjust absolutions, would rather have sought means to be cleared of this weighty accusation, than to shrowd themselves under the suppressing of the complaint and shadow of mine imprisonment.

"There is fault found with me that I, as a private person, preferred not my complaint to her majesty. Surely, my lord, your wisdom can conceive what a proper piece of work I had then made of that: The worst prison had been I think too good for me, since now (sustaining the person of a public counsellor of the realm speaking for her majesty's prerogatives, which by oath I am bound to a.s.sist and maintain) I cannot escape displeasure and restraint of liberty. Another fault, or error, is objected; in that I preferred these causes before the matters delivered from her majesty were determined. My good lord, to have stayed so long, I verily think, had been to come too late. Bills of a.s.size of bread, shipping of fish, pleadings, and such like, may be offered and received into the house, and no offence to her majesty's royal commandment (being but as the tything of mint); but the great causes of the law and public justice may not be touched without offence. Well, my good lord, be it so; yet I hope her majesty and you of her honorable privy-council will at length thoroughly consider of these things, lest, as heretofore we prayed, From the tyranny of the bishop of Rome, good Lord deliver us, we be compelled to say, From the tyranny of the clergy of England, good Lord deliver us.

"Pardon my plain speech, I humbly beseech your honor, for it proceedeth from an upright heart and sound conscience, although in a weak and sickly body: and by G.o.d's grace, while life doth last, which I hope now, after so many cracks and crazes, will not be long, I will not be ashamed in good and lawful sort to strive for the freedom of conscience, public justice, and the liberty of my country. And you, my good lord, to whose hand the stern of this commonwealth is chiefly committed, I humbly beseech, (as I doubt not but you do,) graciously respect both me and the causes I have preferred, and be a mean to pacify and appease her majesty's displeasure conceived against me her poor, yet faithful, servant and subject." &c.[113]

[Note 113: Nugae.]

In October following, the earl of Ess.e.x ventured to mention to her majesty this persecuted patriot amongst lawyers qualified for the post of attorney-general, when "her majesty acknowledged his gifts, but said his speaking against her in such manner as he had done, should be a bar against any preferment at her hands." He is said to have been kept for some years a prisoner in Tilbury castle; and whether he ever recovered his liberty may seem doubtful, since he died in February 1596, aged 48.

The house of commons, unacquainted as yet with its own strength, submitted without further question to regard as law the will of an imperious mistress, and pa.s.sed with little opposition "An act to retain her majesty's subjects in their due obedience," which vied in cruelty with the noted Six Articles of her tyrannical father.