CITATION AND EXAMINATION OF WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, EUSEBY TREEN, JOSEPH CARNABY, AND SILAS GOUGH, CLERK, BEFORE THE WORSHIPFUL SIR THOMAS LUCY, KNIGHT, TOUCHING DEER-STEALING, ON THE 19TH DAY OF SEPTEMBER, IN THE YEAR OF GRACE 1582. EDITOR'S PREFACE. "It was an ancestor of my husband who brought out the famous Shakspeare." These words were really spoken, and were repeated in conversation as ridiculous. from the lady's intention; and who knows to what extent they are true? Certainly such was very far The frolic of Shakspeare in deer-stealing was the cause of his Hegira; and his connection with players in London was the cause of his writing plays. Had he remained in his native town, his ambition had never been excited by the applause of the intellectual, the popular, and the powerful, which, after all, was hardly sufficient to excite it. He wrote from the same motive as he acted; to earn his daily bread. He felt his own powers, but he cared little for making them felt by others more than served his wants. The malignant may doubt, or pretend to doubt, the authenticity of the Examination here published. Let us, who are not malignant, be cautious of adding anything to the noisome mass of incredulity that surrounds us; let us avoid the crying sin of our age, in which the Memoirs of a Parish Clerk, edited as they were by a pious and learned dignitary of the Established Church, are questioned in regard to their genuineness. Examinations taken from the mouth are surely the most trustworthy: whoever doubts it, may be convinced by Ephraim Barnett. The reader will form to himself, from this Examination of Shakspeare, a more favourable opinion of Sir Thomas than is left upon his mind by the Dramatist in the character of Justice Shallow. The knight indeed is here exhibited in all his pride of birth and station, in all his pride of theologian and poet; he is led by the nose, while he believes that nobody can move him, and shows some other weaknesses, which the least attentive observer will discover; but he is not without a little kindness at the bottom of the heart, a heart too contracted to hold much, or to let what it holds ebulliate very freely. But, upon the whole, we neither can utterly hate nor utterly despise him. Ungainly as he is, Circum præcordia ludit. The author of the Imaginary Conversations seems, in his Boccacio and Petrarca, to have taken his idea of Sir Magnus from this manuscript. He however has adapted that character to the times; and in Sir Magnus the coward rises to the courageous, the unskilful in arms becomes the skilful, and war is to him a teacher of humanity. With much superstition, theology never molests him : scholarship and poetry are no affairs of his: he doubts of himself and others, and is as suspicious in his ignorance as Sir Thomas is confident. With these wide diversities, there are family features, such as are likely to display themselves in different times and circumstances, and some so generically prevalent as never to lie quite dormant in the breed. In both of them there is parsimony, there is arrogance, there is contempt of inferiors, there is abject awe of power, there is irresolution, there is imbecility. But Sir Magnus has no knowledge, and no respect for it. Sir Thomas would almost go thirty miles, even to Oxford, to see a fine specimen of it, although, like most of those who call themselves the godly, he entertains the most undoubting belief that he is competent to correct the errors of the wisest and most practised theologian. A part only of the many deficiencies which the reader will discover in this book is attributable to the Editor. These however it is his duty to account for, and he will do it as briefly as he can. The facsimiles (as printers' boys call them, meaning specimens) of the handwriting of nearly all the persons introduced, might perhaps have been procured, had sufficient time been allowed for another journey into Warwickshire. That of Shakspeare is known already in the signature to his will, but deformed by sickness: that of Sir Thomas Lucy is extant at the bottom of a commitment of a female vagrant, for having a sucking child in her arms on the public road: that of Silas Gough is affixed to the register of births and marriages, during several years, in the parishes of Hampton Lucy and Charlecote, and certifies one death; Euseby Treen's; surmised at least to be his by the letters E. T. cut on a bench seven inches thick, under an old pollard-oak outside the park paling of Charlecote, toward the north-east. For this discovery the Editor is indebted to a most respectable intelligent farmer in the adjoining parish of Wasperton, in which parish Treen's elder brother lies buried. The worthy farmer is unwilling to accept the large portion of fame justly due to him for the services he has thus rendered to literature, in elucidating the history of Shakspeare and his times. In possession of another agricultural gentleman there was recently a very curious piece of iron, believed by many celebrated antiquaries to have constituted a part of a knight's breast-plate. It was purchased for two hundred pounds by the trustees of the British Museum, among whom, the reader will be grieved to hear, it produced dissension and coldness; several of them being of opinion that it was merely a gorget, while others were inclined to the belief that it was the fore-part of a horse-shoe. The Committee of Taste and the Heads of the Archaological Society were consulted. These learned, dispassionate, and benevolent men had the satisfaction of conciliating the parties at variance; each having yielded somewhat; and every member signing, and affixing his seal to the signature, that, if indeed it be the fore-part of a horse-shoe, it was probably Ismael's; there being a curved indentation along it, resembling the first letter of his name; and there being no certainty or record that he died in France, or was left in that country by Sir Magnus. $ 2 The Editor is unable to render adequate thanks to the Rev. Stephen Turnover, for the gratification he received in his curious library by a sight of Joseph Carnaby's name at full length, in red ink, coming from a trumpet in the mouth of an angel. This invaluable document is upon an engraving in a frontispiece to the New Testament. But since unhappily he could procure no signature of Hannah Hathaway, nor of her mother, and only a questionable one of Mr. John Shakspeare, the poet's father, there being two, in two very different hands, both he and the publisher were of opinion that the graphical part of the volume would be justly censured as extremely incomplete, and that what we could give would only raise inextinguishable regret for that which we could not. On this reflection all have been omitted. The Editor is unwilling to affix any mark of disapprobation on the very clever engraver who undertook the sorrel mare; but as, in the memorable words of that ingenious gentleman from Ireland, whose polished and elaborate epigrams raised him justly to the rank of prime minister, "White was not so very white," in like manner it appeared to nearly all the artists he consulted, that the sorrel mare was not so sorrel in print. There is another and a graver reason why the Editor was induced to reject the contribution of his friend the engraver: and this is, a neglect of the late improvements in his art, he having, unadvisedly or thoughtlessly, drawn, in the old-fashioned manner, lines at the two sides, and at the top and bottom of his print, confining it to such limits as paintings are confined in by their frames. Our spirited engravers, it is well known, disdain this thraldom, and not only give unbounded space to their scenery, but also melt their figures in the air; so advantageously, that, for the most-part, they approach the condition of cherubs. This is the true aërial perspective, so little understood heretofore. Trees, castles, rivers, volcanoes, oceans, float together in absolute vacancy: the solid earth is represented, what we know it actually is, buoyant as a bubble: so that no wonder if every horse is endued with all the privileges of Pegasus, save and except our sorrel. Malicious carpers, insensible or invidious of England's glory, deny her in this beautiful practice the merit of invention, assigning it to the Chinese in their tea-cups and saucers: but, if not absolutely new and ours, it must be acknowledged that we have greatly improved and extended the invention. Such are the reasons why the little volume here laid before the public is defective in those decorations which the exalted state of literature demands. Something of compensation is supplied by a Memorandum of Ephraim Barnett, written upon the inner cover, and printed below. The Editor, it will be perceived, is but little practised in the ways of literature, much less is he gifted with that prophetic spirit which can anticipate the judgment of the public. It may be that he is too idle or too apathetic to think anxiously or much about the matter; and yet he has been amused, in his earlier days, at watching the first appearance of such few books as he believed to be the production of some powerful intellect. He has seen people slowly rise up to them, like carp in a pond when food is thrown into it; some of which carp snatch suddenly at a morsel, and swallow it; others touch it gently with their barbe, pass deliberately by, and leave it; others wriggle and rub against it more disdainfully; others, in sober truth, know not what to make of it, swim round and round it, eye it on the sunny side, eye it on the shady; approach it, question it, shoulder it, flap it with the tail, turn it over, look askance at it, take a pea-shell or a worm instead of it, and plunge again their heads into the comfortable mud. MEMORANDUM. Studying the benefit and advantage of such as by God's blessing may come after me, and willing to show them the highways of Providence from the narrow by-lane in the which it hath been his pleasure to station me, and being now advanced full-nigh unto the close and consummation of my earthly pilgrimage, methinks I can not do better, at this juncture, than preserve the looser and lesser records of those who have gone before me in the same, with higher heelpiece to their shoe and more polished scallop to their beaver. And here, beforehand, let us think gravely and religiously on what the pagans, in their blindness, did call Fortune, making a goddess of her, and saying, "One body she lifts up so high And suddenly, she makes him cry My kinsman, Jacob Eldridge, having been taught by me, among other useful things, to write a fair and laudable hand, was recommended and introduced by our worthy townsman, Master Thomas Greene, unto the Earl of Essex, to keep his accounts, and to write down sundry matters from his dictation, even letters occasionally. For although our nobility, very unlike the French, not only can read and write, but often do, yet some from generosity, and some from dignity, keep in their employment what those who are illiterate, and would not appear so, call an amanuensis, thereby meaning secretary or scribe. Now it happened that our gracious queen's highness was desirous of knowing all that could be known about the rebellion in Ireland; and hearing but little truth from her nobility in that country, even the fathers in God inclining more unto court favour than will be readily believed of spiritual lords, and moulding their ductile depositions on the pasteboard of their temporal mistress, until she was angry at seeing the lawn-sleeves so besmirched from wrist to elbow, she herself did say unto the Earl of Essex : "Essex! these fellows lie! I am inclined to unfrock and scourge them sorely for their leasings. Of that anon. Find out, if you can, somebody who hath his wit and his honesty about him at the same time. I know, that when one of these panniers is full, the other is apt to be empty, and that men walk crookedly for want of balance. No matter: * The Editor has been unable to discover who was the author of this very free translation of an Ode in Horace. He is certainly happy in his amplification of the stridore acuto. May it not be surmised that he was some favourite scholar of Ephraim Barnett? The earl did kiss the jewels upon the dread fingers, for only the last joint of each is visible: and surely no mortal was ever so fool-hardy as to take such a monstrous liberty as touching it, except in spirit! On the next day there did arrive many fugitives from Ireland; and among the rest was Master Edmund Spenser, known even in those parts for his rich vein of poetry, in which he is declared by our best judges to excell the noblest of the ancients, and to leave all the moderns at his feet. Whether he notified his arrival unto the earl, or whether fame brought the notice thereof unto his lordship, Jacob knoweth not. But early in the morning did the earl send for Jacob, and say unto him, "Eldridge! thou must write fairly and clearly out, and in somewhat large letters, and in lines somewhat wide apart, all that thou hearest of the conversation I shall hold with a gentleman from Ireland. Take this gilt and illumined vellum, and albeit the civet make thee sick fifty times, write upon it all that passes! Come not out of the closet until the gentleman hath gone homeward. The queen requireth much exactness; and this is equally a man of genius, a man of business, and a man of worth. I expect from him not only what is true, but what is the most important and necessary to understand rightly and completely; and nobody in existence is more capable of giving me both information and advice. Perhaps if he thought another were within hearing he would be offended or overcautious. His delicacy and mine are warranted safe and sound by the observance of those commands which I am delivering unto thee." It happened that no information was given in this conference relating to the movements or designs of the rebels. So that Master Jacob Eldridge was left possessor of the costly vellum, which, now Master Spenser is departed this life, I keep as a memorial of him, albeit oftener than once I have taken pounce-box and pen-knife in hand, in order to make it a fit and proper vehicle for my own very best writing. But I pretermitted it, finding that my hand is no longer the hand it was, or rather that the breed of geese is very much degenerated, and that their quills, like men's manners, are grown softer and flaccider. Where it will end God only knows; I shall not live to see it. Alas, poor Jacob Eldridge! he little thought that within twelve months his glorious master, and the scarcely less glorious poet, would be no more! In the third week of the following year was Master Edmund buried at the charges of the earl; and within these few days hath this lofty nobleman bowed his head under the axe of God's displeasure; such being our gracious queen's. My kinsman Jacob sent unto me by the Alcester drover, old Clem Fisher, this among other papers, fearing the wrath of that offended highness, which allowed not her own sweet disposition to question or thwart the will divine. Jacob did likewise tell me in his letter, that he was sure I should be happy to hear the success of William Shakspeare, our townsman. And in truth right glad was I to hear of it, being a principal in bringing it about, as those several sheets will show which have the broken tile laid upon them to keep them down compactly. Jacob's words are these: "Now I speak of poets, you will be in a maze at hearing that our townsman hath written a power of matter for the playhouse. Neither he nor the booksellers think it quite good enough to print: but I do assure you, on the faith of a Christian, it is not bad; and there is rare fun in the last thing of his about Venus, where a Jew, one Shiloh, is choused out of his money and his revenge. However, the best critics and the greatest lords find fault, and very justly, in the words, "Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?' "Surely this is very unchristianlike. Nay, for supposition sake, suppose it to be true, was it his business to tell the people so? Was it his duty to ring the crier's bell and cry to them, the sorry Jews are quite as much men as you are? The church, luckily, has let him alone for the present; and the queen winks upon it. The best defence he can make for himself is, that it comes from the mouth of a Jew, who says many other things as abominable. Master Greene may over-rate him; but Master Greene declares that if William goes on improving and taking his advice, it will be desperate hard work in another seven years to find so many as half-a-dozen chaps equal to him within the liberties. "Master Greene and myself took him with us to see the burial of Master Edmund Spenser in Westminster Abbey, on the 19th of January last. The halberdmen pushed us back as having no business there. Master Greene told them he belonged to the queen's company of players. William Shakspeare could have said the same, but did not. And I, fearing that Master Greene and he might be halberded back into the crowd, showed the badge of the Earl of Essex. Whereupon did the serjeant ground his halberd, and say unto me, "That badge commands admittance everywhere: your folk likewise may come in.' "Why! would not you, if you were in my place?' << He replied, "I am an half inclined to do worse; to bring him before the audience some spare hour.' "At the close of the burial-service all the poets of the age threw their pens into the grave, together with the pieces they had composed in praise or lamentation of the deceased. William Shakspeare was the only poet who abstained from throwing in either pen or poem; at which no one marvelled, he being of low estate, and the others not having yet taken him by the hand. Yet many authors recognised him, not indeed as author, but as player; and one, civiler than the rest, came up unto him triumphantly, his eyes sparkling with glee and satisfaction, and said consolatorily, "In due time, my honest friend, you may be admitted to do as much for one of us.' After such encouragement,' replied our townsman, I am bound in duty to give you the preference, should I indeed be worthy.' "This was the only smart thing he uttered all the remainder of the day; during the whole of it he appeared to be half lost, I know not whether in melancholy or in meditation, and soon left us." Here endeth all that my kinsman Jacob wrote about William Shakspeare, saving and excepting his excuse for having written so much. The rest of his letter was on a matter of wider and weightier import, namely, on the price |